A Cold Day in Paradise by Steve Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

word with the bartender, but I ended up sitting at a table for a while, the only customer in the place, looking out that window at the St. Mary’s River and on the other side of that, Soo Canada. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a drink before noon, but this day seemed to need it.
    I made a little toast to myself. Here’s to your brilliant decision to become a private investigator.
    Lane Uttley had found me at the Glasgow Inn one night that past summer. He told me that Edwin was one of his clients, and that Edwin had told him all about me, the fact that I had been a cop in Detroit, even the business about getting shot.
    “A man who takes three bullets has to be one tough son of a bitch,” he said. “Edwin tells me you still have one of the bullets in your chest. Do you ever set off the metal detector at the airport?”
    “It happens,” I said.
    “What do they say when you tell them about the bullet?”
    “They usually just say, ‘Ouch.’”
    “Ha,” he said. “I imagine they do. Anyway, Mr. McKnight, I won’t waste your time. Reason I’m here is, I have a big problem and I’m wondering if you can help me out. You see, I have this private investigator working for me named Leon Prudell. Do you know him?”
    “I think I’ve seen him before.”
    “Yeah, well, at the risk of speaking unkindly, I have to say that the situation with Mr. Prudell is not working out. I imagine you’re familiar with what a private investigator really does?”
    “Mostly just information gathering, I would think. Interviews, surveillance.”
    “Exactly,” he said. “It’s very important to have someone who’s intelligent and reliable, as you can imagine. I’ve done a little bit of criminal defense work. And I havesome long-standing clients like Edwin, you know, for wills, real estate, and so on. But a lot of my work is negligence, accidents, malpractice, that sort of line. That’s where I really need a good information man.”
    “What does this have to do with me?” I asked. “I’m not a private investigator.”
    “Ah,” he said. “But you could be. Have you ever thought about it?”
    “Can’t say as I have.”
    “The private eye laws are pretty loose in this state. All you need are three years as a police officer and a five-thousand-dollar bond. You were an officer for eight years, right? Spotless record?”
    “Are you asking me,” I said, “or did you already check me out?”
    “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said. “I told you I value good information.”
    “Well, I’m going to have to pass on your offer. Thanks just the same.”
    “I sure wish you’d think about it. I’m prepared to make this well worth your time.”
    “Fair enough,” I said. “FU think about it.”
    He was back two nights later, this time with one of Prudell’s reports in his hand. “I want you to read this,” he said. “This is what I have to deal with every day.”
    Prudell had apparently been sent to a resort out on Drummond Island to document some haphazard life-guarding in support of a suit over a drowning. The report was a jumble of irrelevant notations and misspellings.
    “Listen to this, Alex,” he said. “Twelve-fifteen. Subjects back on duty after eating lunch under a medium-size tree. Subjects become aggravated upon observation of my picture taking with the camera.’ I assume that when he says subjects, he means lifeguards. Why can’t he just say lifeguards, Alex? I tell ya, this guy is killing me.”
    “What makes you think I could do a better job?” I said.
    “Alex, come on. Don’t make me beg.”
    “I don’t know, Mr. Uttley.”
    “Alex, you work when you want to work, and you name your price. I’ll even put up your state bond myself. You can’t beat it.”
    The truth was, I had been thinking about it. As a cop, I was always good at dealing with people, making them feel at ease, making them feel like they could talk to me on a human level. I was pretty sure I could make a decent private