woman screeched Alex’s name from a couple of tables away. Before he could turn around she’d thrown herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hey, babe. Where ya bin?”
Alex grinned at the girl, then flashed a glance at George. “Workin’, Sal.”
Sal twisted around to peer at George. “Who’s this?”
George extended his hand across the table. “Name’s George Bronsky.”
Sal let go of Alex’s neck long enough to shake hands. “Sally. Call me Sal. So you guys in town for a good time or what?”
“Just a one-nighter. I left a note on your door. We’re leaving tomorrow for Seattle.”
“Seattle! What for?”
“Business. Can you check on my dogs? I left the boat at the usual spot.”
“Sure. No sweat. When ya comin’ back?”
“Quick. Gotta get my wood in.” Alex’s mouth twisted into a sideways grin. “Wanna help?”
Sal sat up straight and peered into Alex’s eyes. “You serious?”
“Sure. I’m tired of cookin’ for myself.”
Sal tossed her long hair. “Well, I can cook, dude, but you’d be doin’ half of it.”
Alex dumped her off his lap. “What kind of arrangement is that? A man comes home after a hard day’s work and you tell him to cook his own supper? No way.”
Sal shook her head, her hands on her hips. “Guess we just wouldn’t make it then, Alex. Too bad. You’re kinda good lookin’, ya know.”
Alex smirked. Shaking his head he grinned at George. “The Yukon—where men are men—and the women are too!”
Sal slapped his arm and Alex chuckled. He looked up at her. “What’s up tonight?”
“I’m headin’ over to Melanie’s pretty quick. Heard there’s a kegger goin’ on. Why dontcha come?”
Alex glanced at George, then winked at her. “Sure. We’ll show George here some real Yukon hospitality.”
George was shaking his head. “I…uh, I still have to try and arrange your flight. Then I think I’ll call it a night.”
Alex’s smirk widened as he stood up. “Somehow I figured you’d say that.”
Chapter Three
Back at the detachment Sorensen drummed his long fingers on the open file in front of him. His large frame rocked back and forth as he leaned back in his chair. He stared at the pimply-faced teenager in the small photo clipped to the first page. Twenty-one, Sorensen thought. This perp would be 21 now. And who knows how many more young girls he’d hurt in the past five years. The inspector let his chair snap back to vertical. He turned the pages, scanning for details. “Fee, fi, fo, fum,” he mumbled. “I smell the blood of criminal scum.” He flipped back to the picture, unclipped it, and propped it up on his coffee cup. “They don’t call me the Swedish giant for nothing, Alex Donnelly. And it’s time I sniffed you out.”
* * *
George knocked on Alex’s hotel room door at 7:30 the next morning. When there was no answer he knocked louder. A scantily-clad Sal opened it. He stepped back and looked at the floor.
“Uh, sorry...is Alex up...uh...in?”
“He’s in, but he’s definitely not up.”
George knew Sal was enjoying his embarrassment. “Uh...can you tell him our flight leaves at 10:00? So we should be at the airport in less than an hour.”
“Sure.” She smirked. “I’ll get him dressed.”
George felt himself turn a deeper shade of pink and Sal laughed. “We’ll meet you in the restaurant.”
He nodded and backed away. “Yeah, okay, in a few minutes then.” He bumped into the wall, whirled around, and strode quickly down the hallway.
When they arrived at his table George tried not to show how uncomfortable he felt. When he failed he pretended not to see Alex and Sal exchange amused glances.
Alex slid into the booth. “How’s the coffee? Or do you drink milk in the morning?”
Sal giggled and slid in beside him. George ignored them.
She suddenly jumped to her feet again. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, Alex.” She leaned down and kissed him. “So I’ll see ya when you get back?”
Alex nodded. “Sure. Practise your culinary skills.”
She smirked. “I’ll think about it. You take care of yourself, okay?” She turned to George. “Nice to meet you, George.”
He nodded, but she turned away before he could say goodbye. He picked up his cup and answered Alex’s question.
“The coffee’s strong.”
“Good.” Alex picked up his menu and talked over it. “So you got me on the same plane?”
“Yes. We have a bit of a wait in Vancouver, but we get into Seattle at a decent time tonight. I’ve booked you a room and made an appointment with Kenni Adams tomorrow morning at 9:00.”
“Who?”
“The researcher who worked on your case. You’ll meet the others later.”
“It took others?”
“Three, actually. One to do the research, one to do the legal work, one to do the legwork. I’m the leg man. As I said the firm is anxious to close the file.”
“Why?”
“Stipulations in the contract.”
“What?”
“They don’t get paid ’til we’ve delivered the documents and the inheritance into your hands.”
“Ah. And how much do they get if I sign the papers?”
“I don’t know the exact amount, but you might want to prepare yourself. It did take six months to find you.”
“What if these other lawyers—”
“Lawyer. Kenni Adams is just a researcher, not a lawyer.”
“What if Kenni Adams isn’t so sure I’m the right guy?”
“I think Kenni will be convinced. All the research led to you.”
“Oh?”
“The trail took a while to follow, but Kenni says you fit the profile.”
“The
