Free The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) by Susan Wingate Page A

wasn’t easy to see her this way.
    The smell of diesel floated in. It hung on the trail of a garbage truck that drove into the parking lot near the dumpster. It seemed late in the day to be picking up garbage. He looked down the walkway where an old man walked his wheelchair with his feet in front as he sat. He looked like a decrepit toddler in some oversized stroller. He smiled a toothless closed grin that sunk into his face. Geoff tipped his head up in recognition.
    “Hello young fella.”
    “Good evening, sir.”
    “Cool tonight.”
    “Yep.” He rubbed his arms across his body using both hands. “Better go in. Night.”
    “Night.” The man rolled slowly off past Belle’s window making his way on his usual route around the building and most likely back to his room.
    Geoff rubbed his hands together. It was cold this afternoon. He headed back in and resolved to stay with Belle. She needed him tonight. It was too cold to be alone.

     
    CHAPTER NINETEEN
    “Mr. Jenkins isn’t in at the moment. He said he had an appointment.” The receptionist at Clive Jenkin’s office looked at Euly with an unconcerned air about her. The busy tapping of typewriters behind her filtered through the room and gave a hurried pace to the small card company’s office.
    “Shoot. I’m in town for only a few days and I need to speak with him.” She paused to see if the overly made-up buxom young red-head would respond. When she only looked with a blank stare back, Euly continued. “Do you know when he might be back?” Euly tried to smile but it felt forced.
    “No. Maybe you can check back around two.” She sat with slumped shoulders. Her low-cut tight jersey top revealed the girl’s smashed cleavage.
    They looked like oversized water balloons and were ready to pop. Euly wondered about her IQ.
    “Okay, here.” Fumbling in her purse she pulled out a card and handed to the receptionist. “Can you give this to Mr. Jenkins, Clive? It’s my business card. It’s rather important.” She hoped the girl would see how much she needed to speak with Clive.
    “You can call, you know.”
    The girl’s comment stopped Euly in her tracks. She felt a surge of heat rise up and into her face but she caught herself when she sensed her body press forward. She wanted to reach out and grab the girl’s blouse, twist it hard and get eye-to- eye with her but, instead, she said, “Okay. Thanks.
    I’ll check back later.” When she turned to leave, Euly rolled her eyes and pushed out though the door.
    “Yes. I came by earlier looking for Mr. Jenkins.” Euly’s voice trailed off into the phone and she paused expecting more disappointment but this time when she got legitimate helpful information she was happily caught off guard. “Oh! Oh, well, great. Where is that again?” Euly scratched the address onto a scrap of paper the hotel provided for its guests. “Great. Thank you.” She looked at the address again and the name of the establishment where she could find Clive. It was Benny’s.
    She closed the door of the rented car. Euly could make out a faint trail of cigar smoke seeping out the seams of Benny’s. Spotty gravel that covered the bar’s parking lot crushed under Euly’s boots. She walked forward on her toes to avoid abrading the leather heels. Between the concrete doorstep and the gravel weeds grew up in dry yellow clumps. There were cigarette butts and wrapping papers strewn about outside of the door. A concrete pad showed the shape of an etched-in fan on it from years of sustained use. The name of the bar was hand painted on its iodine metal door in black marker. Nothing looked different. Low on the heavy metal door was a dent. Directly next to the dent on the block outside were new bricks where old ones had been replaced. Two high windows in the front were painted out in light yellow which gave an eerie strobe-like effect on the inside. Euly yanked at the door and when it opened it scraped hard against the pad adding another