Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum Read Free Book Online Page B

much of an incentive. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten."
    "Good. So what do you want to drink?"
    "Not margaritas," I said firmly. "I know they're your favorite, but I've had them two nights in a row. Something different, something elegant."
    "What sort of elegant?"
    "I don't know. Something straight up and made with gin," I ad-libbed. "But not a martini."
    "I've got just the thing."
    Five minutes later Blue presented me with a melon-colored drink in a chilled cocktail glass. One sniff assured me that it did, indeed, contain gin, and bitters, too, or I missed my guess.
    "What is it?" I asked.
    "It's a Pegu."
    "So, what's a Pegu?"
    "Well, the original Pegu was a little bar in Rangoon, back in the days when it was the capital of Burma." Blue picked his glass up off the counter and clinked it against mine. "To you," he said and grinned. "Just try it, Stormy."
    I took a sip. "Wow," I said. "That's different. Almost medicinal. I like it, though."
    Blue bent his head over his glass and sniffed briefly, then took another sip. "My cocktail bible says the taste complexity is high."
    "Your cocktail bible?"
    "That's right. Great book. By somebody who calls himself 'the Alchemist.' "
    I laughed. "A wizard with cocktails. Well, I do like this one. Thanks. It was just what I needed. The prospect of being questioned yet again by that detective is distinctly stressful. I erased all the messages he left on our machine and I don't plan to be in touch with him until I have to, but I know it will happen eventually."
    Blue sighed. "Is that wise?" he asked neutrally.
    I shrugged. "I don't owe the guy to bend over backwards for him. He's been nothing but an ass. And answering machines screw up all the time."
    Blue said nothing. Familiar with my stubbornly recalcitrant nature, he knew better than to argue.
    "I'm not about to lie down like a doormat for any hostile and aggressive guy, cop or otherwise," I said firmly.
    "Spoken like a true feminist."
    I swirled my drink and sipped. One thing about this cocktail, it forced you to take your time with it.
    "I'm not sure I'd call myself a feminist, exactly," I said. "I'm more of an individualist. I don't so much identify myself as a woman, any more than I do as a Caucasian, or a tall person, or a horse lover. I'm a combination of characteristics, like all people.
    "And that's how I relate to others, I guess. I don't see a man as better or worse than a woman, though if I were hiring someone to buck hay, I'd probably hire a man. There're exceptions, of course, but generally speaking men are physically stronger than women. And, equally generally, women are less prone to the particular kind of macho asshole behavior that Detective Johnson displays."
    "I'd agree with that," Blue answered reflectively. "Women are also a lot less likely to commit violent crimes."
    "Good point," I agreed. I bit my lip. "Hot-tempered men are probably the most likely. Which makes me wonder."
    ''About what?"
    "Sam Lawrence. Who is, by all accounts and my own observation, an extremely hot-tempered horse trainer."
    "Does he beat on the horses?"
    "Sometimes. But he's not without talent. He's more of the old
    school type of horseman, likes a horse to be a little afraid of him. In some ways, it's understandable. What Sam mostly gets are spoiled backyard horses that have developed terrible, even dangerous habits. The owners want them retrained so they can get along with them again. It's a tough job."
    "I imagine."
    "Sam's actually pretty good at it, but when he loses his temper, watch out. He's as likely to take it out on a human as a horse; he's lost numerous clients as well as stable help because he bawled them out."
    "Has he ever done anything violent?" Blue asked.
    "I heard he slugged someone just last month. A client who came on to Tracy. After he'd had a couple of drinks," I added, glancing down at the beverage in my hand.
    Blue stood up. "What do you say to a simple fried rice for dinner? Something light."
    "Suits me," I