Witness Read Free

buying.”
    She shook her head and shoved the box into the car, across the front seat. “You can’t afford it. Face it. You can barely pay the rent. You should close this office and go to work for one of those big insurance companies you contract for.”
    “No way.”
    “That’s your choice,” she admitted, “but I’ve had enough.”
    The door to the storefront next to Joe’s office opened, and two men in coveralls came out, each carrying two vinyl-covered stools.
    “Hey,” Joe said, “they’re taking the fixtures out of the diner. Maybe somebody’s remodeling it.”
    “Oh, they’re remodeling, all right,” Linda said, “but it won’t be a diner anymore. Apparently, it wasn’t profitable. Sound familiar?”
    “What’s going in there, if not a new diner?”
    She smiled as she got into the car. “A gift shop.”
    Joe swiveled his head to stare once more at the front of the shop that occupied the other half of his office building. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “No, I met the new tenants yesterday. They’re very nice ladies.”
    “Ladies? You said ladies? ”
    “That’s right. Goodbye, Joe.”
    A bleak sense of despair settled over his spirit. The workmen came out of the building again, this time lugging what Joe recognized as one of the booth seats. He’d eaten a lot of tasty cheeseburgers sitting in the back booth. Now he was going to have to walk two blocks to get a sandwich at the gourmet coffee shop or drive to one of the fast-food places clustered out near the interstate.
    “Great. Just great.” He stomped back into his office. Linda was right. He was going broke. This town barely had enough desperate people to provide clients for the Tarleton Detective Agency. But he’d toughed it out for fifteen years. He’d get another secretary.
    It would be hard to find someone at the wages he could afford to pay. Linda was right about that, too. He needed a big case, or at this point, any case if it involved a wealthy client. Maybe he should run an ad, but that cost money, and ninety-five percent of his clients came to him through word of mouth. Either a past customer or a friend at the police department recommended him.
    He sighed and looked at his watch. Almost five. He should drop by the police station. He might run into some cops getting off their shift and pick up some new leads from them.
    As he headed for the door, his sleeve caught on a screw that had partly worked its way out of the handle on his top desk drawer. The button from his cuff rolled into the shadows under his secretary’s desk. His former secretary’s desk.
    Joe looked at his flapping cuff for a moment and shook his head. Par for the course on this gloomy Thursday. He’d had a flat tire this morning, then Linda up and quit on him, the diner was being replaced by a froufrou gift shop, and now this. All right, Lord. This is one of the lousiest days I’ve had in a long time. Are You trying to tell me something? He didn’t feel like waiting for an answer, so he went out, locking the door.
    As he turned down the sidewalk, he almost bowled over two women standing outside the ex-diner. Both were looking up at the front of the building and didn’t notice him until he pulled up short.
    “Excuse me,” he muttered.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” cried the nearest woman, jumping aside. “I didn’t see you there.”
    “Sorry,” her companion echoed with a bright smile.
    Joe nodded. “No problem.” They looked alike, and details like that always caught Joe’s attention. Not twins, but they had the same straight noses and creamy skin, though one was nearing forty, he guessed, and the other was several years younger. Their rich brunette hair waved softly, though the older woman’s had the slightest sprinkle of gray. Soft brown eyes surveyed him with frank curiosity, and he realized they must be wondering why he was staring.
    “I’m sorry.” He put on his most affable tone. “I’m guessing you’re sisters.”
    The younger one