The Hidden Throne (Hazzard Pay Book 2) by Charlie Cottrell

Author:Charlie Cottrell [Cottrell, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-10-19T22:00:00+00:00

VII.

I spent the rest of the morning attempting to track down information on Calthus’s new assistant, Percy Chancel, the second oily gentleman I’d met at the bank the day before. I got access to his public records through O’Mally, but didn’t find anything of interest. The man’s background was squeaky clean. He did have a lot to gain from Wallace’s death, but he didn’t seem like the sort who could do the deed himself. One interesting fact was that he was related to Mrs. Margaret Pithman, which I suppose could have just been a coincidence. I knew better than to really believe that, though. In my experience, coincidence was just the universe’s way of reminding you that everybody was guilty of something. I made a mental note to try to track him down outside of the bank and have a couple of words with him, just in case, and to pay another visit to Pithman Construction to see if Mrs. Pithman had some insight to offer.

I sat in my office for a few hours that afternoon, waiting for any of the other dead drops I’d made to pay off. I got a call from one of my usual informants around 3:30, so I grabbed my coat and hat and met her at our usual spot.

Our usual spot was a park bench in Gilbert’s Park, located in what used to be quite a posh neighborhood in Old Town. A local architectural celebrity by the name of Gilbert Parks had designed the place, all rolling grass and ancient oak trees. The park had once been a beautiful place to take a stroll; a safe, green spot in the midst of the chaos and concrete blandness of the city. Now, though, it was mostly used as a meeting place for drug deals and chance sexual encounters with individuals who might or might not leave you short a kidney.

I sat on the graffiti-splashed bench, feeding pigeons with a crust of bread I’d found in my apartment kitchen. The bread might’ve been too stale, given that it slightly concussed a bird when it accidentally hit him in the head. The bird stumbled around for a few minutes, half-spreading its wings to maintain some sort of balance. I watched, not really seeing, my mind miles away.

My informant arrived about ten minutes after I did. She was short, blonde, and blind as a bat. It was odd, in this day and age, to find someone who still had vision problems. Thanks to modern medical technology, parents knew before a baby was even born what sort of genetic baggage they were going to carry and could correct anything that was glaringly bad. Kids had their vision fixed, disabilities erased, and genetic imperfections smoothed over. Usually. Not everyone could afford the procedures, and some people felt it was morally wrong to mess with kids’ DNA. My own folks had fallen into the “too poor to do it” category, but I didn’t know about this girl. Maybe she wasn’t really blind.

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