Free Wolfe Watching by Joan Hohl Page A

tiny things for her first grandchild.”
    Eric laughed. “Have they set a date, Jake and—?” He broke off, then tossed a version of Cameron’s question back at him. “Does the woman have a name?”
    “Sarah Cummings,” Cameron said. “Does yours?”
    “Goodbye, bro,” Eric retorted good-naturedly. “And thanks for the info. I appreciate it.”
    “Any time,” Cameron drawled. “Keep your eyes open, your mouth shut and your guard up, brother,” he said, concluding with his usual advice.
    “Will do,” Eric replied, smiling as he cradled the receiver. There were times, many in number, when Cameron’s over-protective, eldest-son attitude was a large pain in the rump, but Eric couldn’t deny the feelings of love and caring he always felt when talking to his brother.
    Throughout the lengthy conversation, Eric had maintained his surveillance of the house across the street. As had been the scenario for a week now, not a blessed thing was going on over there.
    Doubt assailed Eric. Was he on the granddaddy of all wild-goose chases here? Had he bought a pile of bilge from his informant, like some wide-eyed innocent? Was he sitting here, getting numb in the rear, wasting his vacation on erroneous or misinterpreted information?
    Eric was not as a rule subject to doubts about how to proceed in any given situation. Nor was he given to questioning his decisions and subsequent actions, which were always based on intellectual consideration, spiced with a dash of instinct. The very fact that he was now indulging in those troubling doubts and questions caused a hollow sensation in his stomach. He didn’t enjoy the feeling. Determined to do something about it, he reached for the phone and punched in a number.
    At the other end of the connection, the phone rang once, twice, three times. Eric drummed his long fingers against the arm of his chair. The receiver at the other end was lifted on the seventh ring.
    “Hello?”
    Eric felt a stab of satisfaction at the sound of his informant’s voice.
    “Could you use a few extra this week?” Eric asked without preamble, knowing the man had a weakness for the ponies and could always use a few extra bucks.
    “Yes,” the man replied, then went silent, waiting for instructions.
    “The intersection nearest to your office building, tomorrow morning,” Eric said, then immediately hung up.
    Due to the weather conditions, darkness had fallen early. Eric didn’t turn on a light, but continued to sit in the darkened room, ruminating while he watched.
    His informant hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to a meeting, indicating to Eric that either the man was convinced of the validity of his information or his informant was playing games, entertaining himself at Eric’s expense. For the informant’s sake, and continued good health, Eric sincerely hoped it was the former, not the latter.
    Deep in speculation, Eric took only casual note of a truck’s headlights illuminating the rain-slicked macadam as the vehicle moved slowly down the street. But his attention became riveted when the medium-size truck turned into the driveway of the house he was watching.
    “More company?” he muttered, leaning forward in the chair to peer through the darkness.
    The decorative wall light next to the front door flicked on, but the functional trouble lights strategically placed at the four corners of the structure remained dark.
    The door on the driver’s side of the truck opened, and a short, burly man stepped out of the cab, just as two men came out of the house. Even in the dark, Eric could identify the men as Bob Freeman and Glen Reber.
    The three men came together in the driveway, and the short man turned at once to open the back of the truck and disappear inside the dark interior.
    “Hmm...” Eric murmured.
    Freeman and Reber positioned themselves at the back of the vehicle. A few moments later, the other man appeared, maneuvering a wingback chair toward the opening.
    Curious, Eric thought, frowning. A