Aimee Thurlo - Fatal Charm

“Making myself useful. I went inside to talk to the clerk, thinking he might have seen something.”

Tony transfixed her with his coldest glare. “You know absolutely nothing about questioning a witness! You may have ruined any chance we had.”

“He didn’t see anything,” Amanda protested.

“And I supposed you asked him really nicely?” he scoffed.

“Of course I did. I wanted him to help me, not call the police! Being polite doesn’t hurt,” she argued.

Tony stared at the ground, trying to control his temper. “Intimidation works better, particularly with a reluctant witness.” Though he forced his tone to remain calm, he saw the cautious look that flickered in Amanda’s eyes. Her inability to predict his reactions seemed to frighten her at times, though she tried to hide it. The problem was, he didn’t particularly like having her treat him like a wild animal, afraid of the violent nature that so many believed was part of him. “Calm down, Amanda. I know what I’m doing.”

The young man inside seemed annoyed when Tony forced him to put down the mystery novel he was reading. Unable to elicit any satisfactory answers, Tony slammed his fist down hard on the counter, picked up the novel, and tossed it across the room. The startled clerk sat up abruptly.

“Now that I’ve got your attention...” Tony purred.

“Look, man, I don’t know nothing. I’ve been reading. An entire army could have used that booth.”

Tony leaned toward him menacingly. “Try harder. From what I can tell, you have a clear view of the booth.”

The young man slid off his seat and took a step back. “Look, I’m just here to pick up some extra cash in the evenings. It’s quiet, so I use the time to read and relax. I’m not concerned with what happens outside unless it disturbs our customers.”

Amanda followed Tony as he stalked back to the pickup. “I gather you found no fingerprints?”

“They cleaned the booth until it shone,” he growled, disgusted.

Tony glanced around. After business hours, this neighborhood was like a cemetery. There were two cars parked inside a private parking area next to a government building ahead. One, a cream-colored four-door, reminded him of his first Bureau car. He smiled, recalling its habit of breaking down. Silently he wished the owner of the sedan better luck than he’d had.

“Let’s go try the front doors on that building,” he said. “They’ll probably be locked, but it’s worth checking out.” After finding the building sealed up, they walked back to the pickup. “Let’s drive around the area a bit.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Basically I’m going through the motions in case they’re watching, but who knows? We might get lucky. Keep your eyes open. Maybe we’ll find a street person who caught a glimpse of our caller. Anything.”

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