Sight Unseen by Brad Latham Read Free Book Online Page B

good evening with you.”
    “It’s okay, really.”
    “I went to the Sorbonne in Paris for my Ph.D.,” she said. “I love Europe. I can’t stand what its leaders are getting the whole
     continent into. This Hitler!” She shivered as if a glass of ice water had been dumped down her back.
    Lockwood nodded sympathetically. For a few minutes they ate silently, and gradually peace fell between them. He asked her
     to dance again, and they turned gaily across the floor in a foxtrot for almost a dozen numbers. Again they drew amused and
     admiring looks from the small crowd.
    For the rest of the evening they engaged in small talk, getting reacquainted all over again. The night was damp and cold when
     they drove back in the silver Cord, and Lockwood turned the heater up full blast so they could leave the top down. Both found
     the drive back—the cold, damp night air rushing inches over their bare heads, the brilliance of the stars, the cheery warmth
     the powerful heater threw off—intoxicating, and by the time he pulled up in front of her house, she was leaning against his
     shoulder, her head resting comfortably there as she spun the Motorola’s dial from station to station.
    Neither moved.
    “You going to forgive me my passion for politics?” she asked.
    She glanced up toward him. He knew what she was really asking—Are we going out again, or was I too much of a pain in the neck
     tonight?
    He said, “I’m not a Babbitt. That stung. I have things I care about, and I wouldn’t call you names because you weren’t hot
     for them.”
    “I’m sorry. I should watch my temper.” She sighed. “It’s that my mother’s Irish.”
    Myra turned her head up and kissed him gently on the lips. He knew from the coolness of the kiss it was no-go tonight, and
     he felt something inside himself droop in disappointment.
    “How’d you like to come over for a home-cooked meal tomorrow night?” she asked. “Won’t be lobster Thermidor—I’m a working
     girl—but I’ll try to give you a good enough meal to make up for calling you names.”
    The wide grin that sprang to his face told the whole story. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll bring the wine.”
    “A red.”
    “A red,” he agreed, and he leaned down and gave her a kiss that was no warmer than the friendly kiss she’d given him. He thought
     he was getting her number. Tonight they were friends, but tomorrow night, in the privacy of her house, perhaps he would find
     that she could express her passion in more than just politics.
    She slid across the seat, murmured a goodnight, and disappeared into her house.

Chapter 6
    Lockwood spent an hour of the following morning on the phone with Mr. Gray,’ who assigned Steven McPherson, another claims
     investigator, to handle the office end of the investigation. He felt good about having Steve on his side. Steve knew all the
     ropes. Lockwood got him to run checks on Dzeloski, Stanley Greer, and Myra Rodman, as well as half a dozen other men who worked
     in Area C as engineers and mechanics on the project.
    “I particularly want to know if any of them have foreign connections. Miss Rodman was in Europe several years getting her
     doctorate. See if she belonged to any political outfits.”
    “Right, Bill.”
    “Mr. Gray says he has connections and favors owed to us from maybe a dozen insurance companies in Europe. Run all these names
     through them.”
    “You got it. Cable them?”
    “Have to. Speed’s important. These thieves were smooth as silk—not a trace of them out here.”
    “An inside scam, huh?”
    “Sure feels that way. Look, Steve, don’t send me anything. I’ll call you every day or so, or I’ll call Mr. Gary if you’re
     out. I can’t trust anybody here.”
    As soon as Lockwood arrived at the gate of Northstar, the marine asked him to come directly to Dzeloski’s office.
    He interrupted a meeting that looked to have been in progress for some time between Guy Manners, Josef Dzeloski, and a tall,