Ghost Hero by S. J. Rozan Read Free Book Online Page A

us to stay we strode through the office, trailed by Caitlin’s nervous gaze. As we were recrossing the gallery to Nick Greenbank’s desk, I heard Haig bellow, “Caitlin! Get in here!” At least the gentry weren’t allowed to behead serfs anymore.
    Leetle Neek had his eyes glued on us from the moment we emerged from the inner sanctum, but when we got back to his desk I can’t say he greeted us like long-lost friends.
    “I was right, wasn’t I?” he asked, smug even before the answer. “He thinks they’re fake?”
    “He says he never heard uff dem. But he says he’s goink to look.”
    “But you didn’t say anything about me?”
    I just shrugged, but Bill said benevolently, “No, boychik. Vat you tell me, eet’s our leetle secret. Dah?”
    “Dah. I mean yes!”
    “Good boychik. Now, vile your boss—charmink man—ees looking, ve’re going to see your leetle Shayna. Meanvile, if you suddenly theenk of something maybe I should know, you giff Brown Eyes a call, how about dat?” Bill reached over the counter, lifted a pen from a steel tube, peeled a Baxter/Haig business card from a steel box, and scribbled my number again. He tucked the card in Nick’s shirt pocket and patted him on the cheek. “Okay. Now chust tell me diss. Your little Shayna, ven ve get dere, iss she going to say she hass no idea vat dat cute guy from Baxter/Haig iss talking about? Or maybe, Shayna don’t even remember no cute guy from Baxter/Haig?”
    “She’ll remember me,” Nick said savagely, already angry with Shayna for stabbing him in the back.
    “I’m gled for you. But you’re not gonna remind her? You’re not thinking right now, maybe you’ll give dat cute Shayna a call? Because I’ll be very disappointed iff I get dere and Shayna suddenly vent home sick.”
    Nick shook his head. “No, no.”
    “And diss won’t be, vat do dey say in English, a vild bird chase? Vee get up dere, Shayna don’t got no photographs on her phone, and vee come back here and little boychik iss da vun vent home sick? Because…” Bill swept the room with his arm one more time.
    “No,” said Nick. “It’s what I said. You ask her where that open studio was that Doug Haig got excited about. That’s who has the Chaus. But I’m telling you—”
    “Fakes, yess, yess, thenk you, boychik. Now, you get back to verk, so Meester Haig, he don’t fire you, dah? Hah, fire you! Det’s pretty funny.” Bill socked me in the arm again, turned, and left. I hurried after him. Too bad Bill had told Nick to stay put. He looked bad enough to go home sick.

5
    Bill and I stayed silent until we’d rounded the corner onto Ninth Avenue and put another block between us and Baxter/Haig. Then I exploded. “That sleazy, twisted, pervy horn-dog! Ugh ugh ugh. Creeparama! Can I burn his gallery down myself?”
    “After we’re through.”
    “That poor woman! Unbelievable! All the way from China and she had to put up with that! And your rings are hideous. Where did you get them?”
    “Chinatown, where else?”
    “And the accent? Did you get that in Chinatown, too?”
    “Come on, girlchik. Dat’s vun of my besst.”
    “Vun uff your most ridiculous, enyvayz. I can’t believe either of them bought it.”
    “Haig was hearing the clink of coin. That drowns out a lot. And little Nicky saved his boss’s business. He’s a hero.”
    “Thanks a bunch, by the way, for giving both those jerks my phone number.”
    “That was payback for ‘Oblomov.’ Russian Lit. 101?”
    “First time it’s ever come in handy.”
    We’d almost made it to the subway when Bill’s phone rang. “Well, it can’t be either of those, um, jerks.” He checked the screen and told me, “Jack.” He answered, listened, stopped walking, and said, “Jesus Christ! Are you okay?”
    I stopped, too. “What happened?”
    He waved me silent, listened another few moments, then said, “Okay, we’re on the way,” and clicked off.
    “On the way where?” I demanded. “What