The Hammett Hex Read Free Page A

the unpredictable and ever-present Siamese, were nowhere to be seen.
    â€œYou let
la povera raggaza
go to vacation, Vera.”
    Generally, I wouldn’t like to be thought of as the “poor girl,” but these were desperate times.
    Uncle Kev’s baby blues almost popped out. I’m sure my own eyes were hovering in midair, like a frame out of
Roger Rabbit
.
    Vera opened her mouth slowly and ominously.
    This was not a light moment.
    I said in what I hoped was an up-tempo voice, “San Francisco was Hammett’s town, Vera. He’s a legend there, part of the culture. Surely that’s where we’ll find a signed first edition of
Red Harvest
, right there in Hammett’s old neighborhood. And with the shipping on someone else’s dime. It’s settled.”
    The signora viewed with me suspicion. Probably there was little she’d have understood in that sentence.
    Vera nodded slowly. You’d almost think she was grateful for my Hail Mary pass.
    The signora spoke. “Jordan needs vacation. She saved your life, Vera. You pay Jordan, Vera. Don’t take ’vantage.”
    Vera sputtered. Keeping face had always been important to the Van Alst family, and now there was only Vera to uphold the tradition. “Fine. Suit yourself, Fiammetta.”
    The signora’s black eyes shone victoriously. Her cheeks were flushed with triumph. She smoothed her vast floral apron like a general dusting off his epaulettes. I hoped I wasn’t dreaming.
    â€œDon’t let things get behind. I won’t tolerate that. Twelve hundred, tops. Negotiate. I’ll give you cash,” Vera muttered in my general direction. That sounded like the real Vera. I took her words to mean my vacation to San Francisco was a go and I would pay the price for it on my return.
    â€œThat’s good then. I should go make arrangements.”
    â€œYou know I can’t stand chirping, Miss Bingham.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree more,” I chirped.
    The signora emerged again with the French toast, and Uncle Kev reached happily forward with his plate. The signora beamed at him like he had just cured world hunger. Vera turned back to her crossword.
    Peace and harmony fell upon our land. Except I had not the slightest idea how I was going to get that signed first edition of
Red Harvest
. But you only live once. And I’d cross that golden gate when I came to it. I was going to San Francisco.
    Only one more mountain to climb before it was time to pack.

CHAPTER TWO

    Don’t trust anyone except maybe family.
    â€”The Kelly Rules
    V ERA WAS NOT the only obstacle to a blissful vacation and not even the main one. You can quit your job, but it would be hard to quit your family. There was still Uncle Mick to contend with. Fortunately Uncle Lucky was still in New York City with Karen. At least I wasn’t outnumbered.
    â€œBut to think what he does for a living!” Uncle Mick moaned as he put the finishing touches (mustard) on fried baloney sandwiches, a specialty of the Kelly kitchen. He wiped his hands on his Kiss the Blarney Stone apron with the downward-pointing arrow. His ginger hair seemed to grow redder and his ginger eyebrows wilder.
    â€œHe’s a police officer.”
    â€œExactly, the police thing, and what does that tell you, my girl?”
    â€œIt tells me I’ll be safe with him, among other things. Oh, and he probably won’t take my wallet while I’m sleeping.”
    Change of tactic from Uncle Mick. “What kind of family sends their boys to the police?”
    â€œFirst of all, Tyler is not a boy, and second, the same kindof family whose boys become . . .” In my family we call them independent business people or entrepreneurs.
    No way was I telling Uncle Mick that Tyler “Smiley” Dekker was estranged from his parents over becoming a police officer. I didn’t have the full story, but it seemed that being a cop was too big a step down