Dead Wood - By Dani Amore Page 0,54

time with her little brother. She couldn’t get enough of me. Who was I to deny her of this intense joy created by my presence?

I walked into her office and she let out an audible groan.

“Christ, you spend more time here than I do,” she said.

I filled her in on what I’d found out about Shannon Sparrow, her early marriage and the later exploits of said hubby. I said, “Let’s dig up a photo of Mr. Laurence Grasso and see if he’s the guy I think he is.”

“Have Becky hook you up,” she said.

I went back out to the lobby and found the department’s resident computer guru. Becky Kensington was a bleached blonde, solidly built woman in her late forties. She had something like eight or nine kids but I never knew her to look tired or frazzled. I only have two kids and there are days where I’m looking for a noose and a strong ceiling beam.

“Chief What’s Her Name wants a file on this guy, Becky,” I said, handing her the sheet of info I had on Mr. Grasso.

“So how you been John?” she said as she took the sheet of paper and led me back to the department’s tech center.

“Keepin’ busy,” I said. “You?”

“All those kids in school, all I see are upper respiratory viruses, colds, sinus infections and the occasional strep throat,” she said. “Our house is a petri dish with a leaky roof.”

“Cupboards full of amoxicillin?”

She nodded as she typed.

I watched the screen, anxious, then sensed movement behind me and saw Ellen watching too.

“Turn around,” she said, cuffing me not so gently on the back of the head. I was never fast enough to duck those.

Becky laughed and I said, “That’s a quick glimpse of my entire childhood.”

“The childhood that never ended,” Ellen said. We would have kept going but the computer screen blossomed into a black-and-white mug shot of Mr. Laurence Grasso. He was a sandy haired, slightly buck-toothed guy with high cheekbones and eyes that looked bored but that would clearly entertain ideas of violence. I compared it to the face I had seen behind the wheel of the black Nova.

“Fuckin-A,” I said.

“Spit it out,” Ellen said.

“Hello Randy.”

• • •

Of course, we had no fixed address for Mr. Grasso. I suppose his nickname growing up was Asshole Grasso, which considering my experiences with him, would have been entirely appropriate. Anyway, his last place of residence was vacated. There were no known family members in the area.

The initial search was best left in the hands of the capable police, namely my sister, and her counterparts at the St. Clair Shores police department who were leading the Nevada Hornsby investigation.

They would use all their resources to find Grasso and they would be able to do it faster than I could. On the other hand, if they didn’t have luck right away, I would have to see what I could do.

Thirty-two

I am by no means a cyber sleuth. I do use the Internet for business, but mostly just e-mail. Lots of e-mail. I scrolled through my mailbox and saw one e-mail whose subject line asked me if I wanted to see hot, horny housewives in action. I deleted it without opening it.

I cursed myself once again for ordering a sexy outfit for Anna from an adult catalogue because now I was on their e-mail list. Their latest offering was a product called the Fleshlight. It was a masturbatory device for men that looked like a flashlight, but one end was actually…well, you get the idea. Clever, but no thanks.

There were several messages on my answering machine from potential customers. I returned their calls, left two messages and on the third call I set up a meeting to talk to a woman who had some “concerns” about her husband. This usually meant she was concerned that his knockwurst was making the rounds. And, usually, it was the right call.

That done, I put my feet up on the desk and clasped my hands behind my head. No word from my sister yet, so I let my mind wander to thoughts of Shannon Sparrow’s ex-husband Laurence Grasso. Probably Larry to his friends, though I doubted he had any.

So ol’ Mr. Grasso had found the beautiful, young, talented, driven Shannon Sparrow, seduced her, probably controlled her, then married her. Once she got a little older and a lot smarter, she dumped his genetically shortchanged ass. Free from the steadying influence of someone with half a brain, Larry was free to