Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) by Nick Vellis Page A

you care to step into my office?” Alan’s tone was brusk with a touch of a clipped New Jersey accent. His words stank of disdain.
    “Hey pal, nice aftershave,” I said. “Did you have to marinate in it?”
    He just looked at me.
    “No thanks on that appointment,” I replied firmly. He gave me a frown as he let go of my hand. “I came for some reports Mr. Barber promised. I have another meeting across town.”
    “Certainly, Mr. Everett, we can make arrangements for another time. I’ll get your documents.” Alan turned on his heel and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. He returned in a minute and handed me two typewritten sheets stapled together. I took them, flipped to the second page, and saw it was simple list of names and addresses.
    “Glad you didn’t knock yourself out getting this ready,” I said. “Thanks for nothing. Where’s the Sheriff’s Office report?”
    “As I told you on the telephone we have our own…”
    “Yeah, I know you have your own staff of investigators. Well, I gotta tell you I’m not impressed with your team. I spotted then inside of fifteen minutes. They need to turn in their decoder rings and go back to correspondence school.”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he replied.
    “I’m sure you do. Listen and listen good,” I growled, “you tell your investigators to stay out of my way.” I raised my voice for effect then threw the two sheets of paper in Alan’s face. The startled look on his face was worth the price of admission.
    “Mr. Everett, I assure …”
    “Save your assurances pal,” I growled. “I’ve seen your people tailing me this morning.”
    “Mr. Everett…”
    “Call ‘em off. Call ‘em off now. If I so much as think someone’s following me, I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll kill ‘em, you hear! Then I’ll come back for you.”
    I punched the air with my index finger directly in Alan’s face with each threat then fixed my eyes on his. He wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t as cock sure as he’d been a minute ago. As I turned for the elevator, I ‘accidently’ shouldered Alan. He stumbled backward against a leather love seat, moved it a foot, and fell on his ass. “I want copies of the Sheriff’s Office reports by the end of the day. Don’t forget,” I shouted.
    I picked up the two-page list and stomped out. I hit the elevator button and turned to the wide-eyed plastic doll at the reception desk, gave her a wink and a wave then said, “Have a nice day,” in my best fake southern accent.
    I caught my breath and smoothed down my hair when the elevator doors closed. I hoped my little act had the desired effect. I hit the front door at a moderate jog, tossed the valet three bucks, and was gone before Alan could call 911.
    The white Explorer followed for a few miles then disappeared. Guess he got the word. It only took me forty minutes to get out to the south side of town. Traffic headed toward Disney and Universal on I-4 normally wasn’t too bad mid morning. I took the Sand Lake Road exit and headed north on I-Drive. I spotted Tapas Fantastico tucked between a mini golf course and a tee shirt shop on the east side of the street. I knew from the location, the pastel exterior, and the weird art on the walls this was going to be expensive. The place served tapas style food, appetizer sized portions that cost the same as a full meal. What was the world coming to?
    Ashton was waiting for me just inside the door. Her painted on jeans, designer blouse and heels looked fantastic. Any good-looking woman can look hot, but rich ones do it effortlessly. Even casually dressed, she was a stunner. We went to a table in the center of the crowded restaurant. I had a club soda, Cuban sliders, and a pork belly Reuben. Ashton had duck confit quesadilla and some sangria, food for foodies, not real people.
    We chatted amiably like two old friends. We talked about what it was like to have a twin brother, and to be wealthy. She got used to the money, but