Read Checkered Crime: A Laurel London Mystery for Free Online

this time. She deserved what she got.”
    “Do I need to show you my little friend again?” he asked, obviously trying to get me to hurry along.
    His question hung in the distance between us, unmasked, unanswered. He got into the back seat of the Old Girl and shut the door.
    My legs didn’t want to move. No matter how much I tried. I was paralyzed in fear.
    The thought of bolting off into the woods crossed my mind, but I knew the river was just on the other side. I could jump in and swim toward town, but the man’s gun was a lot faster than I could dog paddle.
    He had rolled down the window and stuck his head out. He tapped his fancy big gold watch on his wrist with a gloved finger. “I don’t have all day.” With his other hand, he waved his gun in the air.
    Lickety split, I rushed back to the car and got in.
    “Airport Hotel.” He rolled the window back up and laid his metal friend on the seat next to him. He patted the gun. “Just to make sure you don’t do any funny business.”
    I gulped. “You know what?” I asked and turned around in my seat. “I don’t know who you are or what you want with me, but I am not comfortable with that thing pointing directly at me. So you need to put it away right now.”
    He looked up, our eyes met for the first time. His lips drew into a tight smile. “You are feisty. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” He took the gun off the seat and put it back into his waistband.
    I watched to make sure the gun was out of sight. He took a wad of cash out of his pocket and reached over the front seat. My insides danced with excitement. There were a lot of things I could do with that money.
    “This should cover the cost of the taxi fee and your memory loss of ever seeing me.” His voice threatened. He let the money fall on the seat next to me.
    There were at least six hundred-dollar bills lying there.
    “Airport Hotel.” I clicked my tongue before I threw the gear shift in drive and slowly pulled out of the ditch heading back toward the airport. “You staying long? What were you doing in the woods?”
    “You ask a lot of questions for a taxi cab driver.” He crossed his massive arms across his chest. “I’m mainly paying you for memory loss. Got it?”
    I glanced back in the rearview, he was staring out the window. There was a deep scar from his temple to his ear lobe and he had his arm propped up on the door with his hand dangling down, the other clasped it.
    “Taxi cab driver?” I slanted him the question before it dawned on me that he thought that because the Old Girl’s door had a faded taxi sign on it. The money. I needed the money. “Yes. I do like to pass the time with my passengers.”
    If he thought I was a taxi and it meant I was going to let him out without getting killed and have a few hundred dollars in my pocket, I could lie like a rug.
    “Airport Hotel. Next stop.” I squinted as I pulled back out on River Road, in fear a lightning bolt was going to come down from the heavens and strike me because at some point all of my recent lies were going to catch up to me.
    His hard jaw tensed. His sharp, squinty eyes stared back at me in the rearview. He meant business. “Tell me about this little town of yours.”
    Obviously it was okay for him to ask questions about me, but I couldn’t ask questions about him. I rubbed the back of my neck. Suddenly it felt tense. In the back of my hypochondriac mind, I couldn’t help but think about my family health history.
    I could have some sort of crazy disease and not even know it. Lately, that was one thing I had been battling with. Where I came from. Over and over Trixie told me I didn’t come with papers, but there had to be a history somewhere.
    What if I needed a kidney or something? My stomach hurt just thinking about it.
    “I said,” the guy yelped, “tell me about your town.
    “There isn’t much to tell.” I stalled trying to keep my cool. I tried to keep my teeth from chattering.
    Neck