Funny Money by James Swain

Author:James Swain [Swain, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780345466587
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2003-03-17T13:00:00+00:00

He called Davis on his cell phone and caught the detective driving in his car. Davis did not sound happy. They agreed to meet at the IHOP.

Ten minutes later Valentine pulled into the vacant lot and parked. Locking the .38 in the glove compartment, he went inside.

Dottie, his least favorite waitress, was manning the register, an impossibly long ash dangling from her cigarette. He'd never come back for his change, and he stopped at the counter.

“Remember me?”

“Nope.”

“I was in the other day with my son. I gave you a hundred-dollar bill for breakfast; you said you didn't have any change. Told me to come back later.”

“Wasn't me,” Dottie said.

“Sure it was.”

“Look mister . . .”

“I want my change,” he said irritably. “The meal was nine bucks. Add a buck tip, and you owe me ninety dollars.”

“I'm telling you, it wasn't me.”

Valentine could tell where this was going. He should have come back immediately and not let Dottie write him off. In the back counter mirror he saw Davis's Thunderbird pull in. The detective came through the front door with a stern look on his face, his designer shades vanishing into his breast pocket. He was wearing hip-hugger jeans and a black leather jacket and looked just like he'd stepped off a movie set. Valentine motioned him over.

“Dottie, this is my friend Eddie.”

“Hi,” she said stiffly.

“Hello, Dottie,” the detective said.

“Dottie and I have a little disagreement,” Valentine said, “which you could settle by showing her your credentials.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your badge.”

Davis flipped open his wallet and stuck his silver detective's badge in the mean-spirited woman's face. Dottie changed colors, her waxy cheeks glowing red. Davis kept the badge out, and Valentine sensed that he was enjoying himself. Maybe he'd come in for coffee once and Dottie had been slow serving him. Or hadn't bothered serving him at all. That kind of crap went on every day in America.

“So what do you think?” Valentine asked her.

The no sale flag appeared on the register. Dottie counted ninety dollars into his waiting palm. Valentine handed her two dollars back. “Two coffees, when you get a chance.”

“I hope she's not in the back pissing in our cups,” Davis said as they slid into the farthest booth from the counter. “I've seen that one before.”

“Why don't you ask her?” Valentine suggested.

“You're just filled with good ideas, you know that?”

Their coffee came, Dottie bringing giant mugs and pouring from a fresh pot, treating them like normal customers. Davis spooned cream and sugar into his mug, then said, “I thought you told me yesterday you were going to apologize to Kat Berman.”

So that was what this was about. Feeling relieved, Valentine said, “I got sidetracked.”

“Well, she called the station this morning. The call got transferred to me. I told her we'd spoken, and how sorry you were. I promised her I'd find you and get you to apologize.”

Davis was starting to grow on him. He said, “Did she give you a number where I can reach her?”

“You're not getting off that easy,” Davis said.

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