Tina Whittle_Tai Randall Mystery 01 Read Online Free PDF

then, he was a cop, and cops were used to being startled awake and confronted with strangeness.
    I fished the business card out of my pocket and dialed the handwritten number. A man answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”
    “Detective Garrity?”
    “Yeah?”
    “This is Tai Randolph, Eric Randolph’s sister? Anyway, sorry to be calling you at home, but I’m in my brother’s office holding this guy at sword point—”
    “Sweet Jesus, what in the hell!”
    “He says he’s a friend of yours. Name of Trey. Works for some place called Phoenix. Any of this familiar to you?”
    An unnerving pause. “Listen to me, Tai, you put that thing down right now!”
    “I don’t think so. Not until—”
    “He’s on the level. Really. But first, I want you to put the sword down. And get the hell away from Trey, I mean, right now. Back up slowly.”
    “I’m not an imbecile—”
    “You’re not hearing me—put down that sword. Now!”
    There was a panicked edge in his voice. Trey watched, hands raised, eyes flat. Curious, perhaps, but not the least bit distraught.
    Just then, I heard the squeal of brakes outside, followed by a slamming door and footsteps sprinting up the front walk. Silence, then a polite knock. A business card slid under the door.
    “You’re supposed to pick that up and read it,” Trey said.
    “I am, dammit, just give me a second!”
    The doorbell rang, and I cursed. Keeping Trey in sight, I backed into the hallway. I could still hear Garrity on the end of the line, calling my name. I knelt to pick up the card, eyes on Trey.
    Kent Landon, the card said. Managing Partner, Phoenix Corporate Services.
    I tucked it in my back pocket under Trey’s watchful eye. Then I lowered the sword a fraction of an inch. “Is your name really Trey Seaver?”
    “It really is.”
    There was another knock at the door, more insistent this time. I backed up and opened it. A stocky, sandy-haired man waited on the mat. He had his hands shoulder high, palms out, an expression of weary frustration on his face. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place how.
    “Ms. Randolph?” he said.
    I nodded.
    “May I come in?”
    I nodded again. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Trey watched from the office, hands still in the air.
    The man shook his head in his direction. “Get back to the van.”
    Trey lowered his hands and stepped forward, his face unnaturally composed. He walked past me toward the door, then paused at the threshold and looked back over his shoulder.
    “Simpson?”
    “Fired,” Landon replied.
    “Thank you.”
    And then he was gone. I put his phone to my ear. “Hey, Detective? It looks like the show’s over. Trey’s booked it, and there’s a Mr. Landon here now, so—”
    “Where’s the sword?”
    I tossed it in the umbrella stand with a clatter. “Gone.”
    “Good. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Keep your hands empty, you hear me?”
    He hung up before I could reply. Kent Landon waited in the entrance, and I suddenly remembered where I’d seen him before—he was the sandy-haired guy talking to the detectives at the crime scene earlier that afternoon, Mr. Big Dog G-Man in the gray suit.
    “Detective Garrity’s on his way,” I said. “I think he’s pissed.”
    “I assumed as much.” Landon folded his arms, looked weary. “Is it my imagination, or do I smell coffee?”
    “Coffee?” I shot a quick glance at my sneakers—they were soaked brown. “Maybe.”
    “Mind if I have a cup?”
    I threw my hands in the air. “What the hell, I guess I’ll go make some.”

Chapter 5
    I rummaged in the back of the freezer until I found Eric’s stash of Blue Mountain blend. Then I piled paper towels on the Ritz-Carlton coffee, which was now a fragrant puddle on the carpet. I didn’t even try to clean my shoes.
    Landon settled himself at the kitchen table and pulled out a cell phone. His manner was open and casual, but despite the nonchalance, there was obviously an agenda somewhere. He