Frosty Fortune (A Claire Rollins Mystery Book 12) by J A Whiting

Author:J A Whiting [Whiting, J A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J A Whiting Books and Whitemark Publishing
Published: 2023-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

Claire walked down the sidewalk with purpose.

“He can’t be in a bar this early in the morning.” Nicole hurried to keep pace with her friend as she pulled her scarf close around her neck against the cold wind.

“He could be.” Claire smiled. “But I think I know where he is at this time of day.”

“Nowhere sketchy, I hope.” Nicole frowned at the thought of seeing Bob Cooney. She did not like the man and wanted nothing to do with him, but Cooney was often helpful to Claire when she was on a case so she went along with her friend.

Claire turned down a side street off of Boylston and headed for a café where she hoped to find Cooney. When they opened the door, it felt good to step into the warm, cozy coffee shop. Scanning the patrons as she removed her hat, Claire spotted the man sitting alone at a table close to the fireplace and reading the newspaper.

Claire approached. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d read a paper version of the news.”

Cooney looked up as surprise washed over his expression. “Look what the cat dragged in.” The man closed the newspaper and slid it to the side of the table. “And I thought I was safe from intrusion in here.”

In his late fifties, Cooney was fit and slim, about average height, with jet black hair that he clearly dyed, and dark brown eyes. His clothes were usually understatedly-fashionable and always expensive. That morning, he wore a collared shirt under a bulky sweater. His pricey winter jacket was set on the seat next to him. Cooney was a former private investigator who was known for his shady dealings. If he didn’t know about something that went on in the greater Boston area, he always knew someone who did.

“You’re not the only one good at tracking people down,” Claire told him. “Mind if we sit?”

“In fact I do mind unless your sour puss friend is capable of being civil to me.” Cooney lifted his coffee mug to his lips.

As Claire slid into the seat across from him, Nicole turned to walk away. “I’m going to sit by the windows while you two chat.”

“Sour puss isn’t very friendly,” Cooney observed.

“She is to everyone else but you.”

“That’s low, Rollins … and after all I’ve helped you with.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cooney leaned back in his seat. “I heard you were all at Sasha St. Stephen’s book launch party. How odd it is that murders happen wherever you go. That lover boy detective of yours should start suspecting you of being some sort of a crime catalyst.”

Claire sighed. “Do you know Cornell Brown?”

The man broke off a piece of a muffin and popped it into his mouth. “Not personally.”

“But you know who he is?”

“He’s a hedge fund VP. Stuffy, stuck up, thinks the world of himself, and often wears a bow tie. My impression is he isn’t anywhere near as smart as he thinks he is.”

“Good to know.”

The waiter brought a cup of coffee over for Claire, and she wrapped her cold hands around it.

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