Hard Rock (A Hardboiled Private Investigator Mystery Series): John Rockne Mysteries 2 by Dani Amore Read Free Book Online

beautiful thick steaks? 
    He knew Keith had homes all around the world.  The guitarist was probably the most famous rock star of all time.  Of course he was a globetrotter.
    The Spook seemed to recall an interview with Keith in his home at that time.  It was in Massachusetts.  But he also knew that Keith spent a great time in the Caribbean.   He made a decision right then and there. On his next research trip between jobs he would make a point of really trying to learn how Keith viewed America.  Mostly in terms of musical conquest. Did he see it as his greatest? Or just another notch on his Fender?
    Traffic was light coming out of the tunnel into Detroit, and The Spook easily navigated his way onto Woodward Avenue.  He didn’t have far to go.
    Detroit was one of his best job markets.  When he had left government work and gone freelance, his first jobs had been in the Motor City.  Over the years, he had completed nearly two dozen assignments in Detroit, all pulled off with flawless ease.  Detroit was a great city to be a person who killed other people for a living.  There were so many murders and the police force was so understaffed, investigation was almost always minimal.
    He did quite a bit of work in Chicago as well, and some in both New York and Washington, D.C.  Especially once word got out about his background and his extreme professionalism.  But Detroit and Chicago were his bread and butter. 
    He loved Detroit.  The capital of the Rust Belt, they said.  But it was a great driving city, mainly because there were very few pedestrians.  No tourists at all.  Try that in Boston or D.C. 
    It didn’t take him long to find the Woodward Athletic and Social Club.  He parked the Buick a few blocks away on a busy street.  He pulled off the second shirt tied around his midsection and used it to wipe the makeup off his face.  He spit out the cotton balls that he’d stuffed into his cheeks, and ran his fingers through his hair.
    In the rearview mirror, he looked a little crazy.  His hair was still partially gray, but without Irv Klapper’s big glasses he looked a lot younger.
    He rolled down the windows and left the key in the ignition.  Even though his fingerprints had been altered so many times they no longer matched anything on file, he wiped down the steering wheel and door handle, the only things he had touched.  By his estimation, the car would be stolen, stripped and abandoned in less than twelve hours.  The gun he had stashed in the trunk he decided to leave.  There would be no need for it now.  He left the car, saw a garbage can across the street, crossed over and dumped Irv Klapper’s shirt, glasses and passport into the trash. 
    It was cooler now; the first real feel of fall was in the air.  Some litter skidded down the street blown by the wind.  A homeless guy pushed a shopping cart over the curb.
    The door to the club was held open for him and he walked in.  He nodded to the man at the front desk and headed straight for the locker room.  The club was one he frequented occasionally when he was in Detroit, which happened to be at least three or four times a year.  Some of his clients preferred to meet at the club, and it was easier if he was a member.
    The locker room was empty when he entered and went straight to locker number 23.  It was a half-locker, paid in full for two years and operated with a combination as opposed to a key.  Which came in handy when you were forcibly removed from your belongings.
    He keyed the combination, opened the door and pulled out the black duffel bag.  Inside was a change of clothes, all dark colors and a second bag, a shaving kit.  Inside the shaving kit was a wallet with a Michigan drivers license and credit cards in the name of Dave Mather.  The Spook smiled.  He always chose names of Old West gunfighters for his backup identities. Dave Mather was known as “Mysterious Dave” because he had large gaps in his biography that no one could