Fugitive Nights by Joseph Wambaugh Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t much more posh. She had an inexpensive computer, a typewriter and a phone with two lines. On the wall behind a desk of oak veneer were several framed law enforcement certificates-of-training from her police days, as well as her B.S. degree in police science from Cal State Los Angeles. It had taken her eight years of part-time study to get the degree.
    Lynn slumped on one of the two chairs in front of the desk, and when Breda sat, she put on Yuppie eyeglasses with strawberry frames.
    â€œI been thinking,” he said. “Clive Devon oughtta get a splint for his member. I hear they got electronic implants. Only trouble is, if your neighbor hits his garage door-opener you might get a bulge in your shorts.”
    While Breda was rummaging in her desk drawers for her binoculars and the file on Clive Devon, a shapely young woman entered the outer office and tapped on the open door. She wore jeans and a white cotton turtleneck with a gold Rolex worn over the cuff. She had a raging auburn dye-job.
    â€œMay I help you?” Breda asked, and to her astonishment, Lynn Cutter actually stood up. Maybe he wasn’t quite as crude as a Hell’s Angels’ picnic.
    But then he reassured her by leering at the young woman’s tits, saying, “Dazzled to meet you. May I be of service?”
    â€œI’m looking for … Ms. Burrows. Is the first name Bretta?” She had a little voice that Lynn Cutter thought went well with big bazooms.
    â€œI’m Breda Burrows. It’s pronounced Bree-da. An Irish name.”
    â€œI got referred by a friend of a friend. I have … a problem I’d like to discuss.”
    Lynn took his cue and said, “I’ll wait in the outer office.”
    Breda knew he’d scope out the woman’s booty before closing the door, and he did. After which, Breda peeked at his booty and hated to admit that it wasn’t bad.
    When they were alone, the woman said, “Before I tell you any names I wanna know how much a certain job’ll cost me.”
    â€œLet’s hear your problem,” Breda said.
    The young woman said, “I got this boyfriend who’s married, see. Met him over at a hotel where I used to do nails. We been going together for three years and he promised he’d divorce his wife and marry me but he keeps making excuses. Now I know he’s a cheat and a liar.”
    â€œIf you know all that what do you want me to do?”
    â€œI want you to take a picture of him having sex with the other woman.”
    â€œAnother other woman?”
    â€œNo,” she said, and Lynn Cutter would’ve been disappointed to see that she chewed gum with her mouth open. “The only other woman. Me.”
    â€œYou want a photo of you two having sex?”
    â€œYes. A secret photo. Real explicit. Without him knowing.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œSo I can send it to his wife and show her what a bastard he is.”
    â€œYou wanna punish him, that it?”
    â€œNo. I wanna marry him. I wanna make her dump him. He broke up my engagement to another guy by making me fall in love with him. I’ll tell him my old boyfriend musta hired somebody to take the secret picture.”
    â€œI’m sorry, I don’t do that kind of work.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œToo complicated.”
    â€œOkay, if you did it what would you charge?”
    â€œI wouldn’t do it for any amount of money.”
    Suddenly, the young woman dropped her demure little voice. “Well, no shit! A keyhole-peeper with scruples!”
    Lynn could hear Breda raise her voice then, and he heard the shapely young woman raise hers right back.
    When the young woman came storming out, she said to Breda, “I got two words for you, a verb and a noun: Fuck you!” Then she was gone.
    Lynn looked at Breda, who stared at him through her Yuppie strawberry eyeglasses with that irritating grin.
    â€œIt’s a pronoun,” Breda said.
    â€œWhat