Free BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead by Kate George

faint breathing.
    “Okay then.” I hung up the phone.
    It hadn’t rained in ages so the roads were dry. I made good time down the hill, felt the cool rush of air as I crossed the river and pulled the bike up onto its center stand on the sidewalk in front of the insurance agency. Parking would be at a premium tonight.
    The bar was already packed when I walked in. Grant stood in a circle of people near the bar, but he noticed and shot me the thumbs-up. I sent him a smile and returned the thumbs-up, searching for a place where I wouldn’t be jostled too much.
    Claire flagged me down and I joined her at a pub table in front of the window. The waitress plunked a couple of pints on the table and took our food order. There were a couple of empties, so I bussed the table to give us more room and sat down, resting my heels on the rung of the stool.
    “Glad you’re here,” Claire started but then glanced behind me and smiled.
    I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Grant standing behind me, his surfer hair curling up from his head like a slightly younger, curly-haired Channing Tatum. He still had the thin wiry body of a young athlete with none of the bulk men sometimes develop as they mature. He was probably five or six years behind me in school, so I didn’t know him well. But everyone in town knew of him. He was like the Law School, one of our claims to fame.
    “Doing all right, ladies?” he asked. “Drink as much as you like, it all on me tonight – and it doesn’t have to be beer. If you’d rather a mixed drink, go for it. Let me know if any of these yahoos bother you, I’ll take care of it. Can’t have the hometown girls getting hassled.”
    Having done his social duty Grant melted back into the crowd. Claire and I called our thanks after him, and Claire sighed.
    “When did we get too old for guys like that?” she asked as we watched Grant sling his arm around a woman barely out of high school. But then he slung his other arm around a woman almost old enough to be my mother and planted a kiss on her.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe were not too old. He’s an equal-opportunity… what’s the word? I don’t want to say womanizer . I don’t think it’s that.”
    “Flirt?” Claire asked.
    “Yeah, an equal-opportunity flirt.” Whatever we labeled him, he was lifting the atmosphere in the bar. Even I was relaxed and having a good time until a hand dropped on the back of my neck and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
    “Hambecker,” I said when I looked to see who had disturbed my bliss. “I didn’t know you hung out with the locals.”
    “Occasionally. I saw your bike outside. You’re not drinking and riding.” It wasn’t a question, but I could tell he was puzzled.
    “One beer,” I motioned to my glass, “and soda. You can stop worrying.”
    “I wasn’t worried. Just surprised.” He snagged a stool from the next table and sat down with us. “What’s the occasion? This place isn’t usually packed like this.”
    “Grant Fraser, that’s him over there. The guy with his arm around the dark haired girl.” I said.
    “The surfer dude,” Claire added.
    “The tall guy,” Hambecker said.
    “Yeah, the tall guy. He’s a Formula 1 racer. Grew up here. Whenever he wins big he flies back to town and it’s free drinks and racing stories until the bar closes. See, he’s telling one now.”
    Grant’s free hand was driving an imaginary car, while his mouth was going a mile a minute. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it had to be good because the crowd around him roared. He grinned, released the brunette and took a swig from a glass on the bar. I’d watched the bartender pour it. He was drinking soda water.
    “You want to meet him? I’ll introduce you,” I said.
    Grant was charming. He looked slightly taken aback at Hambecker’s bulk, but he rallied. “Bree, got yourself a body guard?” He stuck out his hand and the ensuing handshake was some moronic male test of