"Brown, Roswell - Grace Culver 08 - Kitchen Trap" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Roswell)

But her heart wasn't in the typical exchange of sarcasms with her

good-looking young office mate. She was thinking about Pete Brophy. Tim's

friend. Her dead father's friend.

Andre's was the only hint. It was true that a place like that didn't seem the

right setting for important extortion. But neither was it right for Pete's hangout.

He wouldn't have liked its tawdry noisiness. Home atmosphere was what the

homeless Federal agent had coveted.

So--there must have been some reason for his hanging around the restaurant.

And it might not be so much of an accident that the last time he had been seen

alive he had been nodding farewell to Officer Flannigan from a table in the same

place. "I'm going to find out why," she said again.

And that was the reason a taxi drew up to an Eighth Street intersection at the

hour when the neighborhood restaurants were swinging into their best dinner

business.

A girl stepped out of the cab.

Her curly red hair was almost covered by a hat unmistakably "Bargain

Basement." She was overpainted, but not eye-striking. Overgarnished with cheap

jewelry, but not too conspicuous.

The big pearl swinging on a chain around her neck, and the glittering barpin

on her breast were too obviously false to merit a second glance. The slightly

bulky black coat was so nondescript that it might have been on any of the women

in the hurrying sidewalk crowd.

She paid off her driver in small silver, thrusting the money at him in a hand

covered by a cheap, darned glove. There was nothing about her that the man at

the wheel could have remembered five minutes after his cab had left the curb.