Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis)

Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) by Tori Carrington Read Free Book Online

Book: Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) by Tori Carrington Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tori Carrington
mentioned the CIS, I thought maybe because she had a few relatives who were illegal. Then she got it together.
    ‘Nope. You expecting something on that Dino case?’
    ‘Yeah. If the agent calls, forward it to my cell.’
    Probably he would try my cell first, but I wanted to make sure I talked to him if he called. I was still working out what my next step should be since I obviously wasn’t getting anywhere here, no matter how nice Agent David Hunter appeared to be.
    I understood my mother had spoken to Dino a few times. He hadn’t called me. Not that I expected him to after that disaster of a date. But still . . .
    ‘You’re not leaving him here again, are you?’
    I eyed where Muffy had curled up on my old office chair at the desk next to Rosie’s and he eyed me back.
    ‘Yeah. Just let him outside to terrorize the neighbors every hour or so and piss on the hydrant and he should be fine.’
    She tsked loudly, causing us both to stare at her.
    ‘What? I’d like to know when I added “pet sitter” to my job description.’
    ‘Look at it this way: he’s protecting you.’
    ‘From what? Women dressed like Santa Claus’ wife?’
    Something like that.
    ‘You know he don’t like Waters.’
    Eugene Waters. One of my latest hires, the circumstances surrounding his employment a story that always inspired a smile if not an outright laugh.
    OK, so the vertically challenged African-American pimp wannabe’s promotion from someone on whom I’d tried to serve eviction papers to one of our process servers maybe rated a spot on the strange scale. But, in some twisted way, it made sense. Who better to get to serve than someone who knew all the ways to avoided being served? And, truth was, he was proving even more effective than Pamela Coe on some occasions, whose success rate had gone untouched by anyone before now.
    Pamela had a problem? She handed the case off to him and he delivered.
    ‘Yeah, well,’ I responded to Rosie. ‘That’s because Waters don’t like Muffy. I suspect Waters doesn’t like many dogs.’
    At the mention of the name, Muffy raised his head and growled.
    I could relate, but for different reasons.
    ‘Call if you need anything,’ I said.
    ‘Whatever.’
    For a split second, as I stood there with my hand on the door ready to open it, I considered telling her what my next-door neighbor, Mrs Nebitz, grandmother to Seth, Rosie’s heartbreaking ex, had shared with me. Something that went beyond leaky kitchen faucets and expensive plumbers and made my being late to pick up my mother worth it beyond the fact I’d wanted to be late picking up my mother.
    Then my gaze settled on the cheerful Happy Holidays sign on the glass.
    Shoot me, but no matter how foul her mood, I just didn’t have it in me to tell Rosie that Seth was getting married.
    Brrrr . . .
    However hard I tried to prepare myself, that first step out into the cold always shocked me. As I walked to my car, hunkered forward against the skin-chapping wind, I put my gloves on one by one, trading off on holding my cup of iced coffee.
    ‘Metro.’
    Of course, it would stand to reason this was the one time I should have been paying attention to my surroundings. Or, more specifically, others who might inhabit my surroundings.
    I looked up to find Pimply Pino Karras getting out of his NYPD police cruiser where he was parked behind Lucille.
    Now what?
    ‘Pino.’
    He appeared about to hike his pants up, but caught himself. I gave a little smile. It was nice to imagine I didn’t know what color his socks were. Of course, I did know; they were navy blue to match his pants since he was a stickler for rules and codes. Still, I held out hope that one day they might be purple . . . with sequins.
    There was a time not too long ago when Pino seemed hell bent on taking me into the precinct on something, anything, he didn’t care what. Littering would have done the trick. Murder? Jackpot! Think it went back to when we were in grade school at St Demetrios,

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