Free Body Blows by Marc Strange Page B

make them too spicy for first-timers.” She has a wicked smile.
    I have a bite. The metabolism signals that I’ve done a wise thing. “Delicious,” I say. They are. Also muy picante . I can feel beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. “Lordy! How spicy do you make them for veterans?”
    â€œLethal,” says Mariah.
    â€œDon’t dribble on your tie,” says Rachel.
    â€œRight,” I say. “I’ve got errands to run.”
    â€œSuch as?” Gritch wants to know.
    â€œPick up the award we forgot to collect last night, and while I’m doing that I thought I might drop by the limo company and see about the mixup with our driver.”
    â€œLet the police handle it,” Rachel says.
    â€œHe hasn’t told the police,” Gritch says.
    â€œYou haven’t?” Rachel is looking at me with disapproval.
    â€œProbably some disgruntled innkeeper making a comment,” I say. “Not everyone there was a fan.”
    Rachel, Gritch, and Mariah are all looking at me with stern expressions.
    â€œOkay, all right. I probably should have mentioned.”
    â€œ Definitely should have mentioned,” Rachel says.
    â€œAnd should I find that the organizers have no reasonable explanation for why Leo’s award was trashed, I’ll hand it over to detectives Mooney and Pazzano. And should the mixup with the limo drivers turn out to have sinister implications, I’ll be certain to pass that along as well. Otherwise, I won’t complicate their investigations with inconsequentials.”
    â€œYou buying this cow-pucky?” Rachel asks Gritch.
    â€œAnkle-deep and rising,” he says. “You’ll be up to your knees by suppertime.”
    â€œAny more of those ribs?” I ask.
    â€œWill you promise to deposit your pay this month?” Mariah is insistent.
    â€œI used to run this joint,” I say. “Remember, Gritch?”
    â€œThose were the days,” he says.

chapter eight
    T he two construction men are taking their mandatory coffee break before tackling whatever job they’ve been assigned. They note my arrival with the considered interest of men with not much else to look at.
    â€œHi,” I start. “Name’s Joe Grundy. I do security at the hotel next door.” I offer a handshake to show that we’re all on the same team.
    â€œHey,” says the older one, a big man with a moustache which he obviously cares for.
    â€œHi,” says the other guy. He has a half-eaten cruller that he has to transfer to his coffee cup hand in order to shake mine. I can feel the sugar on my fingers.
    â€œCops all finished down there?”
    â€œFinally,” he says, licking his thumb. “Didn’t get the body down until ten, spent another couple hours taking measurements.”
    â€œDon’t know what they were measuring,” says the big guy. “They don’t have a tape measure stretches that high.”
    â€œI almost got run down by someone on a motorcycle who was inside here last night,” I say. “Mind if I have a quick look before you lock up?”
    â€œBetter wear this,” says the big man. He hands me his hardhat. “I’ve got about ten minutes worth of coffee left.”
    â€œEasy,” says the other guy.
    â€œAppreciate it,” I say. “Any idea how he might’ve got in?”
    â€œPeople been camping out down there. Construction company’s had to run them off more’n once.”
    â€œSomebody sawed through this chain,” says the big man. He shows me where one link has had a chunk removed and used as a hook to keep the length together. The missing piece was masked with a wrapping of black tape.
    â€œWasn’t the jumper,” says the other guy. “He got in a different way.”
    I step through the gate and start down the incline. The ramp is wide enough for massive heavy equipment and I doubt that the police learned much