Free Glass Houses by Terri Nolan Page A

thing,” said Thom, tossing them back.
    â€œSuit yourself. I’ll punch and we’ll talk.”
    While Ron warmed his muscles with basic calisthenics, Thom took a closer look at the new tat on Ron’s chest. A blue bird over his heart.
    â€œ Sialia Mexicana ,” said Ron, “most commonly known as the Western Bluebird.”
    â€œI’m sure Bird appreciates the testament of your love.”
    â€œShe doesn’t doubt my feelings.” Ron hit the bag. “With or without the art.”
    A large photograph of Matt was attached to the bag with clear packing tape.
    â€œWhat the hell?” said Thom. “Bird wouldn’t appreciate that.”
    â€œShe’s the one who put it there,” Ron said with a sneer. He hit the face again and again.
    â€œSo it’s okay for you to disrespect his memory like that?”
    â€œLike what? Birdie comes down here and beats the shit out of him all the time.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShe’s pissed that he died.”
    â€œIt wasn’t his fault.”
    â€œHe was careless with his meds. How is that not his fault?”
    Thom caught a twitch of hate on Ron’s face while he jumped and swayed and punched.
    â€œYou know,” said Ron, “Birdie has a powerful talent of observation. I’d trust what she says about your wife.”
    Abrupt change of topic, thought Thom. Even Ron didn’t want to talk about Matt.
    â€œI don’t want to think about Anne in that way,” said Thom.
    â€œWho would? We dudes always get screwed. Even if we have all the right moves, do all the right stuff, sometimes it’s still not enough. I sure as hell can’t understand women.” Ron punched left, right, right, left. He hit Matt’s face so hard the hang chain shuddered. “Love is a bulky emotion. Relationships are easier without the entanglement.”
    â€œAnd far less satisfying.”
    Ron stopped short. He pointed a black-clad fist at Thom. “Good point.” Then he turned his attention back to the bag.
    Thom felt silly standing there watching Ron in his underwear working out an obvious frustration. Thom considered getting on the treadmill then remembered he was in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He decided it’d be too much work to put on the proper attire. Like shoes.
    â€œWhat did you think of Anne?”
    â€œYour wife is smokin’ hot.”
    â€œExactly what I need to hear. Bird said you have out-of-town resources if I want an investigator.”
    â€œOne resource. The best. Private investigation is part-time stuff and he doesn’t do domestics anymore, but he will with a referral from me.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œNoa. Big Hawaiian dude. A one-man combat force. Don’t piss him off.”
    â€œA Marine buddy?”
    â€œYep. Saved his ass many a time.”
    â€œYou trust him?”
    Ron threw a faceful of mock disdain.
    â€œHow would I reach him? You know, for a consultation.”
    â€œHe doesn’t do consults. He’s referral only. And he has strict rules. When you call, you’ll get a recording that says, ‘Just the facts.’ You’re going to tell him your full legal name and that you were referred by me. After that you’ll leave the following information: the reason you want to hire him, Anne’s full legal name and maiden name, birth date, driver’s license number, social security number, home address, the type of car she drives and its plate number, and the places she frequents the most. And then you’re going to give him the same information about yourself. And because you’re a cop, you also give him your badge number.”
    Ron’s breath remained slow and even despite the bag work and the detailed instructions.
    â€œYou’ll feel violated by the time you’re done,” said Ron. “After he gets all the facts, he’ll do a prelim to decide if he’ll take your case. That