No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) by Julie Moffett Read Free Book Online

pulling out the FedEx mailer. I shook out the papers and handed them to him.
    He leaned over and flicked on the lamp next to the couch. He took the papers and held them under the light. “Are you sure this can’t wait until tomorrow?”
    “I’m sure,” I said, deciding it wasn’t a good idea to bring him up to speed on the psychos with guns. He already thought I was nuts as it was.
    Sighing, he leaned back on the couch and started to read. After reading the first page and setting it aside, he started the second. I couldn’t stand the anticipation so I interrupted him.
    “Well?” I asked. “What does it say?”
    He shrugged. “It looks like a contract of some kind.”
    “A contract? What kind of contract?”
    “It appears to be a contract providing for living arrangements. It outlines the conditions for a one-year lease on an apartment in Warsaw, a daily living stipend and car.” He set the second page aside and kept reading. “Pretty generous actually for this part of the world.”
    “That’s it?” I said in disbelief. “Who’s the recipient?”
    Paul flipped through the rest of the papers, scanning the documents. “It doesn’t say. It looks like this is just the generic form. There are no names mentioned, just ‘client’ and ‘recipient’.”
    I stood behind the couch and looked over his shoulder. “Are you sure? No names anywhere?”
    He lifted a pale eyebrow at me and then resumed reading. I paced back and forth behind the couch. Why in the world had Basia sent me this strange document? What in the hell was so threatening about a contract without any names?
    Paul finally set the papers aside and stood. “Sorry, but I don’t see anything else exciting. But it is strange that the everyday details of the ‘recipient’s’ life are very clearly spelled out. He or she has to agree to live in the apartment for a minimum of one year, be available for unannounced visits from so-called ‘client,’ go to specifically named doctors and medical institutions, withdraw money from one specific bank account and not to travel outside of Poland for the duration of the year.”
    “It sounds like an agreement between a man and his mistress,” I mused aloud. “But why have a contract in the first place? Is this a new kind of guy thing?”
    “You’re asking me?”
    “You’re a guy, aren’t you?”
    “Yeah, but since when do I have mistresses lined up?”
    “I don’t know. I thought guys stayed current on this kind of thing.”
    He rolled his eyes and then spread the documents on the coffee table. “Lexi, there is one other thing of possible interest. I think I recognize the name of the company named here.” He ran his fingertip beneath two words in Polish on page two.
    “There’s a company name?” I asked. “What is it?”
    “I’m not one hundred percent sure of the translation. Let me check it out tomorrow and I’ll get back to you. May I ask where you got these?”
    “Ah…from a friend,” I said, remembering what Mr. Middle Eastern Guy had said about letting anyone at the NSA know about the papers. “Look, Paul, I need you to be especially discreet when you do your check tomorrow.”
    He looked up at me in surprise. “Why?”
    “I can’t go into it right now. But it’s important. Discretion is imperative.”
    He sighed. “What have you gotten into this time, Lexi?”
    “Nothing I can’t handle,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. “I owe you big, Paul.”
    He stood and walked over to a nearby desk, pulling out a pad of paper. “Yes, you do. And I fully intend to collect. Dinner and dancing.”
    “What?” I squeaked, taking a step back. “Oh God, you don’t want to see me dance. I’m telling you, it’s not a pretty sight.”
    He smiled. “Remember, you owe me big. Big requires dancing for an equitable payoff. Besides, seeing how you woke me from a good dream, I think I’ve earned the right to see your fancy footwork. This Friday.”
    “This Friday?” I almost