Sheepdogs: Keeping the Wolves at Bay by Gordon Carroll (good books to read for beginners TXT) 📕

crease. I did the same to all the seats. I checked the bar; the TV’s, the phone, the ashtrays. Nothing. Clean as a whistle. Except for the parking slip I’d seen, but been unable to make out that first day. I went to the dashboard and there it was, pushed low into the corner to the far left, on the inside of the windshield. I stepped out of the limo, holding the ticket.

“What’s that?”

“A parking pass for the Micro Corp building.”

“You’re not really here about the windshield, are you?” asked Kendra.

“No. I’m a private investigator.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I showed her my license.

“Do you have a gun?

“I sure do,” I said. “Just like in the movies.”

Her eyes got big and her smile even bigger. She covered her mouth with both hands. “Wow that is the kewlest.” She eyed me over. “You’re pretty big. Do you work out a lot? I think it’s neat when older guys try to stay in shape.”

Older? Did she just call me older?

She continued without pause. “What are you really looking for?”

“The men that rented this car the day before yesterday might be involved in a homicide.”

“They killed someone?”

“I think so, but I need to find out who rented the limo to be sure.”

She smacked me lightly on the arm. “Why didn’t you say so? I would have told you if I’d known that.” She strode back out of the garage and to her desk. I followed. Kendra slid and clicked her mouse. “Here it is.” She clicked and double clicked, then clicked again. A laser printer spit out a sheet of paper before I could ask her for the results. She handed me the page. “A Jay Horack paid for the car with cash.”

“Don’t you require a credit card deposit until you get the car back?” I asked.

“We sure do.” She went back to typing and clicking. He used a Visa, but it’s a company card.”

I looked over the sheet and saw Horack’s name, address and phone number. No mention of the company. “Can you find out who he works for?”

She slid and clicked like an ancient sorceress weaving a spell. “It’s an executive card for a company called Game’s End.”

“What’s their address?”

“Oh, they’re just a couple of miles away on Douglass and Juniper. I buy games there some times. They’ve got good prices.”

“What kind of games?”

“All kinds,” she said. “ Anthem, World of Warcraft, PUBG, Guitar Hero, Halo whatever version it is, Exodus. You name it they have it. I bought one of the used Tomb Raider games from there years ago. My mom and I used to be killers on Tomb Raider; you ever play?”

I smiled. “No, I liked the movie, though.”

She grinned slyly. “You mean you liked Angelina Jolie, huh? You dirty old men are all alike. Just joking,” she added, scrunching her face just like Sally Field used to do in the Gidget movies. “Anyway, they have pretty good deals most of the time. You still have to be careful though. Price shopping is always a good idea.”

“Game’s End. Can I get the address?”

“Sure.” She printed it out for me. “Of course I don’t do much Raider anymore. Now I’m mostly into Venus Rising . It’s wicked nasty. I mean seriously. Zalina’s no Laura Croft, but she’s still wicked nasty.”

“Is that… good?” I asked.

She laughed. “Duh, of course. You old guys are funny.” She tapped the paper she’d given me. “So, you think they off’d somebody in our limo? Should I call my boss?”

“No, not in the limo. And I’d rather you didn’t tell your boss just yet. For now, let’s keep this our little secret, okay?”

“Secret, that’s kewl.” She pantomimed zipping her lips, locking them and throwing away the key. Sally Field all the way.

I liked this girl — I really really liked her.

I stopped at a park and let Max out to take a break. A pretty young woman in shorts, a tank top, high-end running shoes and ear-buds jogged toward us with a cute little toy poodle on a pink leash. I looked over and saw Max locked in a death stare with the fancily bobbed poodle. Before I could shout a warning the poodle snapped forward, pulling the dainty leash out of the running girl’s hand. The dog ran full on at Max, barking at the top of its little lungs.

Forcing myself not to turn away from the horror I was about to witness, I yelled for Max to platz as I sprinted toward them. I knew I was too late.

The poodle jumped at Max’s face, still barking. Max reached up with one paw and shoved the smaller animal into the grass, face first. Then Max lay down on top of it and looked at me as if to say, what, you think I’d pick on a shrimp like this?

I reached under Max, clamped my hand over the poodle’s mouth and pulled it free. The young woman with the ear-buds ran up to me, screaming that my dog murdered her baby. I handed the dog to her, telling her it was fine. She yanked the poodle away but not before it was able to sink its teeth into the heel of my hand. I yelped. Max rolled his eyes again. The woman and her dog stormed off.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t hurt that dog,” I said pointing a finger at Max. He yawned and started licking himself.

Game’s End was a medium sized store with just about every type of game imaginable. There were board games, lawn games, drinking games, party games, but most of all there were electronic games for systems and computers. Microsoft Xbox One X, Sony PlayStation 4, Micro Corp Laser Glove, Nintendo Wii, Macintosh, IBM, HP Blackbird, Blizzard, and on and on and on. There was even a section filled with full sized arcade and pinball games.

Over there I found video poker, black jack, Keno and real slot machines that paid out. I went to the counter and saw brochures for tours