J.P. Bowie - Portrait 1 - A Portrait of Phillip by J.P. Bowie

Author:J.P. Bowie [Bowie, A Novel by J.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter 10 s

“

O

ur friend in Laguna tells me the Brandon boy isn’t doing very well.” Frank’s nerves were on edge as he listened to the now only too familiar voice with its patrician accent, on the other end of the line.

“Really? That’s good news isn’t it?”

“If it’s true.” A moment’s pause, and then, “One can’t rely too heavily on that source, you know. He’s been wrong before and if you remember, cost me a lot of money as a result. I’d like you to check it out, Frank. Find out for me if Brandon is really no longer a threat. Find out if what our source says is true or not.”

“I’ll go visit him at the weekend,” Frank said resignedly. “I just got back to work and I can’t take time off till then.”

“Keep me informed. I must tell you, I don’t trust him anymore.”

“He’s getting nervous again?”

“As a kitten. He’s afraid the committee is going to do some investigating as to why the deal didn’t go through as planned, and he’ll come up smelling like dung. If he does, he’ll squawk for sure.”

“Seems to me he might be more of a threat than Brandon.”

“Could be you’re right, Frank. Well, we’d just have to take care of that now, wouldn’t we?”

“It’ll cost you a heck of a lot more, this time.”

“We’ll talk about that when the time comes. What about Billy?”

- 127 “He’s no longer a threat,” Frank said tersely.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning he shot himself cleaning his gun.”

“Unfortunate. Keep in touch.”

Frank put the phone down and groaned inwardly. He really didn’t

want anything more to do with this guy. How many more dirty jobs was he going to come up with? He didn’t want anything to screw up his life with Susan, and each time he had to ‘take care of things’ he felt one step closer to the danger of losing her. She’d never understand how he had got himself mixed up in this. The sweat on his back turned cold at the thought of her ever finding out.

“Damn,” he said aloud, punching the payphone. “Damn it to hell!” Andrew sat opposite Peter in the little coffee bistro they had found near the park on one of their runs. His face was a comic mixture of awe and surprise as he hung on every word Peter had to say about his meeting with Jeff the previous day.

“And you really told him to get out?” “I’m afraid so.” Peter looked a little shame-faced by this part of the story.

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Impressed?”

“That he came back, I mean,” Andrew laughed.

“Yeah, I was too, after I got over the shock of seeing him standing there.”

“Okay, so tell me, is he the dreamboat David says he is?”

“I suppose so.” Peter averted his eyes from Andrew’s and suddenly for no good reason he could fathom, he felt vaguely embarrassed.

“Peter? Why are you blushing?” Andrew was now trying hard not to laugh at his friend’s discomfort, but his efforts were in vain. “Come on, ‘fess up,” he giggled.

“Stop that.

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