BLACK Is Back by Russell Blake Read Free Book Online

street toughs surrounding him.
    Black tapped his phone to life and called Stan Colt, his LAPD contact and longtime friend, who was always good for help on anything the police were handling. And if the roadie’s electrocution had been a murder, as B-Side had indicated, it may well have landed in Stan’s lap, given that he was one of the department’s top homicide inspectors.
    Stan answered his cell phone in his usual gruff fashion, sounding harried. “Colt.”
    “Hey, buddy. Long time no talk. How’s the death and dismemberment biz?” Black asked.
    “Plenty of job security. Never a dull moment. Where you been hiding?”
    “Nowhere special. Just earning a living. Seems like that’s a full-time job these days.”
    “I hear you. Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something here…”
    “No problem. I was just calling to catch up. Oh, and to ask about a case your department might be working. A roadie. Electrocution. Maybe six months ago.”
    “Why would we be handling an electrocution?”
    “The rapper said it was a homicide. Happened at the Hollywood Bowl.”
    “I didn’t catch that one, but I can look it up and ask around. What do you need to know?”
    “Just anything you have on it. The rapper thinks whoever did it tried to kill him again last night. At Staples Center. This time with poison,” Black said.
    “Seriously? Who is this guy?”
    “Goes by the name of – wait for it – B-Side, and it seemed like he was on the level. Plus, it was in the paper, so it must be true.”
    “That and Wikipedia.”
    “Of course.”
    “All right, I’ll put out feelers and see what comes back. You want to hook up for a cocktail tonight?” Stan asked.
    “Have to be a quickie. I have a dinner date.”
    “Ah, that’s right. I keep forgetting you’re a married man now. How’s that going?”
    “Hardly married, but since you asked, it’s going really well. Sylvia’s awesome. It’s a good fit.”
    “Glad to hear it. I’ll tell you what. I’ll call you if I get anything today, and we can grab a beer at the Salty Dog. If not, let’s plan on tomorrow night.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Luck was on Black’s side when he reached his block, and a parking space opened up only a few yards from his building’s entrance. He killed the engine and closed the top, and then took the stairs two at a time, eager to share his good tidings with Roxie: not only had he landed a new client, but at twenty-five percent more than his going rate. When he entered the office, she was sitting Indian style on her chair, listening to something on her headphones as she texted on her phone. Black waved at her from the door. She continued what she was doing for a few seconds before shedding the headphones and placing her cell on the table next to a large pile of flyers.
    “Hey there. Guess who just snagged a high-profile rap client at two-fifty an hour?” Black asked, beaming at her.
    “Is that a trick question?”
    “Not really. Can’t you just for once play along?”
    She nodded glumly and plastered a patently fake smile on her face. “Hey, boss, what super awesome studly PI with incredible fashion sense was able to trick a rapper out of way more than he’s worth?”
    “Do you have to make it sound ugly?”
    “Did I get any part of that wrong? Except for everything before the trick the rapper part, that is?”
    “Can we start over? I was just excited, is all.”
    “Are you sexually harassing me again?”
    “Depends on what you mean by sexually, harassing, and again.”
    “Is that some kind of veiled come-on?”
    “Roxie. This is big. Really big.”
    “Now I’m getting worried. First you start with the ‘I’m excited,’ and then you’re telling me how big ‘this’ is. I should sue.”
    “Two-fifty an hour.”
    “And now soliciting prostitution. What would your girlfriend say? Or do you pay her, too? Come to think of it, how do you define girlfriend?”
    “Roxie. B-Side is going to pay us two-fifty an hour to take his