Cinnamon Skin by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online Page B

up, or had made up. Maybe you think it's a little creepy, me ordering the enlargement, but nothing like that ever happened to me before, never in my life. I have no need for these two prints, so I'd just as soon put them in the mail to you when I go to the drugstore, okay?"
    "You're very kind." I waited while she got a pencil, then gave her the address.
    "Aboard the Busted Flush?" she said. "Maybe I should come over and take a picture of that! What is it?"
    "Kind of an old barge-type houseboat. Fifty-two foot, two diesels. It'll go six knots if the wind isn't against it."
    "It sounds quaint. The name is really odd. Does it mean… some kind of broken toilet?"
    "No. A poker hand. That's when-"
    "I know poker. I know about a flush and a straight flush. And I know how, like in stud, a hand can get busted."
    "I had a black card face down and four hearts showing."
    "You mean you won the whole houseboat on-"
    "No, I won a pretty fair pot on that bluff and kind of by accident let the hole card show after I'd pulled the pot in and everybody else had folded. From then on they kept staying in, to keep me honest. And I had a lot of good hands."
    Her voice dipped a half octave. "You sound really kind of adventurous, Mr. Travis McGee. Maybe you could sort of whip over here and pick up the prints in person? I'm getting a little stir crazy with Sim away at one of those weird conferences about setting up trusts in Liechtenstein."
    "It certainly sounds like an attractive idea, Mrs. Davis, and I would really take you up on it like a shot, but on Monday I'm being fitted for a new prosthesis."
    "Uh. Well, maybe some other time," she said briskly.
    "The other one never hurts at all," I said.
    "How nice for you. I'll put these in the mail right away. Nice to talk to you. Good-by Mr. McGee."

    Meyer flew to Houston on Sunday and phoned me at four o'clock on Monday afternoon, the twelfth. His voice sounded tired.
    "A progress report. Or a no-progress report. The traffic in this city is monstrous. They are maniacal. I've checked out of the hotel and moved into Norma's apartment. Want to write this down?" After he gave me the address and phone number, he said, "It's quite nice. It's a rental, in what they call a garden complex, nothing over two stories, jammed in close but angled very cleverly to give the illusion of privacy. All her stuff is here, so I thought it would be easier to work if her lawyer set it up for me to move in. She left a will, leaving everything to me. It's dated soon after Glenna died. She was probably going to change it again in favor of Evan. They were married on a Saturday, the seventeenth of April. He may have moved in here with her before then. Probably did. I've started going through her papers. Her lawyer is pleasant enough. It's a small firm. He handled her tax matters and apparently advised her on investments. Windham, his name is. Roger Windham. Did I say he seems pleasant? I'm probably repeating myself. I find I seem to get tired easily. There's a lot to do. Windham thinks she had some things in a storage warehouse somewhere. And a lockbox at the bank where she did her checking. He'll have to arrange with the tax people about opening the safety deposit box with them present."
    "Want me over there yet?"
    "Not yet. I'll get the chores done, and if anything comes to light that might be a hint as to anybody wanting to kill her, then, if it wouldn't be too much trouble…"
    "Come off it! That Mrs: Davis is mailing me one print each of the two pictures she took. She took them because of the name. They collect boat names."
    "It still seems like a bad dream. There's a picture of her parents standing with me somewhere in front of a lot of trees. It's in a silver frame on her dressing table. I haven't any memory of its ever being taken. I usually remember things like that."
    "Meyer. Get some sleep tonight."
    "Did I tell you about my mail?"
    "I forged your name on the change of address card. It's coming here. Today you got a fat