Rob Cornell - Ridley Brone 01 - Last Call Read Free Page B

the next best thing to Matt Damon himself.”
    “Shut-up.”
    “Just being honest.”
    She gave me a little “huh” through her half smile, then turned and headed down a hall.
    I followed, and we passed through the kitchen, the smell of dish soap fresh in the air, a set of pans sitting in a dry rack next to the sink.
    We cleared the kitchen, stepping into the living room. Autumn gestured around her. “My humble abode. I’d give you the tour, but it isn’t much different than any of the others on the block. Welcome to suburbia.”
    “It’s nice.”
    “Nothing like Dad’s place. Nothing like yours. A step down, but I’m okay with it.”
    I smiled, not sure what to say.
    A couch sat to my right, a widescreen TV to my left. A remote control big enough to reprogram satellite spy technology lined up with one corner of the coffee table. A cozy setting, but we lingered in the center of the room as if the furniture around us was toxic.
    “You want coffee?”
    “No,” I said. “Why don’t we… we should go over a few things.”
    I saw something change in her eyes. Her face flushed.
    A clock on the mantel ticked almost sixty times before I finally asked, “Have you gone through any of Doug’s things? Find anything unusual?”
    She shook her head. “He has an office upstairs.”
    “He keep his credit statements and stuff like that up there?”
    “Yeah. He’s pretty organized.”
    “Computer?”
    She nodded.
    “Do you want me to take a look?”
    She led me upstairs to his office, which stood across the hall from the bedroom. The bedroom door hung open. The queen-sized bed’s covers lay bunched at the foot of the bed. Creases in the sheets marked patterns made by two bodies. The smell of sleep, and maybe sex, wafted from the room.
    Autumn reached past me and pulled the door shut.
    “Sorry. Bedroom’s always a mess.”
    In the office, Autumn pointed out which drawer in the filing cabinet held Doug’s credit statements. A PC sat on a V-shaped desk fitted into a corner, the desk’s surface clean and uncluttered. All the pens and pencils sat neatly in a metallic cylinder that matched the metallic in-basket holding a few sealed envelopes. The in-basket matched the desk lamp; the lamp matched the desk.
    Pretty organized, or pretty anal?
    The PC was on, a screensaver shooting jagged color patterns across the monitor at hypersonic speeds. I sat at the desk and twitched the PC’s mouse to clear the screensaver. “You spend much time in here?”
    “This is Doug’s realm.” She pointed to the wall where a few framed articles with Doug’s by-line hung. “While technically he says he’s retired from journalism, I think this space keeps him connected to the work.”
    “Why the retirement if he misses it?”
    “He said he got sick of digging up all the bad things about people.”
    I turned the chair back to the PC and started clicking through Doug’s files, looking for word-processing documents or spreadsheets, maybe some photos. When I didn’t find anything in the obvious places, I used the PC’s search function to ferret out specific file extensions. It wasn’t what I found that bothered me, but what I didn’t find. Not a single document, spreadsheet, photo, music file, or anything else was saved on the computer besides software applications that typically came pre-installed.
    “How long has Doug had this computer?”
    “Few years,” Autumn said.
    “He mention having any problems with it, have to reformat or anything?”
    “Not to me. Why?”
    “Probably nothing,” I said.
    I ditched the computer for now, stood, and crossed to the filing cabinet. With Autumn’s help, I dug out Doug’s most recent credit card statements and brought them back to the desk. I had Autumn sit in the chair and scan the statements for anything unusual while I stood looking over her shoulder, only occasionally distracted by the scent of her hair. I almost missed the charge on a statement Autumn began to set aside.
    “Hold