Shoot From the Lip by Leann Sweeney

Author:Leann Sweeney [Sweeney, Leann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Detective, Mystery & Detective, Rose, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Women private investigators, Fiction, Abby (Fictitious character), Suspense, General, Single mothers, Texas
ISBN: 9780451220172
Google: FqGrKXdIYPgC
Amazon: 045122017X
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2007-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

17

I arrived at Murray Motorcycles forty-five minutes later. First I noticed the sign saying Murray’s was in the repair business, but they offered used sales as well. On the door of the storefront, the words THESE PREMISES PROTECTED BY SMITH AND WESSON were painted on the glass. I peered inside, but the small showroom and sales counter were deserted. The door was locked, too, but the garage doors were raised and I walked in there. A man with braided gray hair and massive muscles knelt by a bike in the garage.

He greeted me with “Are you wanting a new ride?” without getting up.

“I’m looking for Rhoda.”

“Did you talk to her on the phone about a bike?”

He didn’t take his eyes off whatever he and his wrench were doing.

“Um, no. My name is Abby Rose and I’m a private investigator. I’m hoping Rhoda can help me with a case I’m working on.”

The man stood and focused amazing blue eyes on me—eyes almost as wonderful as Jeff’s. Then he stared past me at the street. “I’m Larry Murray, her husband. She’s out test-riding a bike I repaired. Did you bring a partner in another car?”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“The person who seems to have followed you here—Oops. They’re gone.”

I turned to check the street, thinking how this man’s perfect grammar and soft-spoken manner were smashing some of my “biker guy” stereotypes—though he did have the leather vest, tattooed arms and multiple ear piercings.

“No one followed me.” I sounded defensive and hated that I did. I’d been constantly checking my rearview and side mirrors. Besides, for some unexplainable reason, I didn’t want this man thinking I learned to wave good-bye only yesterday.

“I’m commenting on what I observed,” Murray said with a smile.

He was probably right, too. I remembered Jeff’s words: If a follower knows where his target is headed, tailing someone is pretty easy. Kravitz did have me followed.

“White Ford Focus,” Murray went on. “Driver wore sunglasses and a cap. Hard to tell gender.” His demeanor was in no way condescending. He wasn’t showing off, just offering information. I decided I should be grateful, not defensive.

I smiled. “Thanks for telling me.”

He grinned. He grabbed a filthy rag and wiped his hands. “Let’s go into the office, see what this is about.”

I followed him, saying, “Rhoda’s who I need to talk to.”

He opened a door smudged with oily fingerprints, allowed me to enter the store first and said, “After thirty years together, Rhoda’s business is my business. But if you’d rather wait on her, have a seat.”

A row of connected molded chairs sat against one wall. Two shiny motorcycles took up most of the floor space—those and a stack of tires.

“Maybe both of you can help me,” I said.

He went behind the counter, picked up a container of waterless hand cleaner and squeezed some into his palm. “I’m an agreeable person and am more than happy to answer your questions. Rhoda is a horse of a different color. You might test your luck with me first.

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