Parker And The Gypsy by Susan Carroll Read Free Book Online

made, but his usual icy calm had been badly shaken ever since he’d stumbled across the advertisement in the papers and realized that someone was looking for John Patrick. Why? After all these years? When he’d recovered from his initial shock, he initiated a few careful inquiries after the person who’d placed the ad, only to discover the situation had already grown worse.
    Only yesterday morning, Miss Holyfield had cheerfully informed the newspaper she was discontinuing her ad in favor of a more direct approach. She was off to Atlantic City to hire herself a famous investigator, Mr. Michael Parker.
    Storm’s mouth twitched into a grim smile that held little humor. “Of all the detectives in New Jersey, why did that foolish girl have to drag Parker into this?” he murmured.
    â€œI dunno, boss.” Mr. George’s deep-set eyes darkened with concern. “But what are you going to do? If Parker and the Holyfield girl succeed in finding the truth about John Patrick...” the chauffeur trailed off.
    â€œIf they succeed, Mr. George?” Storm’s face set in taut lines, his voice assuming its customary dangerous purr. “Well, we will simply have to make certain that they don’t.”

Three
    M ike guided his lipstick red Mustang convertible down the shaded streets of Aurora Falls. It was definitely a one-fast-food-joint type of little burg with Yuppie pretensions. Even the quickie mart sported a blasted pink-and-white awning.
    As he turned the corner onto a street that looked suspiciously like one he’d already been down, his radio speaker blared out the sound of the Eagles warning him to take it easy. Probably way too loud for Dullsville, so Mike leaned over and switched the cassette tape off.
    He brushed aside a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. The afternoon sun baked down through the open top of the convertible, making Mike curse his choice of apparel—dress blue jeans, his best T-shirt topped off with a navy sports jacket. Mike Parker, P.I. in his professional mode. Ready, perhaps, to make a better impression on Miss Sara Holyfield.
    No way! Mike scowled his denial, quick and sharp, that his spiffed-up appearance had anything to do with Sara.
    Oh, yeah? a voice inside him taunted. And so who’s the close shave, the freshly trimmed hair and the liberal dose of Mr. Manly cologne supposed to be for? The ghost?
    Mike was beginning to find his inner voice damned annoying, especially when it was right. Okay, maybe he had given a thought or two to Sara when he’d spent that extra five minutes in front of the mirror this morning. If he wanted the woman’s cooperation, he had a few fences to mend with her after the way he’d treated her yesterday. Making a pass at her, flinging out sarcastic insults, chucking her out of his office.
    When he saw her again, he’d be lucky if she didn’t tell him to go to hell. If he hoped to get any information out of her regarding this Patrick business, then he was going to have to turn on a little charm, a pretty scarce commodity with him.
    But first, he was going to have to find her. After Sara had left yesterday, he tossed all the information he’d taken down about her straight into the trash. And wouldn’t you know it? It would be the one day Rosa would creep into work and decide to make herself useful by tidying up his office. Sara’s address and phone number were now buried somewhere in a city Dumpster.
    But it shouldn’t be too difficult for Mike to locate her in a small town like this, should it? After all, he was supposed to be a detective. Squeaking through on the yellow end of a traffic light, Mike whipped the Mustang onto what he presumed to be Aurora Fall’s main street.
    Mostly because there was a sign that proclaimed helpfully Main Street. The wide boulevard planted with skinny striplings of trees and lined with a row of spanking new shops, tried desperately to convey an impression