BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) by JANE ADAMS (best romantic books to read TXT) 📕

“I know it. Do you think they know she’s an illegal?”

Rozlyn shrugged. “I’ve yet to have the pleasure of asking,” she said. “I’d be surprised if they asked. References might have been a problem, but I’m sure Charlie would have figured something out.”

Big Frank smiled, briefly. “I thought you rated him as a useless tick,” he said.

“Oh, that’s not changed, not entirely, anyway, but now I figure him for a resourceful tick at any rate.” More than that, Rozlyn thought. She’d actually begun to engender a grudging respect for Charlie Higgins, but she thought that was one scrap of information that Big Frank could go without.

“And these . . . people this Thompson smuggled in. Where are they from?”

“Eastern Europe, we think. Clara Buranou said she was Croatian.” Not true, she thought. Rozlyn had said she was Croatian; she had simply not denied it. “Frank, there are people on the move everywhere, could be that Thompson varies his cargo.” She remembered the little radio with the Chinese writing Mouse had told her about. “The two houses we know about, we’ve got under surveillance, but that’s about the sum of it, I’m afraid.”

Frank Parker took another large swallow of his pint. Rozlyn watched with interest. It was now a good two thirds down and she figured she had until Frank finished before her interview terminated. Frank lowered his glass and snapped his fingers. As if by magic a folded sheet of paper appeared in his hand. He held it thoughtfully, gazing at Rozlyn as though trying to figure something out. It was not a comfortable expression to be on the receiving end of.

“You know where to find this Thomas Thompson, do you?”

Rozlyn shook her head.

“Well, Inspector Priest, for the sake of his health, I suggest you find him before any of my people do. This bloke’s been running a scam on my patch and I’d have appreciated knowing about it a good bit sooner than I did, if you get my meaning?”

Rozlyn nodded. Oh, you’re sore because you didn’t get your cut, she thought. “Yes. I get your meaning.”

“Business,” Frank told her. He slid the paper across the table, no easy task as it was crowded with bottles and empty glasses.

Rozlyn left it where it lay, noting that the corner of it had landed in a little puddle of spilt beer and was slowly soaking it up. “What I don’t get,” she said, “is how this could be happening so close to home, so to speak, and you not know.” She looked up into Big Frank’s face, eyes wide and childlike in their innocence.

“Oh, you can be sure that’s also my concern,” Big Frank told her. “You’ll know when I’ve found out.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Big Frank drained his glass and Rozlyn took her cue. She reached for the paper and stood, careful not to crash the stool into those others packed so close around the table.

“Be seeing you,” she said, then remembered something else. “Oh, I meant to ask. You heard of someone by the name of Donovan?”

There was a perceptible shift of mood. The man sitting to the right of Frank stood up and another moved as though about to. Frank waved them down. He looked Rozlyn in the eye, leaning as far forward across the table as his bulk would allow. “Donovan is not a nice man,” he warned softly. “You leave well alone. Now, get off home.”

Brook would have pressed the point, Rozlyn thought, as she nodded and then turned away. Brook would have sat himself down again and refused to shift until he’d got whatever point Big Frank wanted to make explained in triplicate — or he’d have tried to. Rozlyn had learned early on that the way to deal with Frank was to at least appear to do so on his terms. That way, you got pretty much what you needed to know and you didn’t so much run the risk of winding up beaten or dead in some back alley.

Frank knew that, given the opportunity, Rozlyn would put him inside as soon as blink, but he also knew that Rozlyn was willing to play the game with Frank’s ball and some of Frank’s rules.

“See you, Frank,” Rozlyn said as though nothing untoward had passed between them.

Big Frank nodded and Rozlyn made her way back across the bar. As she reached the door she turned and glanced back. Big Frank was pouring the remainder of Rozlyn’s beer into his glass. Rozlyn laughed softly and let herself out. Waste not want not, I suppose, she thought. Now, what the hell was that all about? She tucked the mystery paper into the pocket of her coat and ran for her car.

Once in shelter, she reached into her pocket for paper and phone, switching on the interior light so she could read the message Big Frank had given her. The phone bleeped into life, then sounded a cheerful message to tell her she’d missed a call. She studied the number. No name attached, so no one she had in her speed dial list. Not a number she recognised either, though whoever it was seemed to have tried to reach her twice.

Figuring that if it was anything important, they’d ring back, she turned her attention to the sheet of lined paper, now stained at the corner with Big Frank’s beer.

“Addresses?” The other houses. Had to be. Mouse said he thought Thompson owned four or five properties in all and here were two more. They were across town, quite a way from Big Frank’s patch. Briefly, Rozlyn wondered where he’d got the information from; then decided she probably wouldn’t like the answer. For this operation to have been kept from the boss man for so long