Hot Shot (Mike DaleyRosie Fernandez Legal Thriller Book 10) by Sheldon Siegel

Author:Sheldon Siegel [Siegel, Sheldon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sheldon M. Siegel, Inc.
Published: 2019-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

34

“CONFERENCE ROOM G”

“We won’t be going hungry,” I observed.

Pete’s face was tinged in blue and purple from the neon lights as he piled chicken and ribs onto his plate. “Best lunch in town. And still only five bucks.”

At eleven-thirty on Tuesday morning, we were the oldest guys in the buffet line snaking around a cavernous space packed with Millennials, the overwhelming majority of whom were male. Pulsating dance music blared and lights flashed in the Gold Club, an upscale strip joint in a nondescript two-story building on Howard between the swanky W Hotel, the Museum of Modern Art, and the sleek tower housing the world headquarters of LinkedIn and the San Francisco office of Y5K. Twenty years earlier, this area was home to light industry, auto repair shops, and skid row. Nowadays, the Gold Club was in the center of San Francisco’s tech world.

As we pushed our way across the room, a young woman with a pixie haircut and sporting a black corset and short-shorts stopped us. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Pete.”

“Busy working, Bernie. Kids okay?”

“Fine. The twins are in second grade. Your wife still at that law firm around the corner?”

“Yup.”

“Their attorneys come in all the time.”

Pete subtly slid five twenties into her palm. “Bernadette Small, this is my big brother, Mike, the ex-priest and current public defender.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re representing Sexy Lexy.”

“Yes, I am. Do you know her?”

“No.”

“What about Jeff King?”

“He used to come in at least a couple of times a week. Garden-variety asshole whose bank account was exceeded only by his ego.”

That covers it. “I take it that you weren’t impressed?”

“A rich asshole is still an asshole. Very demanding. Crappy tipper. Hit on everybody.”

“You?”

“I’m not his type. He liked them younger with long hair and big breasts.”

Just like Lexy. “Did he ever ask for special services?” It was the euphemism for activities provided in the back rooms for an extra charge.

“Every time.”

“Anybody working here who knew him pretty well?”

“Not anymore. A woman named Jasmine was his favorite, but you’d have to go to Thailand to talk to her.”

Never mind.

Pete discreetly handed her another twenty. “Is Nick here?”

“Usual table.”

“Thanks, Bernie.” He motioned me to follow him.

“Nick?” I said.

“Nick ‘the Dick.’”

“He’s here?”

“At least three times a week.”

Nick “the Dick” Hanson was a ninety-four-year-old P.I. who had been running the Hanson Investigative Agency in North Beach for almost three-quarters of a century. He had started as a one-person shop in a room above what is now the Condor Club on Broadway. Nowadays, he headed a high-tech operation employing dozens of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. In his spare time, he wrote mystery novels that were thinly veiled embellishments of his more colorful cases.

I followed Pete to a table in a corner alcove where Nick was eating by himself. At barely five-feet tall and just over a hundred pounds, he was sporting his usual custom-tailored three-piece suit with a fresh rose in his lapel. He wasn’t an imposing physical specimen, but he was a tenacious investigator and a savvy businessman.

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