Free Too Much Stuff by Don Bruns Page B

fake company. To throw people off the scent. Right?”
    “I did.”
    “So these guys, Weezle and Markim, take it one step further. They have fake IDs made up. They don’t want people to know that they are private investigators, right? And one of the fake IDs is for a Peter Stiffle.”
    “No.”
    “Dude, we both recognized the body from the online Yellow Page ad. It was one of the private detectives. You know it, I know it.”
    “We only saw an Internet picture, Skip. We could be wrong.” He stared out at the water. “Okay, the dead guy wasprobably Weezle. And somebody just made a mistake in the identification process.”
    “That’s what I’m thinking. And the cops will run finger-prints and eventually figure out the same thing.”
    “Skip, I really want to follow this through. I think it’s all a bluff. But what happens if someone really wants us dead?”
    “It’s happened before, James. There are now three of us.”
    “Count Mrs. T. in there, and there are four of us who don’t know anything about what’s going on.”
    I couldn’t believe that I was the one who was stoking the fire.
    “James, I read the letter. I’m a little concerned. But, dude, we’ve never had a better opportunity. There’s a lot of money at stake. If you’re on board, let’s find this gold. Okay?”
    “We could up the ante.” He took a long swallow of beer and peered off into the dark night.
    I had no idea where he was going with that.
    “Our lives have been threatened,” he said.
    “And?”
    “We’re worth more now, right? When your life is on the line, you are worth more than when it’s not.”
    “I suppose.” In a very strange way, it all made sense.
    “So we want a share. Five percent of the gold.”
    “That’s over two million dollars, James. You can’t ask for—”
    “She’s getting over thirty, pard.”
    She was. Getting thirty-three million dollars.
    We went back to the bar and found Em and Amy in a deep conversation.
    “I’ve got plans tonight, Skip. I sincerely hope those two aren’t going to suggest we hang out for the rest of the evening.”
    “No way.”
    Em smiled and beer in hand, she walked me to the exit.
    “We’ve got a three a.m. meeting at some vacant property. We’d better catch some sleep before we start our adventure.”
    She gave me a very seductive smile.
    And I knew she had no intention of sleeping.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
    At two thirty I heard the knock at my door. To be honest, we’d drifted off an hour ago. You can only be intimate for so long—or maybe it was just the two of us.
    “Skip, you guys ready?”
    “Give us ten minutes.”
    Watching her cute bare butt as she walked to the bathroom, I listened to her.
    “You know Amy is married?”
    “Amy?”
    “James’s newfound flame.”
    “She told you that?”
    “Married. Then she met some other guy three years ago at a funeral. This guy is married too. Anyway, they hit it off, and they’ve been seeing each other four or five times a year at romantic locations like this.”
    “This guy wasn’t her husband?”
    She called from the bathroom, the water running.
    “No. The guy she’s been seeing left for his home yesterday and she was taking an extra two days to unwind.”
    “Unwind?”
    “This boyfriend, her lover, wears her out. She said the sex was intense. Boring with the husband but intense with the lover.”
    “So she has intense sex with this longtime lover, he wears her out, then she picks up James and tonight they are—”
    “We don’t know yet, do we?”
    “James seems to—”
    “He’s that kind of guy, Skip. He can have about whatever he wants.”
    I couldn’t bring myself to ask the next question. Em didn’t even like James. They had a history of animosity. And yet she was saying that—
    “Everything?”
    “It certainly seems that way.” She was quiet for a moment then she turned the water off.
    “Everything except me.”
    “Thank you.”
    Em walked out of the bathroom, and nudity aside, I