Sleeping with the Fishes Read Online Free PDF Page A

themselves: they'd prey on the angelfish and sunnies and other small fish stuck in the tank with them. Which would raise questions. Which would get Fred into a lot of trouble with Dr. Barb.
    She had to admit she admired their principled stance—especially the smaller fish, who had the most to lose. But like hundreds of little finned " Ghandis " moving in glimmering schools, they valued their dignity (or at least their musical taste) more highly than their own lives.
    Morons.
    Not to mention the larger problem: she freaking hated the Pet Shop Boys. Any band who relied more on a mixing board than actual talent wasn't in her mind, a real band. And who was in charge here, anyway?
    A damselfish wiggled by. Pounding more pounding outside pounding
.
    Fine! Starve
! She dumped the rest of the smelt into the water and lifted herself out of the tank, shaking out her tail and cursing under her breath.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    "You have a lot of food left this week," Dr. "Barb told her."
    "The fish don't seem to be hungry," Fred lied.
    "Yeah, and like, that's not Dr. Bimm's problem, right?" Madison chirped, carefully applying lip gloss. "She can't, like, make them eat, right?"
    "Umm. That's… hmm."
    Fred almost grinned at Dr. Barb's discomfiture. She'd since heard through the office grapevine that Madison's parents were descendants of
Mayflower
    embarkees (the original tourists and, later, the original illegal immigrants), owned half of Boston waterfront, and thought their little girl should be able to intern wherever she wished, as long as she wished. And given how dependent the NEA was on private donations… "Thank you, Madison, Dr. Bimm , how are the levels?"
    "They're perfect." Fred tried not to sound insulted.
    "Maybe they don't like the new guy," Thomas joked. He glanced at Madison "Or girl."
    Dr. Barb looked at him over the tops of her reading glasses. "Very funny, Dr. Pearson. I don't like where this is going. If an aquarium guest sees a shark gobble a few angelfish—"
    "Stampede?" Thomas guessed.
    "And rilly rilly gross, too!"
    "Visitors don't want to see blood," Fred said gloomily.
    "None of that 'nature, red in tooth and claw' stuff for them, eh?"
    "Quite right," Dr. Barb said, handing back Fred's clipboard. "Keep an eye on it, Dr. Bimm . Let me know if things don't change in the next few days."
    "I'm off tomorrow," she reminded her boss.
    "Right, right. Well, see how it goes Monday, then."
    "Yeah."
    "Dr. Pearson, you had something else for us?"
    "Well. Yeah."
    Fred waited. Dr. Barb waited. Madison blotted her lip gloss. Finally, with poorly concealed impatience, Fred said, "Well?"
    "It's just, the levels in the harbor are really off. I mean, by about a thousand percent. And since we're right on the harbor…"
    "Is that why you were sent here?"
    "It's why I came here. I've been sort of following the toxic levels. The source is here, in Boston."
    "Oh."
    Fred thought for a moment. She hardly ever went into the ocean, vastly preferring Main One or her parents' pool. But she hadn't sensed anything off in the water the last few times she'd jumped in.
    On the other hand, she had a ridiculous metabolism. She never got sick. Either mermaids could filter out toxins, or as a hybrid, she wasn't affected by poison in the water.
    That's not to say the algae weren't, which would lead to the fish, which would lead to the bipeds.
    Not that they cared, exactly.
    "I could really use some help figuring this out," Thomas was saying.
    "Well, we have several dozen—"
    "I was thinking of Dr. Bimm ."
    "Me?" Fred nearly gasped, badly startled.
    "Her?" Madison said, a little sharply. Obviously two coats of lip gloss and sparkly eye shadow had left Pearson unmoved. Certainly he hadn't done more than glance in her direction all morning. Fred wasn't sure why, but she thought that was just fine.
    But this?
    She was dealing with her parents adopting, a fish strike, trying to find the right woman for Jonas, and still, after twenty-six years, learning to