Free The Angel Maker - 2 by Ridley Pearson Page B

is fucking perfect for this."
    Tegg didn't trust his assessment. Maybeck was more than likely blinded by the possible money. What wouldn't he risk for that?
    "But I'm gonna need your help."
    "My help?" Tegg asked.
    "You're the one who's going to get her to open the door for us."
    Us? Tegg was thinking. Their relationship was symbiotic: Tegg needed a flunky, a go-between with the runaways and with Connie Chi at Bloodlines; Maybeck liked the idea of large amounts of cash for relatively little work. But us? Tegg seldom thought of them as any kind of team. It was an arrangement, was all often an unpleasant one at that. "I'm telling you, Doc. I got it all worked out. We go for it tomorrow morning."
    Tomorrow? Tegg wanted this chance at a heart. But how badly?
    How far was he willing to go? He glanced at his watch; he would have to make arrangements with Wong Kei. Could he arrange a meeting for later tonight?
    it started to sprinkle. Rain would put a quick end to the dog show.
    Maybeck said, "One phone call from you to this girl, Doc, and she's not only going to let us into her home, but she's going to make sure no one else is there. You want me to tell you about it?"
    Tomorrow? Tegg was still thinking. "I'll call you," he said, turning and walking away. Then he changed his mind and headed toward his Trooper parked alongside the Pro Shop. He could use the cellular to call Wong Kei.
    He could put this in motion immediately.
    Dr. Ronald Dixon had something to tell him, and it pertained to Daphne's investigation-Boldt knew that much from the way Dixie had phrased the unexpected invitation to this dinner show.
    The entrance to Dimiti's jazz Alley is, appropriately enough, down an alley, opposite a parking garage. Boldt parked his seven-year-old Toyota and crossed the alley, feeling out of place. He was accustomed to The Big joke's sticky floors and chairs with uneven legs. This place was aimed more at the BMW
    crowd.
    Dixie's wife had allegedly been called to an emergency session of the local Girl Scout chapter, freeing the ticket he now handed to Boldt as the two met at the front door. Boldt didn't believe the story for a minute. Nancy Dixon didn't like clubs.
    That was just Dixie's way of sparing Boldt the fifteen-dollar ticket. Dixie confirmed his status as a regular when the two men were greeted warmly by the host and shown immediately to one of the best tables. Dixon placed a flight bag on the floor but kept it within reach. He could have checked it upstairs along with their coats. Why hadn't he?
    Boldt ordered a glass of milk from the waiter who delivered a Scotch for Dixie-they knew his drink. The house began to fill.
    Good-looking women with good-looking guys. Computer whiz kids and aerospace experts. Older couples who remembered 78s and Big Noise From Winnetka-false teeth, false hair, but real lives. A couple of smokers relegated to the distant seats under the air vents. Bread roll baskets passing by in a blur. Nylons. Even a few spike heels. God, it was good to get out now and then, good to be out with Dixie again. "I bet it's been a year since I've been here," Boldt said. "Kids do that. it'll change."
    "I hope not. I like things the way they are." Some part of Boldt, in spite of his rampant curiosity, wanted Dixie to leave that bag on the floor, wanted to keep the conversation personal, and off whatever that bag contained. "I want to tell you a story," Dixie announced. Boldt's skin prickled with anticipation.
    "What happens in my line of work as in yours is that cases come and go. Some are solved, some are filed. Some go dormant, though they never quite leave your mind." He sampled the Scotch and clearly approved. "Every now and then something triggers you, something goes off in your brain, and you think: "I've seen this before." or "Didn't I hear somebody talking about something like this?" or "I know this is familiar to me." You know what I'm talking about. It happens to all of us."
    Boldt nodded. He felt impatient and