Tom Reed Thriller Series by Rick Mofina

Author:Rick Mofina [Mofina, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, journalism, crime journalism, detective, crime reporting, thriller, suspense, bestselling author, investigative journalism
ISBN: 9781772420753
Publisher: Rick Mofina
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Pulling his Taurus out of the Star’s parking lot downtown, Reed decided Geary, then Divisadero would be the best route to his secret meeting with his anonymous source who promised to tell him who killed Iris Wood.

The caller had offered no details. Wanted to meet Reed within an hour at a specific bench at the northeast corner of Golden Gate Park, near the hospital.

Reed had nothing on at the moment, so he figured he would give it a shot. He dropped the Ford’s front windows, switched on his favorite rock station in time to catch the beginning of “Layla.” He pumped up the volume.

This guy sounded like a nut who’s seen too many bad conspiracy movies. He is either going to want money, a favor, or demand the Star publish his ten-thousand-word manifesto on the parallel universe. Reed shook his head. He had met all kinds.

Upon arriving, Reed’s chief concern was not meeting a stranger, but parking. It was damned near impossible to find a spot anywhere in the city and he was afraid he’d get nailed after he slipped his Ford into a vacant slot in a restricted area.

Ah, to hell with it. Reed hurried to the park carrying a rolled-up newspaper, as his caller had requested.

He found the bench and immediately set a twenty-minute deadline for Mr. X to show up. He really should be chasing Sydowski right now. The only thing this would achieve would be a parking ticket.

Reed took stock of his immediate area. A couple of neo-Haight types playing guitars, a mom with a baby in a stroller. Nothing. Bored, he unfurled the papers, the Chronicle and the Star, to once again study the reports on Iris Wood.

A shadow fell over him.

“You Tom Reed from the paper?”

Reed recognized the voice of the caller, now standing before him. A slight man in his late twenties. About five feet nine inches. One hundred forty pounds. White, head shaved. Goatee. Black jeans. Black T-shirt. A candidate for state time. Spider web tattoo on his right forearm. Stud in his left lobe. Grey eyes. Runny nose. Cokehead.

“Yeah, I’m Tom Reed.”

“Got ID?”

Reed produced his press photo ID and a business card.

“No tape recorders, I want to check you.”

Reed stood. “What’s your name.”

“Slim. Call me Slim.”

“Listen Slim, you are not touching me. I’m not recording this. You called me. Now say what you’ve got to say because I’ve got to be somewhere.”

“Okay.” Slim rubbed his chin, sniffing. Looking around, licking his lips. “You got good police contacts for the district down near Stern Grove?”

Reed nodded. That was where they had found Iris Wood’s car.

“Listen, I had nothing to do with what happened to that woman.”

“Take it easy.”

“I am so jammed up, man. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know. They’re gonna put this crap on me.”

“Slow down. Who is going to put what on you? Slim sit down beside me.”

Slim fished matches and a pack of Camels from his pocket, lit one and drew on it deeply, before sitting next to Reed.

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