Deadline for Lenny Stern by Peter Marabell (easy books to read in english .txt) 📗

males, white.”

“What age?” I said.

“My age, give or take,” Jimmy said.

In other words, two teenage white boys again.

“Car?” I said.

Jimmy shook his head. “F-150, light green, good-sized dent on the left rear fender, cracked taillight.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Henri said.

“Sorry, man, not my job.”

“What’re you doing here, anyway?” I said.

“Keeping an eye on you.”

“I meant …”

“I know what you meant,” Jimmy said. “Santino Cicci told me you were on the way back to the mainland.”

Henri glanced at his SUV.

“Your ride’s okay,” Jimmy said. “I poured water on it, came right off. Wash the car.”

“See which way they went?” I said.

“I did better than that,” Jimmy said, smiling. “I followed them.”

I waited, figuring there was more.

“Carp Lake.”

Carp Lake had been a dot on the map south of Mackinaw City since the 1880s. It sat between US 31 and Paradise Lake.

“One of those old, beat-up cottages down from the Post Office.” Jimmy pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Henri. “The number’s hard to see, but it’s there, on the doorframe.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You going back to Petoskey now?” Jimmy said.

“Yeah.”

“My car’s over by the bakery,” Jimmy said. “I’ll meet you at the car wash.”

38

“Was that supposed to be a threat, Henri?” Tina said. “That stuff on your car. Was it supposed to be blood?”

It took Henri ten minutes with a high-pressure hose to clean the surface of his car. Lenny and Tina sat patiently in the back seat while I texted with Sandy, telling her I wouldn’t get to the office tomorrow until after I’d met with Captain Fleener and Prosecutor Hendricks.

We made our way back to Petoskey with Jimmy Erwin following along at a discrete distance. We knew he was there, and if the shooters tried something, Jimmy would spot them first.

“Not sure what it meant, Tina,” Henri said. “A threat’s a good guess.” We picked up speed on 31 South. “Let’s get Lenny and Tina home safe first, then you want to find those guys at Carp Lake?”

I thought about his question. The obvious answer was yes, particularly since Jimmy Erwin had handed us a good tip. But I wasn’t sure.

“Is this about a new lead,” I said, “or your car?” I knew Henri was pissed about the affront to his SUV.

“This isn’t personal, Michael. It’s business.”

“You been waiting a long time to use that line, haven’t you?”

Henri ignored my sarcastic reference movieland gangsters.

“Let’s wait till tomorrow,” I said. “I’d like to see what Fleener has to say first. Might be good to know if we are dealing with a gang.”

“You won’t have to be babysitters tomorrow,” Tina said.

“What time do you head back to Chicago?” I said.

“First plane in the morning.”

“How about it, Lenny, when are you going down?”

Lenny looked up from his phone. “No sooner than I have to.”

Tina laughed. “Tomorrow, Michael. We’re on the same flight.”

“I’ll get you to the airport,” Henri said. “After that you’re Gloucester Publishing’s problem.”

“I’m not looking forward to the Chicago stop,” Lenny said. “I like Michigan events, the ones here. All the VIP small talk in Chicago, it’s not my style. I’ll be glad when this tour is over.”

“Me, too,” Tina said, a touch of resignation in her voice.

“Drop me at the office, Henri,” I said.

After a moment or two, Henri said, “You seeing AJ tonight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Remember …”

“You don’t have to say it, Henri.” I knew what he’d tell me. I didn’t need to be reminded again. I didn’t feel like talking about AJ, particularly with our companions in the back seat.

“It’s … I’ll be fine,” I said.

Henri dropped me in front of the office. The sidewalks were crowded with visitors about to transition from shopping in stores to menu shopping for dinner.

Sandy was gone for the day, but she’d left a sticky note on my desktop screen: “You should call AJ”

I laughed at them, Sandy and Henri. Were they sticking their noses into my personal life? Of course they were, but they weren’t nosy people. Were they just worried about both AJ and me? Probably.

I wrote a couple of notes for the meeting with Fleener, stuck them in my brief bag and left for home. It was time for a break, time to play tourist, just AJ and me for sandwiches on the water. Once home I pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a threadbare polo shirt and grubby Chaco sandals. I took the back way to the Harbor-Petoskey Road and turned in at the State Park.

I wound my way toward the beach house, left my car in the lot and walked toward the water. I spotted AJ at a table with a small blue-and-white cooler.

“This seat taken, lady?”

“I’m waiting for a guy I know … hey, it’s you. I didn’t recognize you in those clothes.”

“You making fun of my summer wardrobe?”

“I am,” she said. “Are you really a private eye?”

“Not right now,” I said, and leaned in to kiss her hello. Her silly greeting felt comfortably familiar, loving.

“What’s in the cooler?”

“Dinner courtesy of Toski-Sands.”

Toski-Sands, a small market on the Harbor-Petoskey Road barely a half mile from the park entrance, had both a delicious deli and a knowledgeable staff.

AJ opened the cooler.

“J Lohr Chardonnay,” she said. “Already opened.” She put two glasses out, and I filled them.

She opened a bag. “Tuna salad and chicken salad. Take your pick. And a chef’s salad to split.”

We arranged everything on the table, and I raised my glass. “A toast.”

“Yes, a toast,” she said. “To what?”

I smiled. “To a summer dinner on the beach.”

“Here, here.”

We opened our sandwiches and salads and dug in.

“When did Toski-Sands start offering real silverware and cloth napkins?”

AJ grinned. “Smart-ass. I just thought the real stuff would be more fun.”

“Elegance on the beach?”

“Exactly,” she said, and lifted her glass. “Another toast … to elegance on the beach.” We touched glasses, took drinks, and returned to the food.

“You said everything went okay on the island.”

“It did.”

“Was the Iroquois dining room full?”

“Lenny has his fans.” I explained the afternoon, starting with the charm and wit of Lenny