Tried & True (Mayfield Cozy Mystery Book 5) by Jerusha Jones Read Free Book Online

Skip had known about his family connections and criminal proclivities. Bygones, I reminded myself. Bygones. Down to business.
    “What are you doing now?” I asked.
    “I’m a Sandwich Artist. At Subway.” Robbie’s voice faded. It was a long way to fall. He’d probably been earning close to six figures working as Turbo-Tidy’s controller. Heady stuff for such a young kid.
    “Are you interested in plying your trade again? I could probably pay you—cash. Maybe via courier.” I almost giggled. Like husband, like wife. Disconcerting and yet sickeningly hilarious—the things that have been coming out of my mouth lately, as if they were normal.
    “What do you mean?” Robbie said warily.
    “I’d like certain information to get to certain people. You know all of them.” And I briefly outlined my nebulous plan.
    “How far along is Turbo-Tidy’s bankruptcy?” Robbie asked.
    I had no idea. Not my department. I flipped through my notes from the conversation when Matt had told me that the FBI had seized the company’s remaining assets. “All I know is a Judge Trane is handling it, at the FBI’s request.”
    “The Old Griffon? Wow,” Robbie whispered. “Geez. That’s good news. Okay.”
    “Okay?” I repeated.
    “Skip was always good to me. I feel like I owe you—and him. No charge. It wasn’t my idea to snoop on the company for the FBI, all right? They just—I didn’t have an out, you know? They’re still—uh, they still keep tabs on me. So, you know, they’re gonna know.”
    I rolled my eyes even though Robbie couldn’t see me. I did know. I’d already resigned myself to the inevitability. “That’s okay. Think you could get a running start on your surveillance team, though?”
    Robbie snorted. “Heck, yes.”
    “That’s all we need. Thanks a million.”
    Let the tournament begin.
    In Felix Ochoa’s world, wealth and doubt equaled betrayal. There were no good intentions or altruistic motives. Everyone knew their gains were ill-gotten and that those same gains could be lost just as fast and just as irreparably as they’d removed them from their previous owners. Everything about their lives was fleeting. Which is why they surrounded themselves with the illusion of security—mansion fortresses; bodyguards; big, solid, impressive possessions like planes and yachts and golf courses—and inflicted merciless punishment on their underlings as a way of maintaining control. But in their heart of hearts, they knew their hold on everything was a hair breadth away from disaster.
    I was determined to be as disastrous and as tempting as I possibly could.
     
    oOo
     
    The next morning, I drove to the sporting goods store in Woodland and told the clerk I was going to target practice with a Glock 9mm handgun. Then he spewed out a bunch of words like “grain” and “hollow point” and “metal jacket” and suggested my target shooting bullets be as similar as possible to my self-defense bullets.
    While that last bit sounded like a good idea, I’m afraid I still had a terribly blank look on my face. “I just want them to make big enough holes in the target that I know when I’ve hit it—or not.”
    “That won’t be a problem.” He grinned at me and smacked a heavy little box on the counter. “These’ll do.”
    “Will that be enough?” I asked.
    His eyebrows pitched up and his grin spread even wider. “We got a deal—buy four boxes, get the fifth box half off.”
    More seemed better at this point—I was counting on missing the target a lot—so I nodded.
    He licked his lips, but the grin remained as he pulled four more boxes off the shelf behind him and lined them up on the counter. “You single? I’ve seen you around town a few times. You drive that brown Dodge pickup, right? I could totally help you with your aim and maybe grab a beer at the Heave-Ho?” He hitched his thumb toward the tavern next door which shared a gravel parking lot with the sporting goods store. “I get off work at six