Silent Kills by C.E. Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page A

be. He looked at the young man’s face, but his eyes were hidden behind curiously heavy sunglasses. Samir peered at him more closely—no, they weren’t sunglasses; they were goggles. Just as he was asking himself why a young man in a suit would be wearing something like that, the fellow pushed the goggles up on top of his head, gave a big smile, and pointed to an uncooked beef kabob.
    “Can I have that, please?”
    “Certainly, sir,” Samir answered, sliding it onto the hot grill.
    “Oh, no—I’ll take it just like that,” the boy said, licking his lips.
    Samir stared at him. He was very well-groomed. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his starched white shirt was immaculate. He was extremely thin, and looked to be about nineteen, though he could certainly be older. The only really odd thing about him was those goggles—they were big and green, made of thick rubber. Maybe the lad had just come from chemistry class. Samir’s son was in college, and chemistry was one of his subjects—but would he dress like this for class?
    “How much?” the boy asked.
    “Uh, three dollars, please,” Samir replied, handing him the uncooked meat in a brown paper bag.
    “Thanks,” he replied, and pulled three dollar bills from his pocket.
    “Thank you, sir,” Samir replied politely—he always treated each customer with courtesy.
    “Good day,” the boy said with a friendly smile, touching his forehead as if tipping his hat. Samir watched as he continued down the avenue, in his loose-limbed stride. There was something very odd about the young man, very odd indeed—and it was more than just the fact that he ordered his meat uncooked.
    But he didn’t have long to ponder the encounter. A group of Catholic schoolchildren came bounding up the street in their blue and green plaid uniforms, dollar bills clutched in their hands, all clamoring for a soda or a bottle of water or an ice cream—and Samir had his hands full for a while.
    But that night when he went home to Brooklyn he mentioned the odd fellow to his wife, Raina. “I just don’t know what it was,” he said over a plate of lamb stew and couscous in their cozy little kitchen. “But that boy was ... different.”
    His wife plucked a piece of mint from the salad bowl and chewed on it thoughtfully. “How do you mean, different?”
    “I don’t know,” Samir said, mopping up the rest of the stew in his bowl with a piece of pita bread. “Different. Odd. Maybe not right.”
    Raina gave a little laugh and plucked a piece of lamb from between her teeth. “My dear, you are a man with such imagination. You should be a writer—you should write books about all the strange people you meet.”
    Samir smiled. “It’s true—I do meet many odd people in my job. But this one sticks in my mind somehow. I can’t seem to forget him.”
    Raina wiped her mouth with the pressed linen napkin and brushed crumbs from her long flowered skirt. “Come over here, you of the great imagination, and I will give you something that will make you forget about him.”
    Samir chuckled and rose from the table. She was such a sly one, this wife of his, and he loved her for it. He bent over her and covered her neck with kisses, his fear fading away like late summer roses. She laughed and squirmed, and they both laughed and kissed with the dirty dishes still on the table. After a while they went up to the bedroom arm in arm, the aroma of lamb heavy in the air around them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Elena Krieger smiled triumphantly, perching her curvaceous body on the front of Chuck Morton’s desk, arms folded over her impressive bosom. Chuck wasn’t going to like seeing her in his “spot,” Lee thought. He liked to lean against the front of his desk during sessions in his office. Lee wondered if she was taking the pose deliberately.
    “So,” she said, “another interesting case. Difficult, but interesting.”
    “Yes,” he said, running a hand through his curly black hair. His hair was getting