French Kiss by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

trouble breathing. Maria is on my mind, in my heart. Because of Laura’s information, we may actually have a shot at solving Maria’s murder.
    K. Burke senses the emotional hole I’ve fallen into. She finishes my remarks.
    “And that’s why…we need you to help us just a little bit more.”

Chapter 20
    Laura says nothing for a few long moments.
    “Well?” I say.
    Laura is suddenly businesslike. Sharp. Composed.
    “I know what you’ll do if I don’t keep helping you,” she says.
    “You know what we’ll do?” I ask. “I don’t even know what we’ll do except ask you to help us.”
    “No,” Laura says. “You’ll play the Grandpa card.”
    “The what?” I ask.
    K. Burke is far quicker than I am in this matter.
    “Laura thinks we’ll tell her grandfather how she’s been making money,” says Burke.
    For the first time I see a toughness in Laura. I am beginning to think that Laura Delarico is not so naive and innocent as I first thought. She’ll make a good lawyer someday.
    “Believe whatever you want, Laura,” I say, “but I promise you with my heart that we will never do such a thing.”
    “I guess I’ll believe you because…well, because I want to believe you,” Laura says. “I want to help…at least, I think I want to help. Oh, this sucks. This whole thing sucks.”
    Time for a bottom line. Laura agrees to continue to help. “But just one more time.”
    Later, after Laura leaves, K. Burke and I walk the dirty gray hallway back to the detective room.
    “Nice job,” Burke says. “Your performance won her over.”
    “Did you think that was a performance, K. Burke?” I ask.
    “To be honest, I don’t know.”
    Back at our desks, we learn that Paulo Montes will not be in New York for three days. He is on a quick drug trip through San Juan, Havana, and Kingston.
    I tell Burke that I’m going to take one of those three days off.
    “Impossible!” she exclaims. “Your presence is critical. We have Vice files to examine. We have a reinspection of the murder scene as well as forensics at Montes’s suite. I need you to—”
    I cut her off immediately. “Hold it,” I say sharply. “Here’s what I need from you. I need you to stop thinking that you’re my boss. You’re my partner. And I don’t mean to throw this in your face, K. Burke, but we would not be progressing if I had not pursued my very un professional way of doing things.”
    K. Burke gives me her version of a sincere smile. Then she says, “Whatever you say, partner.”

Chapter 21
    A man knows he’s in love when he’s totally happy just watching his girlfriend do even the simplest things—peeling an apple, combing her hair, fluffing up a bed pillow, laughing.
    That is precisely how I’m feeling when I walk into the ridiculously tricked-out media room of Dalia’s apartment: the Apologue speakers, the Supernova One screen, the leather Eames chairs. A room that is insanely lavish and almost never used.
    As I walk in I see Dalia standing on a stepladder. Her back is to me. She is frantically sorting through the small closet high above the wet bar. She neither sees nor hears me enter. I stand and watch her for a moment. I smile. Dalia is wearing jeans and a turquoise T-shirt. As she stretches, one or two inches of her lower back are exposed.
    I walk toward her and kiss her gently on that enticing lower back.
    She gives a quick little yell.
    “Don’t be scared,” I say. “It’s only me.”
    She steps off the ladder and we embrace fully. I know a great kiss cannot wash away a bad day, but it surely can make the night seem a little bit brighter.
    “When did this closet become the junk closet?” she asks as she climbs back up the ladder and begins tossing things down to me.
    A plastic bag of poker chips. These are followed by three Scrabble tiles ( W, E, and the always important X  ). A plastic box containing ivory chess pieces, but no chessboard in sight. And a true relic from the Victorian era: a Game Boy.
    “This