I.O.U. Dead by Michelle Wan

Author:Michelle Wan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC031010, FIC048000, FIC022000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2015-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

SIX

I sit in Jaco’s car, trying to calm down, get my breathing under control, work out what to do. My first impulse is to drive to Jaco’s, catch him before he takes off with my half of the cash. I’ll tell him what I think of him, a slimeball, a double-crossing bastard, shout it out in front of his wife and kids. Problem is, I don’t know where he lives. He knows where I live because he’s dropped me off a couple of times, but I know next to nothing about him. Apart from what he told me about his family and all, he’s like a clam. I claw around in the glove compartment, in the sun visor and side pockets of the car, looking for something, anything, with his address. Zilch. I’m not even sure what his last name is.

My next impulse is to go home, pack what I need and take off. I don’t have much money, but I’ve got Jaco’s car and I can disappear. Then I think maybe going home isn’t such a good idea, because I’m starting to wonder, What if Jaco didn’t double-cross me? He has a temper like a bear, but somehow he’s never struck me as the kind of guy who’d go behind your back. He’d sooner smash your face in. That makes me think of Amber. I wish I hadn’t used those words.

So let’s just say the tooth prince showed up as instructed. Say he cooked up a convincing story and brought the cops with him. They nabbed Jaco. Then why didn’t they get me? I can’t work it out. But no matter how you look at it, our little blackmail caper has been blown sky-high. We’re on the hook for Amber’s murder, and for all I know, the cops are staking out my pad.

The only place I can think of to go is Cass’s, which is on Bergmann, at the other end of town. I know, not because she’s ever invited me over, but because one time I followed her home. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious to see where she lived—a condo development with bushes out front in a decent neighborhood. She has the ground-floor unit. It’s a lot nicer than my place—an old three-story house rented out by the room with a shared toilet and shower on every floor and a communal kitchen in the basement. It’s actually not too bad. The landlady, Mrs. Sousa, keeps it pretty clean. And the rent is reasonable, especially for this city.

It’s now past midnight, and Cass, as you can imagine, isn’t happy to see me when she finally comes to the door. She’s wearing a terry bathrobe over blue pajamas, her face looks kind of naked because she has no makeup on, her hair is full of curlers, and she’s wearing some kind of pink frilly cap. At first she thinks I’m drunk and refuses to let me in.

“Please, Cass,” I beg. “I’m in big trouble here, and I didn’t do it.

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