Sylvie's Cowboy Read Free Page A

years, I can’t believe you never knew. I
thought Harry would’ve told you all about it.”
    Stunned, Sylvie gulped the water from the cup
like an android. Without looking at Leslye, Sylvie handed her the
empty cup. “I guess Harry and I never really talked much,” Sylvie
said.
    Out in the parking lot, Walt was reaching to
open the door of his truck when Dan Stern wedged himself between
Walt and his goal. “Who do you think you are?” Dan sneered from six
inches away.
    “Harry’s partner, Slick Face. Who do you
think you are?” Walt responded.
    “Les and I were Harry’s partners, Dogpatch.
Real partners, in multi-million-dollar joint ventures, not some
two-bit horse farm in Podunk Holler. You’re not a business partner,
you’re a joke.”
    Without raising his voice, Walt responded,
“And you’re a brass-plated thief.”
    Dan took a good Ivy League swing at Walt, but
Walt sidestepped it and landed a solid back-alley uppercut to Dan’s
jaw. Dan went down on one knee and stayed there, wiping blood from
a split lip.
    Standing over Dan with his fists poised for
more, Walt said, “Harry never had to worry about finding my hands
in his pockets. Tell me, did Harry kill himself when he learned you
two had stole him broke, or did you blow him away because he caught
you at it?”
    “It was a gas leak,” Dan insisted, favoring
his swollen, bleeding lip. “An accident. Happens every day. You can
ask the police, the Marine Patrol, the coroner, anybody.” A new
gleam entered Dan’s eyes, and he smiled wickedly. “But you won’t.
You don’t think I murdered Harry. This,” he gestured at the two of
them, “is all a smoke screen to hide how you tried to get Harry’s
half of the ranch from Sylvie before Harry’s body was even in the
grave. Y’know, if I were going to be suspicious of anybody,
Dogpatch, I’d be suspicious of you. We both know you’re capable of
murder, don’t we?”
    Walt moved as if he wanted to kick Dan’s
perfectly capped teeth down his throat, but he decided against it.
He swung into his truck instead.
    As the truck roared out of the lot, Dan stood
and wiped his face with his Hermes handkerchief. Then he dusted the
knees of his trousers and re-entered the funeral home.

CHAPTER FOUR - THE EVICTION
    Wednesday Morning
     
    Outside the front doors of Harry Pace’s
former offices, black crepe would have to be re-hung later because
maintenance workers had removed it to install new brass lettering.
The name of the firm now read “Pace-Larrimore-Stern” instead of
merely “Pace-Larrimore.”
    Inside the firm, Les Larrimore’s secretary,
Diane, looked up from her desk at the sound of a door closing. She
recognized Dan Stern and nodded a polite greeting.
    “Go right in, sir,” the secretary told him.
“Ms. Larrimore is waiting for you.”
    Stern gave a quick knock then entered Les’s
luxurious domain and took a seat in a high-backed leather chair
that creaked as it took his weight. He propped his Ostrich-skin
boots on the edge of her desk. Les put down her pen and turned the
papers in front of her face down. If Stern took offense at this
evidence of mistrust, he gave no sign of it.
    “You’ll be glad to know the final official
reports are in,” Leslye announced. “Investigation closed. Faulty
propane valve filled the bilges with gas, something made a
spark—maybe Harry, maybe the telephone, who knows—and boom. Lucky.
You couldn’t have arranged it better if you’d tried—and I, for one,
am glad you didn’t have to try.”
    Stern gave an amused grunt.
    Les rose from her chair and made her way
around to the front of the desk, where she sat on the edge and
crossed her shapely legs. Stern handed her a cigarette and lit it
for her. It’s not a smoke-free building if the boss wants a smoke,
right?
    Putting away his gold lighter, he said only,
“Keys?”
    Les enjoyed a slow exhale of smoke toward the
ceiling. “Not so fast,” she answered. “The timetable still stands.
I’ll get her