Hazardous Duty by Christy Barritt Read Free Book Online Page B

across the rusty German wood floor. It made me proud to be an
American.
    Sometimes, when crime was low and
everyone else in the city rejoiced—as they should—I had to drag my dejected,
out-of-work self here to slave away for some extra money. The owner, Sharon,
was a sweetheart and more than willing to let me work odd shifts. I think more
than anything she liked to hear my on-the-job stories. But if she wanted to pay
me minimum wage to rehash my days, then so be it. As long as I could keep my
apartment.
    I paused in the doorway and allowed the
scents and sounds to ease into my lungs, to curl into my tense muscles. Coming
here always made me feel better. And then I spotted Riley sitting at an old
farm table in the corner and felt better yet. He sat, reading the paper and
sipping on a steaming bright yellow mug.
    I watched him a minute. He looked so
astute, almost aristocratic the way he sat casually at the table, slowly bring
his steaming mug to his lips while reading the newspaper. All he needed was to
raise his pinky finger and I’d have been sold.
    For a minute, I pictured him doing this
every morning. The thought warmed my heart in ways it shouldn’t, yet the image
seemed so normal, so peaceful. Riley did something to my heart—and my
imagination—that frightened and compelled me.
    With a quick wave to pink-haired Sharon behind the
counter, I walked across the wooden floor. Without invitation, I plopped into
the chair across from Riley. I was looking for a distraction, and I’d found a
very nice looking one.
    Riley looked up and stared at me a
moment. “Gabby.” His blue eyes made me catch my breath. No man should have eyes
that gorgeous, framed by lashes that long. I had to apply tubes of mascara to
even make mine visible. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the soot.”
    Ah, wonderful. Those first impressions
that you never had a second chance to make. “Believe it or not, I don’t always
look like a case study for the loony bin.”
    He grinned, showing perfect white teeth.
How does someone with an obvious affection for coffee keep their teeth that
white?
    “I didn’t think that at all.” He reached
for his mug and took a sip. “So, how are you today?”
    Such a simple question. Up until
twenty-four hours ago, the answer would have been easy. My biggest concern had
been coming up with a catchy jingle. Now the sleuth in me itched to get out.
    I’d always had a penchant for mysteries,
starting in seventh grade when I deduced that old lady Jones across the street
had sneaked a dead body from her house under the guise of rolled carpet. I
decided to keep an eye on her and quickly discovered she had a habit of
cleaning in the nude. I concluded spying was better left to the professionals.
    I’d moved on to tracking down who had
taken a picture of bottle-cap glasses Suzy picking her nose in the girls’
bathroom at school. Sure I’d been kicked out of school for a week when I
punched head cheerleader Amy Murphy in the eye upon discovering she was the
culprit, but it had been worth it. I’d solved my first crime.
    I’d wanted anything to distract me from
my dysfunctional home life—science experiments, who-done-it capers, and, most
recently, musicals. Who didn’t love a happy ending? I sure hadn’t had one yet,
but deep inside I hoped one day the tables would turn.
    Riley waited for an answer to his simple
question, so I stuffed my thoughts to the side and blurted out the truth.
    “I’m lousy. How about you?”
    “Lousy? What’s wrong?”
    “Don’t get me started.” I waved my hands
to ward off his questions, noting as they fluttered past that I desperately
needed a manicure. While out, I should buy some of those teeth whitening strips
and some mascara. Riley was putting me to shame. “Let’s talk about something
else. How’s your feathered friend?”
    Half his lip pulled up in a disgruntled,
but good-natured smile. “Demanding. Every time I cook something, he squawks
until he gets a piece