Page 72 of Dick

My buzzing phone startled me.

A number I didn’t recognize.

I answered. “This is Dick.”

“Mr. Wiltshire?”

“Yes.”

“This is Supervisory Officer Willis with TSA. We have a leopard you’re going to need to pick up.”

Oh shit.

“It’s really a bad time for me. Can I get it tomorrow?”

“That is a negative,” he said. “The cat will be required to be picked up before 10:00 pm. Several messages have been left unanswered.”

Fuck.

“Can someone sign for it besides me?”

“As long as they have I.D.”

“I’ll have someone pick it up.”

“The animal will be at the United baggage check. You should be able to park in the unloading lane and come in through the turnstile.”

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Thank you, Sir, and have a nice night.”

I hung up. The last thing I needed was to have a fucking leopard in the car.

I scrolled through my contacts, stopped at Seton, and pressed the call button.

“Hello? Everything a go?”

“I need you to stop really quick on your way.”

“Really quick? I’m on my way now.”

“It’ll be ten minutes out of your way. Stop at the airport, park at the terminal’s unloading lane for United, and go to baggage check. There’s a leopard in my name.

“A leopard?”

“Yeah, a cat.”

“You’re having me pick up a leopard? Now?”

“God damn it, Seton. I’m not going to fucking argue with you. Get the cat and hurry the fuck up. Don’t make me…” I pulled the phone from my ear and glared at it. “Just get the fucking cat.”

Frustrated about it all, I hung up.

Aggravated, I surveyed the street, the supper club, and the surrounding area. At 9:25, what I was sure was an unmarked police car parked half a block behind me. Two idiots sat in the car smoking cigarettes and talking.

Typical cops doing a half-assed surveillance job.

I checked my pistol, assured myself it was loaded and ready, and shifted my eyes from the rearview mirror to the door of the club.

It was eerie how natural it felt having Jess involved with the job. I trusted her wholly and completely, which was something had never done. My life of crime had been performed single-handedly, and I had every expectation of continuing my modus operandi for as long as I was in the business.

Now, however, I couldn’t imagine doing anything without Jess’ help. Her love of criminal suspense novels caused her to develop a keen eye and a criminal mind.

My only concern was being one hundred percent certain that she wasn’t harmed.

If anyone damaged as much as a hair on her head, I wouldn’t be in prison for counterfeit money, laundering cash, or stealing a diamond.

I’d be locked away for murder.