Read Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) for Free Online Page B

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    Cassie ate her food, read the various fax pages, and formulated a plan. From what she could tell, she was good to go with the account in the Caymans. It was just a matter of someone legally verifying her. Sandy at the bank could do that. From there, she would go to the library and transfer the monies. A pang of guilt needled her for a moment, but then she thought about her calculations from the night before. Sergei was getting off easy.
    “More coffee?”
    “Ah yes.” Casually, Cassie folded the fax pages and tucked them away. “Um, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a Los Angeles Times, do you?”
    “Well sure, honey, right here.” Beehive Hairdo grinned and pointed to the counter. “Curtis’s son Tony works for the Times and has it delivered every day. Complimentary. That’s what the men are reading.” She turned and yelled, “Curtis, get me an extra one of those Times. The young lady wants to read it.” She turned back to Cassie. “We get it here first, then it’s delivered elsewhere. Curtis likes to read it with his breakfast every morning. Tony’s a good son.”
    “I guess so.” Cassie gladly accepted the newspaper from the so-called Curtis, who quickly retreated back to his spot.
    “I’ll let you get to your newspaper. Holler if you need anything.”
    Cassie flipped through the Times, hoping for any article about Sergei. She found one toward the back of the first section with a picture and the text reading, “Sergei Koslov also known as, Yuri Sergslov, and his longtime girlfriend, Sashay, an artist and sculptor, leaving the courthouse.”
    “What the hell!” She was his girlfriend, not some dimwitted artist.
    “Everything okay, hon?” called the waitress.
    All the men at the counter were turned, looking at her. The buzz of conversation had halted. If a pin dropped, it would have echoed in the silence.
    She swallowed hard, trying not to reveal her anger. “Everything is fine. I was just reading about…um…the price of gasoline going up.”
    The men nodded and went back to their reading.
    Cassie took a closer look at the photo and recognized the woman. She’d been to their house for a New Year’s Eve party. This had to be why Sergei kept lugging home god-awful paintings and putting them up on the walls. Shaking her head, Cassie wondered what bubble-wrapped world she’d been living in. Obviously, one with a lot of excrement. When she finished reading the Times, she was still livid.
    Never underestimate a pissed off woman , thought Cassie. You owe me big-time asshole . She pulled out her fax and studied the pages. Then she read the banking pamphlets Sandy had given her. Previously, she hadn’t understood the significance of Sergei’s account balances, but now she did. By law, banks had to report to the banking police if the account was over ten thousand dollars. Sergei was just under the red flag of legality, but he wouldn’t be when she got through with him.
    Cassie handed back the newspaper when she paid for her breakfast.
    “Honey, you can keep that. We have a lot more,” said Miss Beehive.
    “Thanks.” She tucked it up under her arm.
    “You have a nice day now,” she said.
    “You know, I think I will.”

    It took about five seconds at the bank to notarize her. Cassie headed back to the motel office to see if she could use the fax machine.
    “Hello?” She stood at the counter looking around. Again, the office seemed empty. Previously she hadn’t noticed a manager’s sign on the back wall, but she did now. Betty Wilson. “Betty?”
    “Is that you, Alexa?”
    How had she signed her note? “Yes, it’s me.”
    “I can’t thank you enough.” Betty came through the back office door, smiling. “I don’t know what you did to that thing, but it works better than ever.”
    “I’m glad I could be of help. Sometimes it’s just a matter of hitting a few buttons. Real quick question, do you know where there’s a fax machine I can use?” Cassie smiled.
    “I