Body of Lies by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page B

accept my services, maybe I should call Quinn and tell him about your bout with food poisoning.”
    And Joe would be on the next flight here. She couldn’t face that right now. “Blackmail.”
    He nodded cheerfully. “Do it well, don’t I?”
    Oh, what the hell. It didn’t make any difference. “You can stay, if you promise not to tell Joe about this.”
    “Done.” He stood up and headed for the door. “Now, I’ll let you rest. Paul Tanzer is out in the waiting room. He was pretty insistent about seeing you, but I held him off. Do you want me to send him in?”
    She shook her head. “Tiresome. Marie called him . . .” What was the word? “
Trou du cul.
What does that mean?”
    He chuckled. “Asshole. I’m beginning to realize your Marie isn’t as thick-witted as I thought.”
    “She’s very smart. She’ll wonder where I am when she comes to the house in the morning. Will you tell her?”
    He nodded as he opened the door. “I’ll take care of it. Do you know where she lives?”
    “No.”
    “Then I’ll ask Tanzer.”
    “Galen.”
    He looked back at her.
    “It wasn’t you who found me and brought me to the hospital, was it?”
    He shook his head. “I came to the hospital with Paul Tanzer. Logan found out from Melton that Tanzer was his contact here, and I’d just had him routed out of bed when he got the call.”
    “Then how did I get to the hospital?”
    “You don’t remember?”
    “The last thing I remember was being out on the balcony and thinking I was going to die. Then there was a man . . . dark hair.”
    “That figures. The emergency room people said you were admitted by a small, dark man who handed them your purse with a card that had Paul Tanzer’s name and phone number. He told them to check for food poisoning. He left before they could get any other information. Recognize the description?”
    Eve shook her head. “I only remember him carrying me and telling me not to go to sleep.”
    “How did he get in? Was the house unlocked?”
    “I locked the front door myself, and Marie said she was going to lock the back door. She might have forgotten.”
    “Maybe.” Galen shrugged. “And maybe he was a Good Samaritan who heard you calling for help and broke in. I’ll check the doors. We may hear from him again. Good Samaritans who don’t expect compensation are rare these days.” He lifted his hand. “See you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you back to the apartment.”
    He was gone.
    Good Samaritan. If what Galen said was true, he had probably saved her life.
    But how had he gotten into the apartment? Well, maybe Marie had forgotten. She’d ask her tomorrow. She was too sleepy now . . .

Chapter 4
    The small house where Marie Letaux lived was on a twisting street on the south side of Baton Rouge. Like the rest of the houses on the street, it was old but washed to pristine cleanness, and a pot of pink geraniums bloomed on the doorstep.
    She didn’t answer Galen’s first knock. Nor the second or third.
    He waited for a few minutes and then tried the door.
    Locked.
    He examined the lock. Piece of cake. It took him only a few minutes to spring it.
    He entered a living room that contained comfortable furniture, but nothing ostentatious. He noticed there were more geraniums on the coffee table. Several family pictures in matching maple frames stared at him from the bookcase across the room. The overall impression was that this was a nice house occupied by nice people.
    But Galen’s experience was that things were rarely as they appeared to be. He walked over to the desk and went through it. Letters with a New Orleans return address. A checkbook and savings account passbook, a receipt for the rental of a safety-deposit box dated two days ago. More pictures, unframed, showing a young man in a green T-shirt.
    He closed the drawer and moved across the room toward the far door that must lead to the kitchen. He could see the white refrigerator with small colorful magnets against the