Free Stalker's Luck (Solitude Saga Book 1) by Chris Strange

his foot in the door. “No need to get hasty. I can pay for the information.”
    “What the hell do I need with money? Move your foot.”
    He ignored her. “You worked the bar at Lady Luck Gentlemen’s Club.”
    “You’ve got the wrong woman.”
    “Someone says otherwise. And your picture was on the vid screen advertising the place.”
    “And?”
    Eddie slammed his shoulder into the door. She bounced back and he slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind him.
    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Palmer said. “Get out of my house.”
    Eddie shook his head, crossed the room, and sat down in a broken couch with half the stuffing missing.
    “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll get lost as soon as we’ve had a little chat. I talked to a friend of yours, he told me where to find you. I just want to know about another girl who worked at Lady Luck.”
    She glared at him from the door. “I’ll call the law.”
    He cracked a smile. “Go ahead. Maybe they’ll get here in a day or so. Then I’ll tell them who I am and they’ll be on their way and you’ll be right back where you started. Trust me, sweetheart. The fastest way to get me out of here is to talk. This girl—”
    “I didn’t talk to any of the other girls. It was a job. I did it five nights a week for three months then left when it burnt down. I didn’t know anyone.”
    “That’s all right. Anything you can tell me will be helpful. This girl, she’d be about thirty-five now. Curly reddish-brown hair, green eyes, bit of a curve to her. The vid ad called her Daisy.”
    “I don’t know. They’ve all got some stupid flower name like that. Daisy or Violet or Rose or Petal. It could’ve been any of them.”
    Eddie leaned back and spread his arms on the back of the couch. “Why are you being so difficult? It’s a simple question.”
    “I can’t remember. Why can’t you get that through your head?”
    Eddie let his head loll to the side as he examined the apartment. It was a tiny shoebox, more of a cheap motel room than a proper apartment. The single bed was crammed into a corner in the back of the room. A tiny kitchenette was built into a hollow in one wall, alongside an open door leading to the bathroom. On the other side of the room were a couple of shelves holding a busted vid screen and a handful of synth-paper books. He turned his head to the side to read the titles. He grinned.
    “What?” Palmer said.
    Eddie pointed. “That book. That’s one of mine. The Fall of the Virgin Assassin. What’d you think?”
    “It’s not mine. It came with the apartment.”
    Eddie stood and strolled over to the shelves.
    “What are you doing?” Palmer said, her voice rising slightly.
    “Easy, sweetheart. I just want to have a look. I didn’t know they put this one out in paper. I forgot I even wrote it.” He pushed a couple of other books aside to pick it up. The text was smeared slightly on the thin pages; always the trouble with this piece of shit synth-paper. He thumbed through a few pages and remembered why he’d forgotten this particular book. Not one of his best.
    As he returned the novel to the shelf, his eyes caught on a thin seam running vertically down the wall at the edge of the shelf. Strange workmanship. He tried to follow the seam. It looked almost like there was a panel there. Maybe a storage cupboard. He reached out to find a handle.
    “She’s dead,” Palmer said.
    Eddie stopped. He turned to look at the woman. “What?”
    “The girl you’re looking for. She’s dead.”
    He studied her face. Her lips were tight. She was nervous. “You’re lying.”
    She shook her head. “She was causing trouble at the club. Stealing from customers, trying to get hold of a travel pass. So her employer had her killed.”
    Eddie slipped his hands into his pockets. “Her employer? You mean the woman who burned her club down?”
    She hesitated. “Yes.”
    “You’re lying again.”
    “It was her. We called her the Witch. She had the