lotion in the palm of her hands
and worked the cream into the ragged skin on her knuckles. She
said, “Who better to have access to a new construction site than
one of the Tylers?”
Dagger studied the list of suspects he had
made. “The question is: Which Tyler?”
CHAPTER 11
Padre left after they agreed to keep in touch
to compare notes. Padre would take a few days off and drive out to
Michigan City to have a look around the Dunes Resort.
“How do they look?” Dagger held up the
samples of the forged checks. “All I have to do is keep my eyes and
ears open tonight and I should come up with the appropriate
recipients of Leyton Monroe’s generosity.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “You’re going to give
his money away?”
He crooked his finger and tapped it under her
chin. “Nah, just helping him spend it.” The intercom from the front
gate rang out. “That’s probably Hardaway.” Dagger left his project
on the worktable and exited the secret room. He lifted the cover to
the fake thermostat on the wall and punched a button to close the
mirrored door.
Stu Hardaway looked like a short version of
Danny Thomas, with a honker of a nose and hairy knuckles. A chunk
of cigar jutted out from between his plump lips.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hardaway, but we don’t allow
smoking,” Sara said gently.
Stu Hardaway stared indignantly at Sara, as
if he were just refused seating at the Le Janiere Restaurant at the
Ritz Carlton Hotel.
“I won’t be here long enough for you to even
get a whiff of it, honey,” Stu barked.
Sara stepped out onto the stoop and held the
screen door open. “I smelled it the moment you got out of your car.
If you don’t mind.”
Stu jerked his head at Dagger, waiting for
him to get his hired help in line.
Dagger said, “Don’t worry. Your smelly turd
will be safe outside.”
“AWK, STINKY, STINKY.” Einstein added his two
cents while hanging upside down by the grated door.
Stu slapped his suitcase on Dagger’s desk.
Three large-stoned rings were squeezed over his sausage fingers.
One had a large “S” in diamonds surrounded by black onyx stones. A
thick gold chain link necklace around his compressed neck held a
large pendant in the shape of a dollar sign.
“Crissake,” Stu muttered. “You’ve got some
smelly bird in here with filthy bird shit all over and you’re
worried about my cigar? Now I’ve heard everything.”
Sara waited until Stu tossed the cigar out
the opened door, then she crossed the room to the aviary. “Einstein
doesn’t stink and he’s trained.”
Stu laughed showing gold caps in two of his
molars. “A bird that shits in a litter box.” He shook his head,
causing wisps of thin hair to break free from whatever spray had
held them in one place.
“Not a litter box but at least in a specific
area,” Dagger clarified.
Stu cast a gaze toward Einstein, saying,
“Hope you don’t go outside during hunting season, you oversized
crow.”
Einstein climbed on the perch by his door,
lifted his wings, and fanned out his tail. He made several hacking
motions toward Stu.
“Let’s finish this up, Stu, before I sic my
guard parrot on you.” Dagger popped the tape into the machine and
pressed the PLAY button.
Stu stood vigil over the tape player,
gleefully smiling as he heard his wife and her paramour trade
company secrets of acquisitions and bidding contracts, all the
conversations Dagger had taped during his trip to the Dunes
Resort.
“Your ass is fried now, you whore.”
Dagger pressed the STOP/EJECT button. “You do
realize that you might not be able to use this tape in a
courtroom.”
Stu handed Dagger an envelope of cash. “I
don’t think it will make it to a courtroom. Just as long as I get
that bloodsucking wife out of my life and be able to keep my
hard-earned money, I’ll be perfectly happy.”
Sara stood at the kitchen door watching Stu
Hardaway drive away in his Lexus. Dagger counted out the
hundred-dollar bills on his desk.
“Why do
and worked the cream into the ragged skin on her knuckles. She
said, “Who better to have access to a new construction site than
one of the Tylers?”
Dagger studied the list of suspects he had
made. “The question is: Which Tyler?”
CHAPTER 11
Padre left after they agreed to keep in touch
to compare notes. Padre would take a few days off and drive out to
Michigan City to have a look around the Dunes Resort.
“How do they look?” Dagger held up the
samples of the forged checks. “All I have to do is keep my eyes and
ears open tonight and I should come up with the appropriate
recipients of Leyton Monroe’s generosity.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “You’re going to give
his money away?”
He crooked his finger and tapped it under her
chin. “Nah, just helping him spend it.” The intercom from the front
gate rang out. “That’s probably Hardaway.” Dagger left his project
on the worktable and exited the secret room. He lifted the cover to
the fake thermostat on the wall and punched a button to close the
mirrored door.
Stu Hardaway looked like a short version of
Danny Thomas, with a honker of a nose and hairy knuckles. A chunk
of cigar jutted out from between his plump lips.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hardaway, but we don’t allow
smoking,” Sara said gently.
Stu Hardaway stared indignantly at Sara, as
if he were just refused seating at the Le Janiere Restaurant at the
Ritz Carlton Hotel.
“I won’t be here long enough for you to even
get a whiff of it, honey,” Stu barked.
Sara stepped out onto the stoop and held the
screen door open. “I smelled it the moment you got out of your car.
If you don’t mind.”
Stu jerked his head at Dagger, waiting for
him to get his hired help in line.
Dagger said, “Don’t worry. Your smelly turd
will be safe outside.”
“AWK, STINKY, STINKY.” Einstein added his two
cents while hanging upside down by the grated door.
Stu slapped his suitcase on Dagger’s desk.
Three large-stoned rings were squeezed over his sausage fingers.
One had a large “S” in diamonds surrounded by black onyx stones. A
thick gold chain link necklace around his compressed neck held a
large pendant in the shape of a dollar sign.
“Crissake,” Stu muttered. “You’ve got some
smelly bird in here with filthy bird shit all over and you’re
worried about my cigar? Now I’ve heard everything.”
Sara waited until Stu tossed the cigar out
the opened door, then she crossed the room to the aviary. “Einstein
doesn’t stink and he’s trained.”
Stu laughed showing gold caps in two of his
molars. “A bird that shits in a litter box.” He shook his head,
causing wisps of thin hair to break free from whatever spray had
held them in one place.
“Not a litter box but at least in a specific
area,” Dagger clarified.
Stu cast a gaze toward Einstein, saying,
“Hope you don’t go outside during hunting season, you oversized
crow.”
Einstein climbed on the perch by his door,
lifted his wings, and fanned out his tail. He made several hacking
motions toward Stu.
“Let’s finish this up, Stu, before I sic my
guard parrot on you.” Dagger popped the tape into the machine and
pressed the PLAY button.
Stu stood vigil over the tape player,
gleefully smiling as he heard his wife and her paramour trade
company secrets of acquisitions and bidding contracts, all the
conversations Dagger had taped during his trip to the Dunes
Resort.
“Your ass is fried now, you whore.”
Dagger pressed the STOP/EJECT button. “You do
realize that you might not be able to use this tape in a
courtroom.”
Stu handed Dagger an envelope of cash. “I
don’t think it will make it to a courtroom. Just as long as I get
that bloodsucking wife out of my life and be able to keep my
hard-earned money, I’ll be perfectly happy.”
Sara stood at the kitchen door watching Stu
Hardaway drive away in his Lexus. Dagger counted out the
hundred-dollar bills on his desk.
“Why do
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