An Arm and a Leg by Olive Balla Read Free Book Online Page A

followed. It is within the realm of possibility that she might yet find the items O’Neil took.”
    “What should I do if she does turn something up?”
    “In that event you are to notify us immediately. Oh, and make sure Mel doesn’t pull any more stupid stunts. If something suspicious happens to the sister, the law will investigate everyone associated with both of them. We don’t want to have to deal with that kind of heat.”
    Beads of perspiration popped out on Larry’s forehead and upper lip and an all too familiar feeling started up a hum along his nerves—the same feeling that made him leave Amarillo without even packing up his belongings. He hadn’t understood the reason for it at the time, but later he’d learned he escaped only minutes ahead of his ex-boss’s two shooters. And now here was that feeling again.
    Bellamy smacked his hand on his desk, the sound loud in Larry’s ear. “Well? Moan. Grunt. Make some sound to indicate you understand.”
    “Yessir, I got it.”
    “And another thing, find out if O’Neil rented a freezer locker, or any storage unit with electricity, for that matter. If he did, we only have about one month before the owner is legally allowed to break into it and auction off the contents. At that point, the proverbial poo will hit the fan. And you know what that means.”
    “Yessir.” It meant every man for himself.

Chapter Six
    Tim’s body was released for burial the next week. The funeral was held in the church where Frankie served as music director and organist. Her boss, Pastor Dan, offered a lovely eulogy, and her choir sang an exquisite anthem to the filled-to-capacity gathering. Although heartbroken, it comforted her to see how many people her brother’s life had touched.
    Once home from the cemetery, Frankie pulled a recorded pipe organ concert out of her collection and slid it into the player. She walked to the new leather sofa in her living room, kicked off her black patent leather heels and sat, her legs drawn up underneath her. With her head rested on the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes and allowed the majestic sound of Widor’s “Toccata” to pour over her as the dammed up grief for her brother broke loose.
    She had just picked up a pile of soggy tissues and headed toward a waste basket when the sound of an all-too-familiar, disembodied voice made her hand freeze in midair.
    Please help me …
    Frankie cocked her head to one side, listening.
    Please …
    The tissues slid from Frankie’s suddenly-numb fingers. She braced herself against the wall to keep her knees from buckling. “Stop it. Go away,” she said to the empty room.
    Please help me. Don’t let her …
    “I said go away.” Frankie’s voice rose to near-screech level, so distorted she barely recognized it as her own.
    Like a goldfish dropped onto the floor, she opened her mouth wide, sucking great gulps of air into her lungs. She stumbled to a table in the entryway next to the front door, grabbed up her purse and pulled her phone from the leather holster attached to the side of the bag. Barely able to control her trembling fingers, she punched a pre-set speed-dial. The phone was picked up at the other end after two rings.
    “The offices of Doctors Angela and Peter Demaris, Raynell Lavender speaking. How may I help you?”
    “This is Frankie O’Neil. I have an appointment with Doctor Angela Demaris next week, but I was wondering if you could work me in sooner…maybe sometime tomorrow?”
    “Is this an emergency?” The young-sounding female receptionist’s voice, undoubtedly modulated to soothe the savage beast, flowed with her version of gentle understanding—something for which she’d probably earned high marks in Receptionist Training 101. But for some reason Frankie couldn’t fathom, rather than calming her, the sound scraped along her already raw nerve endings.
    “I guess that depends on your definition of the word. But I would like to see her as soon as possible.”
    The