Lesbian Assassins 2 by Audrey Faye

Author:Audrey Faye [Faye, Audrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Fireweed Publishing Ltd
Published: 2015-06-06T22:00:00+00:00

It had taken Carly about five percent of the drive back from Danno’s to get her mojo going. And about half that long to get Rosie and Lelo moving once we’d gotten back to our motel. Three brains going full speed at the online detective work. Lelo and Rosie were looking at the clean, bright parts of the Internet. Carly was digging for dirt.

My job, probably because they felt sorry for me, was to keep track of what we found. So far, we knew he was careful, he had too many empty afternoons on his official cop reports, and he liked baseball teams that lost an awful lot of their games.

So far, no smoking gun.

“I have something weird.” Rosie’s forehead wrinkled at her screen. “You gave us a list of user names to search for, right?”

It was one of Carly’s best tricks. Criminals and dickwads can’t remember their usernames and passwords any better than the rest of us, so they tend to use them over and over. An Internet footprint of sorts.

Carly was already peering over Rosie’s shoulder. “You found something?”

“Yeah. Restaurant reviews. Thousands of them.”

I hoped she’d found them somewhere nice and legal. “We’re going to hunt down a guy because he likes to eat?”

Carly reached over and typed a couple of things into Rosie’s keyboard. “He’s posted 9,343 of them.” She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “How many cops do you know who like escargots à la bourguignonne?”

I had no idea what those were. “That sounds totally suspicious.”

“Exactly.” She was reading her screen now, eyes flicking left to right in a neurotic zigzag. “And he thinks pupusas revueltas are a dessert.” She grinned. “Someone gave him shit for that one.”

Traveling with a foodie for three years has taught me a few things. Pupusas are a tortilla sandwich with fillings made in Salvadorian heaven. They also didn’t exist within a thousand miles of our current location, which was something my belly had started to protest very loudly. I told it to shush. “He’s telling lies in his reviews?”

“Lots of them.” She chomped a huge bite of granola bar, assassin hot on the trail of something that smelled. “Now why do you think a cop is posting reviews for restaurants he’s never eaten at?”

Maybe this gun was starting to smoke a little. “He’s trying to impress the ladies?” It was a weak guess, but I had no idea why people did most things online.

“If he was trying to do that, he’d eat more oysters and less escargots.”

Note to self—never date a foodie. “So he’s not very good at trying to impress the ladies?”

“You’re kind of right.” The granola bar was disappearing at a frightening rate. “He’s trying to get someone’s attention. Lots of strange, random sentences in these reviews, or here, he says that Capo Verde tostadas are better than the ones at Michele’s.”

I was back to being totally lost. “You say that kind of stuff all the time.”

“Of course I do.” Her eyes twinkled over the top of her laptop.

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