Moonlight Rises (A Dick Moonlight Thriller) by Vincent Zandri Read Free Book Online Page A

ago. But I know in my gut that my father is alive.” Another Jack and Coke smile. “Must have something to do with the blood-is-thicker-than-water thing.”
    “Must be,” I said. “Had the dead Rose been an accountant?”
    “Information I got online didn’t say one way or another. He was just listed as a ‘local businessman.’” He made pretend quotation marks with the fingers on his right hand when he said, “local businessman.”
    “Any clue as to what he might look like? That is, assuming he’s alive and just a very private non-listed, off the Google radar, human being?”
    Czech reached into his pocket, pulled out a small photograph snapped ages ago. He handed it to me.
    I stared down at a black-and-white image of a hospital room. There was no one lying in the bed, but the sheets and blankets were tossed about, as though whoever had been lying in there had either left the room, or been dismissed somehow.
    A young woman and a man occupied the center of the shot. They were holding a newborn baby that was bundled up in white blankets. You couldn’t see his or her face, but I’m assuming the baby was Peter Czech.
    Standing to the left of the would-be father was a tall man, who was older than the couple. He had black hair, a receding hairline, and thick eyebrows. Thicker than thick, and raised up on both ends. Like they’d been pasted on instead of raised naturally. He was wearing a business suit and he was devoid of a smile. In fact, the young couple wasn’t smiling either. They were looking at the camera rather apprehensively.
    That’s when it dawned on me that the mother who bore this child—the wife or girlfriend of devil eyebrows—could be the one behind the camera. I couldn’t imagine a mother giving away her child in the first place, but to record it for all posterity was mind boggling.
    Then again, what if the mother and father had entered into some kind of contract or legal arrangement to have a baby for this Russian couple? I wanted to ask Czech about the possibility, but decided not to. I didn’t want to hurt him, and what difference did it make how the baby came about anyway? It wouldn’t affect his need to search for his maker. Not if he wanted to find his father badly enough, which he apparently did.
    I went to give him back his photograph.
    “You keep it,” he insisted. “You’re going to need it if you’re going to find him.”
    I stuffed the picture in the left chest pocket of my black leather jacket.
    “You live close by?”
    “Orchard Grove Road. North Albany. Been there for 6 years now.” Back to smiling cheerfully. “Hey, it’s my first house.”
    Once more he checked his Blackberry, and judging by his disappointed expression, once more he saw that nobody was looking for him. So once more he replaced it inside his jacket pocket.
    “Buck-fifty per day,” I said, getting to the business part of the conversation. “Plus expenses. I find your dad, dead or alive, I receive a ten percent bonus or a minimum of a thousand dollars. I take a thousand up front as a retainer.”
    Czech thought it over, nodded his head once or twice.
    Then, “Agreed. Under one condition.”
    “That is?”
    “You let me buy you a drink right now.”
    I smiled. I didn’t like overly friendly clients. Rather, I didn’t trust them. But what the hell. I was dry and it was the end of the day.
    “Agreed,” I said, taking his scrawny hand in mine. I released it as fast as I could without being impolite. It felt like a dead, overgrown chicken’s foot.
    He wheeled himself around and made his way to the bar. I went around to the cooler, uncapped another beer for Uncle Leo and one for me. Then I made a third drink for Czech with another new straw, and handed it down to him.
    “So what shall we drink to?” Czech announced, while retrieving his checkbook from one of his jacket pockets.
    “How’s about the Korean War!” Uncle Leo shouted. “We really gave it to those Commie bastards up on Pork Chop