Private: #1 Suspect
“After that, she and Del Rio had gone looking for the car in logical places and hadn’t found it.
Now Del Rio parked the fleet car in the circular drive of a six-million-dollar, ten-thousand-square-foot Mediterranean-style house in Bel Air.
He took his gun out of the glove box, slipped it into his shoulder holster, and said, “Justine, there’s no point in getting worked up. As my old cell mate used to say, ‘If you can’t find what you’re looking for on the street, go into someone’s house and take i...t.’”
“Great. We’re taking advice from a convict.”
“And you’re taking advice from my cell mate too.”
Justine laughed. “No offense, Rick. I don’t think of you as a jailbird.”
“I’m honored. You ready to risk your life and reputation?”
“Maybe. I mean, let’s go.”
A young Hispanic housekeeper came to the door under the portico, smiled pleasantly, said, “I’m sorry. No one is home.”
Del Rio held up his badge, opened his jacket to show the woman his nine.MoreLess
Now Del Rio parked the fleet car in the circular drive of a six-million-dollar, ten-thousand-square-foot Mediterranean-style house in Bel Air.
He took his gun out of the glove box, slipped it into his shoulder holster, and said, “Justine, there’s no point in getting worked up. As my old cell mate used to say, ‘If you can’t find what you’re looking for on the street, go into someone’s house and take i...t.’”
“Great. We’re taking advice from a convict.”
“And you’re taking advice from my cell mate too.”
Justine laughed. “No offense, Rick. I don’t think of you as a jailbird.”
“I’m honored. You ready to risk your life and reputation?”
“Maybe. I mean, let’s go.”
A young Hispanic housekeeper came to the door under the portico, smiled pleasantly, said, “I’m sorry. No one is home.”
Del Rio held up his badge, opened his jacket to show the woman his nine.MoreLess
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Guest 4 years ago
This very good writer is poor on the phony teary pathos, about Colleen. And the vast majority of character names are either Irish-I can still smell incense from some holy church or other-revolting- Italian or Latino. Every books has the same characteristics. I keep smelling burning peat straight from the bog in Meath. Being from Dublin myself, we use to brn peat-we called it turf- because during thr war and for a while after, there was little or no coal. In 1944, as a kid, I took my first trip to Cork City, normally a 4 hour journey by train. This one took 10 hours, having to stop every 20-30 miles to replenish it's fuel from turf stacks alongside the tracks.Write Review:
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