The Red Hot Fix Read Free Page B

stay together until our children are safe.”
    The room erupted in applause and Charlotte inched her way down the aisle. Mort was impressed at the time she gave each person lined up to meet her. Handshakes and hugs. Speaking and listening. He was pleased when Nancy pulled her away, whispered in her ear, and pointed in his direction.
    “So the police are here, are they?” Her eyes were very blue. Mort liked that she wore little makeup. “Come to announce a citywide crackdown? I’m Charlotte Conklin.”
    Mort admired her handshake. Firm and sure. “Mort Grant, Seattle Homicide.” He nodded toward Nancy. “Your friend thought I could learn something from you.”
    Charlotte’s smile was replaced by a furrowed brow. “Trixie, no doubt. How can we help?”
    Mort shrugged. “Like I said, I’m homicide. What I know about prostitution you could put in your eye and not even feel. My guys in Vice can tell me all I need to know about busting a prostitute, but nothing about who they are. You’ve read the articles. It’s no secret who we’re looking for. I figure your group’s a good place to get to know my killer.”
    She locked eyes with him and Mort’s balance shivered.
    “If we stay here, we won’t be able to talk for several hours,” she told him. “Parents with lost children like to linger with kindred wounded.”
    Mort looked over her shoulder and saw dozens of people waiting. He turned to Nancy. “Can you make our excuses, please? Blame it on the cops.”

    Twenty minutes later Mort threw a wave to Mauser, who tended a cozy neighborhood bar filledwith cribbage-dealing, Scrabble-playing white collars. He escorted Charlotte to a booth in the corner. A large African American man with tight gray curls looked up from his crossword puzzle with a double take.
    Mort shrugged off his suit coat. “Charlotte Conklin, I’d like you to meet—”
    “Oh, my,” she interrupted. “You’re L. Jackson Clark.” Charlotte turned to Mort. “You didn’t say.” She turned back to the baffled black man staring quizzically at Mort. “I just finished reading
The Prophet Next Door
. Brilliant. I thought nothing would top your
Listen to It All
, but this one did.”
    Larry shook the woman’s hand as he struggled to stand in the booth.
    “Sit, sit,” Charlotte urged. “Mort, you didn’t say.”
    “No, Mort.” Larry raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t.”
    “Let’s all relax.” He stepped aside so Charlotte could enter the booth, then slid in beside her. “I didn’t know she was a fan. Hell, I didn’t think anyone except students read your stuff, Larry. And that’s only because you make ’em.”
    Charlotte looked puzzled. “He’s on the
New York Times
bestseller list year after year.” She smiled at the man seated across from her. “Your books have given me comfort and hope during some very difficult times. I hope you know how cherished you are by millions.”
    Larry bowed his head. “Kind words, indeed.” He pushed his crossword puzzle aside. “Now tell me what such a lovely woman is doing with Officer Dunderhead.”
    “She’s teaching me about hookers.” Mort sensed her flinch at his flippant comment. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. It normally takes me several hours to reveal my coarser side.” Her eyes relaxed and Mort turned back to his friend. “Charlotte is the founder of an organization that connects people whose kids work as prostitutes.”
    “Are you talking about CLIP?” Larry asked. “I’ve met people from your group. Fine work you’re doing.”
    Charlotte lowered her glance and Mort felt a tug in the middle of his chest. He coughed it clear and signaled for the waitress.
    “High praise from you, Dr. Clark,” she said.
    “I’m Larry to my friends. Is this about the Trixie mess?”
    A young redhead in jeans and a tank top came to their table. Mort ordered Guinness for himself and Larry. Charlotte asked the waitress to make it three and Mort’s chest tugged again. He rolled his shoulders