A is for Amnesia, B is for Bullet: Alex Cheradon #2 by Jason Krumbine

Author:Jason Krumbine
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 25

Animal Time

“You should know that I’m still harboring a deep-seated resentment towards you over abandoning me like you did at Victerns,” Nicky said, exiting the cab.

“Get over it,” I replied, shelling out fifty bucks. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had to take a cab. Oh the embarrassment. The shame.

And to top it off, the cab driver wasn’t even Indian. He was white, middle-aged, spoke perfect English and knew exactly how to get us to our destination. He even managed to shave off five minutes from the drive time. I mean, who employs cab drivers like that? Wasn’t part of the whole atmosphere to have Indian cab drivers who didn’t know where they were going?

I wonder how many people I just offended…

“Get over it?” Nicky scoffed. “Is this how you’re going to deal with situations like these? By telling me to get over it? How does that display good management skills? How does that display any management skills whatsoever and what the heck are we doing here?”

By ‘here’ Nicky meant the small pet shop located between a Jiffy Lube and Saint Matthew’s Beauty Salon. P.F. Chang’s Exotic Pet Emporium was the name that hung proudly over the front doors.

Try saying that five times fast.

Mrs. Worthington said, once she had stopped crying and making faces and comments about the stench, that the last time she had seen Mr. Worthington (it wouldn’t surprise me to find that she had Mr. Worthington listed as the sole beneficiary in her will) was yesterday morning. That night she had received a note saying that if she ever wanted to see Mr. Worthington again she would have to payout five thousand dollars. The note went on to say that the catnapper would contact Mrs. Worthington when it was time to make the trade. The note had been unsigned; obviously the villain in question had wanted to remain anonymous. In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have used P.F. Chang’s Exotic Pet Emporium stationary.

“Oh, look, they have a special! Have your hair colored and get half off your hair cut,” Nicky pressed his face up against the salon’s window. “Oooh, pretty.”

“What? The hair?”

“No, the wallpaper,” Nicky whistled. “I had no idea wallpaper was in again. Can our office look like this?”

Rolling my eyes I grabbed Nicky and dragged him into the pet shop. “Come on.”

“Wait. Maybe the salon’s connected. Maybe it’s some kind of evil catnapping, haircutting empire they’ve got going on. I should investigate,” Nicky said quickly.

“No,” I replied, the bells jingling as we entered P.F. Chang’s Exotic Pet Emporium.

Nick folded his arms and pouted. “You never let me have any fun.”

“That’s right,” I said, “and you know why?”

“Because you’re bitter and cold hearted?” Nicky suggested.

“No,” I replied. “You’re my employee. Therefore if I’m not having any fun, neither are you.”

“That’s what I just said. Bitter and cold hearted.”

I rolled my eyes.

We made our way down one of the aisles.

The floors were a little dirty. And when I say, “a little dirty” I mean they were filthy.

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