his head. “I don’t know the assassin. But I will. I’ll get to know him real well when I haul him in.”
Marley narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think for a second you’re going to claim any bounty.” His tone and expression grew mean. The man didn’t change his stance, though. He remained relaxed and blew on his coffee before taking a drink. “Why do you have two blank postcards?” he finally demanded.
Ben’s answer was so rehearsed in his head he couldn’t wait to spill it out. “A friend of mine helped me track him after that man we were chasing down a year ago got shot. I didn’t have my PI license yet and wasn’t going to do anything to allow the feds to back out of paying me my due once I turned him in. When he thought he’d spotted him in Santa Clarita, we tore that city apart trying to find him. My buddy headed north on the chance the Mulligan Stew assassin would go that way instead of west or south. I stayed in L.A. finishing up what I needed to do to get licensed so I could officially be a bounty hunter and go after him, too.”
Ben knew Marley had seen all his paperwork to get licensed as a private investigator. It made sense, he had decided, to throw that bit in to make it more believable. Greg King had taught Ben many things, and one of them was about visuals. Let a man see something and it made it a lot easier to convince him it was true.
“When the second postcard showed up, I dropped everything and drove up there. Zounds, California, isn’t a big town and we thought we had him. The bastard slipped through our fingers once again.”
“Then why are you following me up there if you’ve already searched and didn’t find him?”
“Is that where you’re headed?” Ben shrugged. “You owe whatever you know about him for trashing my place. If I have to find it out by following you, then that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve put a lot of hours in on this, and you aren’t going to find him before I do.”
Wolf studied Ben, weighing the odds on the punk feeding him lies or whether he was telling him the truth. It didn’t take much to conclude whatever the truth was, Ben would hold out on any true valuable information he might have.
“That’s a good story,” Wolf finally said. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll lie about what you know or don’t know about the Mulligan Stew assassin. You’ll accuse me of withholding information by tempting me with information you may or may not have.”
To his credit, Ben didn’t bat an eye at the insinuation. “Are you going to tell me what you know?”
“Not on your life.”
“I think it would be best if we worked together.” Ben grinned as if he knew his suggestion would twist unpleasantly in Wolf’s gut.
Wolf didn’t work with anyone. Stepping on someone’s toes took up time. He preferred doing his own analyzing and research. He also preferred claiming any bounty all to himself.
“Works for me.” Wolf opened his SUV door. “I guess I’ll see you in Zounds.”
Chapter Five
Angelina Matisse, although she preferred Angel, despite the fact that the name didn’t suit her, lugged the heavy box across her storeroom floor just as the bell tinkled in the other room. She straightened, feeling the strain in her back, and rubbed her hand over her tailbone. No time to dwell on aches and pains. She had a customer.
“Hi, Angel,” Maggie Mall said and strolled into Angel’s bookstore wearing a broad smile on her face. “The book was great.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Angel said, matching the grin as she walked behind her counter. She glanced at the clock. Four P.M. , which meant another three hours to go before closing time.
The bell over her door tinkled again, and Mrs. Pointer hurried in with her four kids, who immediately raced over to the children’s books, except for the oldest Pointer boy, who made his way to the magazines.
“Mrs. Pointer,” Angel said, nodding and holding on to her “never a care in the
Marley narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think for a second you’re going to claim any bounty.” His tone and expression grew mean. The man didn’t change his stance, though. He remained relaxed and blew on his coffee before taking a drink. “Why do you have two blank postcards?” he finally demanded.
Ben’s answer was so rehearsed in his head he couldn’t wait to spill it out. “A friend of mine helped me track him after that man we were chasing down a year ago got shot. I didn’t have my PI license yet and wasn’t going to do anything to allow the feds to back out of paying me my due once I turned him in. When he thought he’d spotted him in Santa Clarita, we tore that city apart trying to find him. My buddy headed north on the chance the Mulligan Stew assassin would go that way instead of west or south. I stayed in L.A. finishing up what I needed to do to get licensed so I could officially be a bounty hunter and go after him, too.”
Ben knew Marley had seen all his paperwork to get licensed as a private investigator. It made sense, he had decided, to throw that bit in to make it more believable. Greg King had taught Ben many things, and one of them was about visuals. Let a man see something and it made it a lot easier to convince him it was true.
“When the second postcard showed up, I dropped everything and drove up there. Zounds, California, isn’t a big town and we thought we had him. The bastard slipped through our fingers once again.”
“Then why are you following me up there if you’ve already searched and didn’t find him?”
“Is that where you’re headed?” Ben shrugged. “You owe whatever you know about him for trashing my place. If I have to find it out by following you, then that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve put a lot of hours in on this, and you aren’t going to find him before I do.”
Wolf studied Ben, weighing the odds on the punk feeding him lies or whether he was telling him the truth. It didn’t take much to conclude whatever the truth was, Ben would hold out on any true valuable information he might have.
“That’s a good story,” Wolf finally said. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll lie about what you know or don’t know about the Mulligan Stew assassin. You’ll accuse me of withholding information by tempting me with information you may or may not have.”
To his credit, Ben didn’t bat an eye at the insinuation. “Are you going to tell me what you know?”
“Not on your life.”
“I think it would be best if we worked together.” Ben grinned as if he knew his suggestion would twist unpleasantly in Wolf’s gut.
Wolf didn’t work with anyone. Stepping on someone’s toes took up time. He preferred doing his own analyzing and research. He also preferred claiming any bounty all to himself.
“Works for me.” Wolf opened his SUV door. “I guess I’ll see you in Zounds.”
Chapter Five
Angelina Matisse, although she preferred Angel, despite the fact that the name didn’t suit her, lugged the heavy box across her storeroom floor just as the bell tinkled in the other room. She straightened, feeling the strain in her back, and rubbed her hand over her tailbone. No time to dwell on aches and pains. She had a customer.
“Hi, Angel,” Maggie Mall said and strolled into Angel’s bookstore wearing a broad smile on her face. “The book was great.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Angel said, matching the grin as she walked behind her counter. She glanced at the clock. Four P.M. , which meant another three hours to go before closing time.
The bell over her door tinkled again, and Mrs. Pointer hurried in with her four kids, who immediately raced over to the children’s books, except for the oldest Pointer boy, who made his way to the magazines.
“Mrs. Pointer,” Angel said, nodding and holding on to her “never a care in the
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