Revelations by Laurel Dewey Read Free Book Online Page A

gardenias flowered, it abruptly ceased. But Jane’s heightened sense of smell still kicked into gear as she noted the pungent chemical bouquet of wood shavings, varnish, paint and glue—all leftover from the recently installed security window. The old, battered carpeting beneath their feet had been cut at the corners, in preparation for removal. Behind the glass, Jane watched several workers moving tables, removing antiquated Selectric II typewriters, pulling wires out of the ceiling, drilling holes in the walls and negotiating their way around a pile of large unopened boxes that looked to hold computers and high-tech equipment. It was clear that a massive remodel and overhaul of the place was in progress. A fine coating of drywall dust and ceiling debris drifted
off the window when Weyler tapped his finger against it to get the receptionist’s attention. She turned toward him, obviously unaware of their presence due to the ambient noise. He held up his badge and announced that he and Jane were there to see Bo Lowry.
    “Hang on,” she mumbled, seemingly unacquainted with the buzzer that needed to be depressed in order to let them inside the office. She pressed it and Weyler pushed the door but it wouldn’t budge. The woman, clearly overwhelmed by the technical revamp, depressed the button again—this time with more impatience. Weyler pushed harder and the door released. The woman pried her chubby frame out of her new chair with the tags still on it and led them through the maze of dust-laden boxes, freshly constructed desks and computer tables, as she yelled across to a worker to “rewire the buzzer for the front door… again !”
    Turning one corner, she pointed toward a windowed office cloaked in half-drawn, yellowed Venetian blinds. “He’s in there,” she said, out of breath from the thirty-foot promenade.
    Weyler rapped his knuckles against the closed door and opened it. “Hello, old friend!” he said in a genuine cadence.
    The sweet smell of cigar smoke bit into Jane’s nostrils. A large man with a gut that hung well below his belt buckle swung his scuffed cowboy boots off the desk and put down his cigar. “Well, Christ Almighty, am I happy to see you!” Bo enthusiastically shook Weyler’s hand and patted him hard on his back. “Goddamnit, Beanie, you couldn’t have gotten here a minute too soon!”
    “Bo, I’d like you to meet, Sergeant Detective Jane Perry.”
    Bo’s gratitude quickly shifted to distaste. “No, no, no , 10-74!” he said waving his chubby hand in the air. “I asked for you , Morgan! Only you . Get her the hell outta here!”

CHAPTER 5
    “God, I forgot how much I love that small town charm!” Jane sardonically responded after Bo’s less than enthusiastic greeting.
    Bo’s face was turning five shades of red as he painfully spun toward Weyler and guided him around in a confidential pose. The juxtaposition of the two—with Weyler’s tall, lanky frame and Bo’s squatty, porcine physique—reminded Jane of Mutt and Jeff. “Beanie, I told you I wanted this under the radar. I ain’t fiddle fuckin’ around! What in the hell were you thinking?” Lowry’s voice sounded like he ate gravel and ground glass for breakfast and chased it with a cup of hot, spent ammo.
    Weyler put his arm around Bo’s shoulder and spoke in a soothing manner. “You’re out of here in less than two weeks, Bo. We need all the help we can get and Jane is one of my best.”
    “We don’t want TV cameras and publicity here!” Bo retorted in a gruff stage whisper. “And she …” Bo jabbed his thumb behind him toward Jane, “tends to attract that nonsense! And, I heard she’s a loose cannon! Jesus, Beanie, I need someone with a slower heartbeat than her.”
    Jane hated the media coverage she’d drawn in the past two years more than anyone. But she also hated being referred to as “her” and talked about as if she wasn’t standing in the same room. And why in the hell was Bo calling Weyler,