Sleight of Hand Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re the person.”
    This didn’t sound good to me. I wanted to keep the number of people who know anything about me and weird things to an absolute minimum. In my experience, weird is dangerous. I already spent enough time looking over my shoulder. But at the same time, I was intrigued and, of course, I had to think about my bank balance.
    “Any weird stuff that might have happened to me doesn’t make me an expert,” I said cautiously.
    “Do you know someone who is?” Her eyes were locked back on me and the ice queen was showing through again.
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “Is that ‘no’ you don’t know anyone better suited, or ‘no’ you won’t take the case?”
    I needed the business. I held up a placating hand. “How about this—I’ll split the case into three and do some checking on each. The three are staff, financial and your resort at Silver Hills. I’ll report to you if I discover anything significant, or at the end of the day, regardless. If I can’t find anything on any one of the cases, I’ll say so and you’ll be able to get someone else in for that part if you want. If I do find proof of a felony, we go to the police. In between, we just proceed as seems fit.”
    “Done,” she said quickly. There was a note of relief in her voice. I hadn’t done anything yet, but it was something I’d seen before, as if just talking to someone else had shifted part of the burden.
    “Can I see the contract, please?” she asked.
    I passed the standard duplicate forms across and sipped my cooling coffee as she bent her head over them. She noted some stuff on her smartphone as she went. She also made some changes, initialing them before moving on. I huffed quietly. I’d have to take a look at those and I hated reading legal forms.
    There was a bit of turnover in Papa Dee’s clientele. A couple walked out, kissed and went to separate cars. A guy whose face made me think of an angry rabbit came over and sat one table away from us. Now, there’s a convention that most people stick to in half-empty coffee shops. You try to space yourself out, you don’t take a table right next to someone else. He flicked up his laptop screen and dived in. A nerd. Low level of social skills. Probably only came in for the free internet. I sighed. Nothing that set my alarms off, but we’d have to talk quietly if there was more to say.
    The waiter wandered over with a coffee refill for us. He had a bit of a swagger and strong, square hands. I imagined those hands gently massaging my back and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. A quick peek confirmed he had thick, dark hair that I could almost feel my fingers running though. And a nice smile. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. Not going to happen. Not allowed. Rules.
    Back in the real world, Jen had signed the contracts and pushed them back at me. I hoped she hadn’t spotted me eyeing the waiter. Or my reaction afterwards.
    I checked her amendments. They were perfectly fair. She had emphasized the confidentiality aspects, corrected a typo that I’d kept meaning to correct, and added nothing that made me unhappy. I matched her initials, signed both copies and passed one back to her.
    She fiddled with her smartphone and looked up.
    “Good. Thank you. I’ve transferred five thousand into your bank account to cover preliminary costs. Bank details as in the agreement.” She made a wry face. “Or at least, the money is wherever it goes to when it’s left my account and isn’t yet in yours.”
    I kept my face impassive and managed not to punch the air. Five thousand would take care of the bills due next week and then some.
    “Thanks,” I said blandly. “My reports will detail costs.”
    We exchanged cell numbers and email addresses, and she handed a USB drive across to me. “This contains files of my internal accounts with my analysis, a list of employees who’ve left recently, with contact details, and the missing man I’m especially worried about, Troy Huber.