The Hired Man by Dorien Grey

Author:Dorien Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2015-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The minute I walked in the office on Monday, I went directly to the phone to call Lt. Richman, not even bothering to take the lid off the jumbo Styrofoam cup of coffee I’d picked up from the diner in the lobby. I knew he might very well not even be in yet, but I couldn’t have just sat around waiting.

Luckily, when the receiver was picked up on the other end, I heard the familiar “Lieutenant Richman.”

“Lieutenant—Dick.”

I hoped he knew which Dick, since I was just a tad paranoid about having my full name become too well known around police headquarters. I had no reason to think anyone would be listening but, hey, it was police headquarters and I said I was paranoid.

“I saw the paper,” I said, again not being specific, “and noticed that development you were referring to Friday. Is there any chance of our getting together to talk?”

There was a pause, then: “We’re really pretty busy around here.” Another pause. “Do you still go to Sandler’s for lunch?”

Aha! I thought. Maybe I’m not the only one a little bit paranoid.

I’d never been to Sandler’s for lunch, but since we’d met there a couple times for breakfast, I got the message.

“Yeah,” I said. “Regular as clockwork…noon every day.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you there one of these days. Sorry, but I’ve got a meeting in about two minutes, so have to run.”

“No problem,” I said. “Take care.”

*

Finding a place to park near Sandler’s at 7:00 a.m. was one thing, finding a place to park at noon was something entirely different. Finally, I gave up in disgust and pulled into a public parking garage, one of those that charge so much the guy in the booth taking your money should be wearing a mask and carrying a gun.

By the time I found a parking place—I went up and down every aisle for three levels before I found one—I practically had to sprint to the restaurant in order to make it on time. Not to worry, though. Richman was nowhere in sight.

I found a booth within easy sight of the door and sat facing it. The waiter came, and I told him I was expecting someone momentarily but that I’d have some coffee while I waited. I was on the end of my second cup and debating whether I should order or just leave when Lt. Richman walked in the door. He was in civvies, like the day I’d met him in Warman Park, and once again, as I watched him approach, I speculated on the gay world’s loss when Richman took out his Breeder’s permit.

We shook hands as he sat down.

“Sorry,” he said, “the meeting ran a lot longer than I expected, and I’d planned to go to the gym at lunch today.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I screwed up your plans,” I said, “but I really do appreciate your seeing me.”

The waiter arrived with water for the lieutenant and a full coffee carafe.

“Do you have any idea what the hell is going on?” Richman asked as the waiter left and we studied our menus.

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