Blood Perfect (A Joe Turner Mystery Book 1) by T.L. Bequette

Author:T.L. Bequette [Bequette, T.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2022-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

On the five-minute walk to the Oakland Public Library, Amanda checked in.

—How was the afternoon session, gorgeous man?—

—Uneventful. Currently on my way to visit with a prostitute in a library. Or is it a librarian in a whorehouse? I’ve forgotten.—

—What a life you lead, Joe Turner.—

I climbed the massive granite steps of the building to be greeted inside by a woman behind the desk who was right out of central casting. The model of silent efficiency, she glided behind the high counter in soft shoes, presented a sign-in clipboard for a conference room, and produced a pen from somewhere near her hair, pulled back tightly from her face.

“For how long do you require the room?” she whispered, her face expressionless under horn-rimmed glasses. Librarians had always intimidated me. They’re such quiet, pale masters of their universe.

“Probably thirty minutes?” I said, questioning myself.

She remained silent, but raised both eyebrows dramatically and turned her palms up, just above the counter, saying in her silent library language, “Well, you’re the only person who would know.”

“Thirty is fine,” I whispered obediently.

She produced a key and mouthed the words “number three,” nodding her head toward three rooms on the back wall opposite the entrance. I was relieved to find each with a large window.

On my way to the room, I scanned the premises for someone who may be Ms. Belton. Chuck hadn’t gotten a description, and it turned out it wasn’t necessary.

Speaking of central casting, I thought to myself. She was tall and on the larger side, with shoulder-length peroxided hair I suspected was a wig and enough make-up to make any realistic estimation of her age impossible. A rain coat was cinched tight, wrapping her in black leather, down to thigh-high boots with stiletto heels.

“Ms. Belton?” I said quietly as I approached, not stopping and gesturing toward the conference room. Once inside, I extended my hand. “I’m Joe Turner,” I said, shaking a cold hand.

“I’m Sierra,” she said in a smoker’s raspy voice. “Thanks for meeting me here. I know it’s an odd place, but I just need to make sure I’m safe.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” I took a seat and gestured to a chair a few feet away. She sat and set a large leather bag on the floor next to her. She crossed her legs, the stilettos only a few feet away.

“Well…” She paused and looked behind her out into the library. “I’m sorry, I’m just really scared,” she said quietly, showing a yellowish smile.

“I completely understand, Ms. Belton. Take your time.”

She breathed deeply. “I know I should have spoken up sooner, but I was at the Islander that night, and I saw a man rush out right before the cops and ambulance arrived. I saw Mr. Walker’s mugshot a few months ago in the paper after he was arrested. The man I saw that night wasn’t Walker. He was a much younger man.

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