Read Invasion of Privacy - Jeremiah Healy for Free Online Page B

nonexistent condo
clients to the local uniforms.
    Just before the intersection, the photocopy shop
appeared on the right, but from the low lighting inside, it wasn't
open. I'd intended to ask about Dees first at Plymouth Willows
anyway, but why wouldn't an independent businessman have his place up
and running by noontime? Beyond the crossroads was The Tides, where
Olga Evorova told me she'd first met Dees. Pretty hungry by now, I
had to have lunch somewhere, and I found a parking space next to it.
    The interior of The Tides was pretty generic: an
oblong pub bar in the back, burled walnut veneer on both the walls
and the booths against them. Benches for the booths stood high, with
brass coat hooks screwed into the wood and cream-colored Formica
covering the tables. Paint-by-numbers beach prints were framed and
almost centered under brass wall sconces. The midday-meal crowd
seemed mostly retirees lounging in the booths and people who drank
their lunches lounging at the bar, which wasn't tended just now.
    I took a stool across from a booth that held the only
teenagers in the place, a pair of girls wearing the kinds of outfits,
hairdos, and jewelry you'd find on the cover of a science fiction
magazine. The Tides was quiet enough that I could hear their
conversation, even though they weren't trying to project.
    One had purple hair, purple rouge, and purple
lipstick, her yellow-and-green-striped sweatshirt torn at the
shoulder, the matching athletic pants torn at the knee. "God, it
is such a bummer about your dad."
    The second girl—metallic platinum with dark roots
but dressed in a long-sleeved black T-shirt, ankle-length black
skirt, and black combat boots—pushed the remains of a garden salad
around on her plate. "Hey, like tell me about it, awright?"
    "But it's just so wicked unfair, Kira. I mean,
you are seventeen years young, you know? This is supposed to be the
most awesome time of your life."
    "So. I'm gonna have to wait a while."
    "But all the school you're missing—"
    Putting down her fork, Kira said, "Look, Jude, I
have to get back, and you got class in like ten minutes."
    "Awright. Where's our check?"
    A brunette waitress in a frilly white blouse and pink
stirrup pants came out from what I guessed to be the kitchen, Jude
paying cash for both meals. As the girls left, the waitress moved
behind the bar. Oyster and clam shells were sticking up from a bed of
crushed ice garnished with some lemon wedges and parsley sprigs. She
smiled at me from the far side of thirty. "What'll you have?"
    The nametag on the blouse read "Edie."
Glancing toward the booths, I said, "Double duty?"
    A shrug, but she kept the smile shining, maybe
because it was her best feature. "Used to do it on the
airplanes, I can do it here. Drink?"
    I nodded at the draft pulls. "Harpoon."
    "You got it."
    Edie sidled over to the freezer and pulled out a
ten-ounce mug with frost coating its sides. Curling her lower lip
under her front teeth, she concentrated on drawing the ale, reminding
me of a kindergarten kid with finger paint. After topping the mug,
then spilling some off and topping it again, she brought the drink
over to me, first slapping a napkin down on the wood.
    "Menu, or would you like something from the raw
bar?"
    I looked toward the bed of ice. "They fresh?"
    "Hey, they're not just fresh, they're still
alive in there. That's what makes it so hard to shuck them." She
picked up a short, sturdy knife. "When I stick this in, they're
still holding on to the insides of the shell. If they were dead, the
shells'd be open, like you see on the beach by the tideline."
    "And since they're still alive in there . . ."
    "I'm really breaking their grip by cutting their
heads off at the neck."
    "Glad I asked."
    Edie laughed. "So, the raw bar's out?"
    "For today, anyway. How are your burgers?"
    "Dead. Definitely dead."
    "Medium, then. No fries, green salad."
    "Watching your weight?"
    I decided to establish a little more of my cover
story.
    "Have a long afternoon