Dirty Deeds Read Free Page A

maybe weighed a hundred pounds on a good day. Her mocha skin glowed with good health and her ebony hair hosted a mere peppering of white. Few, if any, would guess her true age. Louie sure hadn't and had been floored the day she discovered how old Meg was.
    More days than not Meg could be found with her silver cart on the way to the grocery store for fresh fruits and vegetables. If not the grocery store, it was Auntie's, the huge local bookstore down on the corner of Main and Washington where she'd pick up the Wall Street Journal . Or, if not on her way for books or groceries, she could be found at one of the downtown charities helping those whose lives had spiraled into homelessness and despair.
    Meg was one-of-a-kind. And there was little use in arguing with her. Louie'd tried many times before and each time she'd lost. Instead, just as she did today, Louie chastised Meg—though with a friendly smile—and then carried the cart up the flight of stairs from the ground floor, where Louie's office was located, to the second story, where Meg's one-bedroom apartment overlooked Monroe Street.
    Louie waited for Meg to unlock the apartment door before taking the cart into the kitchen. Louie loved to spend time with Meg. She was spirited and interesting with a keen eye on current events. She didn't talk much about herself and even though Louie would love to have known more about her history, she respected Meg's privacy and didn't ask personal questions.
    She was dying to know about the original paintings by artists such as Frida Kahlo and Remedios Varo that graced the small apartment walls. She hadn't recognized the names on the paintings the first time she studied them. But she was an investigator, so she'd gone home and looked on her computer. The good old internet poured forth its magic. Fascinated by the history of the two twentieth-century surrealist painters, Louie spent the better part of two hours just reading. She now knew a whole lot about Kahlo and Varo. What she didn't know was how the two originals landed on the beige walls of a Monroe Street walk-up.
    Even now as Louie looked around the familiar room with the older yet tasteful furniture, she felt comforted, the same way she did every time she went there. Still, she was very curious to know how a woman with such obvious grace and intelligence lived so simply in a small apartment in downtown Spokane. Curious minds want to know…
    Today, like most days, Louie kept her curiosity to herself. She put away Meg's small sack of groceries and helped her settle into favorite chair. Meg's eyes were closed, the lines in her face relaxed and serene. Louie tried hard to be quiet as she moved to the door. She wasn't exactly a bull in a china shop but she wasn't quite a ballerina either. She wanted to stay for a cup of tea, except duty called. Tea would have to wait for another day.
    "Thank you." Meg said, her eyes still closed.
    Louie paused and smiled. "You're very welcome. Now, you call me next time you need to go to the store, promise?"
    "I promise to think about it."
    "You're a stubborn old lady, Meg English," Louie said with a laugh.
    A smile turned up the corners of Meg's mouth, though she still didn't open her eyes. Her hands were on the arms of the chair and her fingers tapped lightly. "So I've been told at a table of kings."
    Louie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right, and I had dinner with Prince Charles last night."
    "Yes, Prince Charles, such a serious boy."
    Louie raised both eyebrows. "You know Prince Charles ?" Sure she does, just about as well as I know the president.
    Meg opened her eyes, a twinkle in the deep brown gaze, and gave her a little nod. "Know him? No, not really, but I did have dinner with him once," she said and winked. Then she settled back into the chair and closed her eyes again.
    Louie was still shaking her head when she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Table of kings indeed .
    * * * *
    "I'm gonna kill him." Paul threw the portable phone