Read A Bullet Apiece for Free Online

my fine, even row of teeth. Unimpressed, she reached for the desktop telephone. At that, I chuckled and backed away. I’d have to go soft before I made my press. I glanced over to an Eames chair next to a potted palm and pointed to it.
    Â  “May I have a seat?”
    â€œMr. Darvis, I really must be going. Security will want to lock up the building shortly.
    â€œI promise, I’ll be out of your pretty hair before you can say ‘import tariff evasion’. Or even ‘child labor exploitation’.”
    That did it. A wry smile appeared on her face. She looked pretty good with it decorating her face. Not as hot as Jerri Hanady, but it was a definite improvement.
    â€œWon’t you have a seat, Mr. Darvis?” Her perfunctory tone returned. The same one I had heard on the phone earlier, when I posed as a grocery owner.
    â€œSure. Thought you’d never ask.” I sat, laying the pen and notebook down on a side table. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry. This is a non-smoking building.”
    â€œWhadda you mean by that?”
    â€œNo one is allowed to smoke on the premises.”
    I stared at her.
    Â  “Mr. Hanady has allergies. Cigarette smoke is one of them.”
    â€œOkay.” I held the lit cigarette vertically, looked around for an ashtray, and not seeing one, gave her an inquisitive look. She said, “Here,” and walked over and took the smoke from me as though it were a dog turd on a stick. She disappeared around a corner. In her absence, I took in more of my surroudings, with my eyes landing back on the oil painting. Then, admiring the lines of the crafted, wood paneling, I noticed something else. A door. A door, so nearly discreet it would escape the casual inspection of any regular person.   A few moments later, I heard a toilet flush.
    Then, the secretary returned—with the look of a woman practiced in evasion. You know, tight smile, posture forced into a relaxed look, the suggestion of possessing information you’ll never guess or be privy to. Either she could get her shit back together fast, or somebody else was in the back.
    â€œNow, what is it Mr. Darvis?”
    â€œYou asked if I was working with the police. Have they been by?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI see. Any police
call
?”
    She almost seemed to warm up to the initiation of an old, familiar game. Her eyes took on a sparkle.
    â€œAn officer did call, yes.”
    â€œOfficer Hamilton?”
    â€œYes, it
was
.” The word “was” lurched out, like a car in the wrong gear. “How did you know?”
    She gave a little, so I decided to give a little, too, to keep her giving. “He took a statement from me this morning, since I was a witness, and saw what happened at the preschool.”
    â€œAnd what was that?” Composed again, she folded her arms.
    â€œDidn’t Officer Hamilton tell you? About Mr. Hanady’s daughter?” I raised my eyebrows for effect. If she didn’t know, she would expect the worst and might show some feeling. Instead, she studied my face for a moment, like she knew the game was still on.
    â€œYes, he did tell me. And I don’t see what the fuss is about. Mr. Hanady obviously returned home early and thought he would surprise Rachel by picking her up. I’m sure he’s home now. With Mrs. Hanady.” After she spoke, she held her left arm up and stared at her wristwatch.
    â€œHas he returned home early by surprise before?”
    â€œHe keeps an erratic schedule. Markets change, seasons change. We’re used to it here.”
    â€œUh-huh. Has Mr. Hanady behaved strangely lately? Anything unusual—outside of his normally erratic schedule?”
    â€œNot at all. He’s very pleasant most of the time.”
    â€œMost of the time? ”
    She uncrossed her arms, took a step toward me, and leveled her gaze. From where I was sitting, her face dominated my field of