Back Spin (1997) Read Online Free
Author: Harlan - Myron 04 Coben
that even if they were, Matthew had not contacted his friend since Wednesday even though his friend had supposedly vanished without waning. It happens.
Still, it was interesting.
Myron picked up Chad's phone and hit the redial button. Four rings later a taped voice came on. "You've reached Matthew. Leave a message or don't. Up to you."
Myron hung up without leaving a message (it was, after all, "up to him"). Hmm. Chad's last call was to Matthew. That could be significant. Or it could have nothing to do with anything. Either way, Myron was quickly getting nowhere.
He picked up Chad's phone and dialed his office. Esperanza answered on the second ring.
"MB SportsReps."
"lt's me." He filled her in. She listened without interrupting.
Esperanza Diaz had worked for MB SportReps since its inception. Ten years ago, when Esperanza was only _
eighteen years old, she was the Queen of Sunday Morning Cable TV. No, she wasn't on any infomercial, though her show ran opposite plenty of them, especially that one with the abdominal exerciser that bore a striking resemblance to a medieval instrument of torture; rather, Esperanza had been a professional wrestler named Little Pocahontas, the Sensual Indian Princess. With her petite, lithe figure bedecked in only a suede bikini, Esperanza had been voted s FLOW's (Fabulous Ladies Of Wrestling) most popular wrestler three years running or, as the award was officially known, the Babe You'd Most Like to Get in a Full Nelson. Despite this, Esperanza remained humble.
When he finished telling her about the kidnapping, _
Esperanza's first words were an incredulous, "Win has a mother?"
"Yep."
Pause. "There goes my spawned-from-a-satanic-egg theory."
"Ha+ha." +
"Or my hatched-in-an-experiment-gone-very-wrong theory."
"You're not helping."
"What's to help?" Esperanza replied. "I like Win, you know that. But the boy is what's the official psychiatric term again? cuckoo."
"That cuckoo saved your life once," Myron said.
"Yeah, but you remember how," she countered.
Myron did. A dark alley. Win's doctored bullets.
Brain matter tossed about like parade confetti. Classic Win. Effective but excessive. Like squashing a bug with a wrecking ball.
Esperanza broke the long silence. "Like I said before," she began softly, "cuckoo."
Myron wanted to change the subject. "Any messages?"
"About a million. Nothing that can't wait, though."
Then she asked, "Have you ever met her?"
"Who?"
"Madonna," she snapped.- "Who do you think?
Win's mother."
"Once," Myron said, remembering. More than ten years ago. He and Win had been having dinner at Merion, in fact. Win hadn't spoken to her on that occasion. But she had spoken to him. The memory made Myron cringe anew.
"Have you told Win about this yet?" she asked.
"Nope. Any advice?"
Esperanza thought a moment. ' 'Do it over the phone,' '
she said. "At a very safe distance."
Chapter 3
They got a quick break.
Myron was still sitting in the Coldrens' den with Linda when Esperanza called back. Bucky had gone back to Merion to get Jack.
"The kid's ATM card was accessed yesterday at 6: 18
P. M.," Esperanza said. "He took out $180. A First Phila- (
delphia branch on Porter Street in South Philly."
"Thanks."
Information like that was not difficult to obtain. Any
body with an account number could pretty much do it with a phone by pretending they were the account holder.
Even without one, any semi human who had ever worked in law enforcement had the contacts or the access numbers or at least the wherewithal to pay off the right person.
It didn't take much anymore, not with today's overabundance of user-friendly technology. Technology did more than depersonalize; it ripped your life wide open, gutted you, stripped away any pretense of privacy.
A few keystrokes revealed all.
"What is it?" Linda Coldren asked.
He told her.
"It doesn't necessarily mean what you think," she said. "The kidnapper could have gotten the PIN number from Chad."
"Could have,"
Still, it was interesting.
Myron picked up Chad's phone and hit the redial button. Four rings later a taped voice came on. "You've reached Matthew. Leave a message or don't. Up to you."
Myron hung up without leaving a message (it was, after all, "up to him"). Hmm. Chad's last call was to Matthew. That could be significant. Or it could have nothing to do with anything. Either way, Myron was quickly getting nowhere.
He picked up Chad's phone and dialed his office. Esperanza answered on the second ring.
"MB SportsReps."
"lt's me." He filled her in. She listened without interrupting.
Esperanza Diaz had worked for MB SportReps since its inception. Ten years ago, when Esperanza was only _
eighteen years old, she was the Queen of Sunday Morning Cable TV. No, she wasn't on any infomercial, though her show ran opposite plenty of them, especially that one with the abdominal exerciser that bore a striking resemblance to a medieval instrument of torture; rather, Esperanza had been a professional wrestler named Little Pocahontas, the Sensual Indian Princess. With her petite, lithe figure bedecked in only a suede bikini, Esperanza had been voted s FLOW's (Fabulous Ladies Of Wrestling) most popular wrestler three years running or, as the award was officially known, the Babe You'd Most Like to Get in a Full Nelson. Despite this, Esperanza remained humble.
When he finished telling her about the kidnapping, _
Esperanza's first words were an incredulous, "Win has a mother?"
"Yep."
Pause. "There goes my spawned-from-a-satanic-egg theory."
"Ha+ha." +
"Or my hatched-in-an-experiment-gone-very-wrong theory."
"You're not helping."
"What's to help?" Esperanza replied. "I like Win, you know that. But the boy is what's the official psychiatric term again? cuckoo."
"That cuckoo saved your life once," Myron said.
"Yeah, but you remember how," she countered.
Myron did. A dark alley. Win's doctored bullets.
Brain matter tossed about like parade confetti. Classic Win. Effective but excessive. Like squashing a bug with a wrecking ball.
Esperanza broke the long silence. "Like I said before," she began softly, "cuckoo."
Myron wanted to change the subject. "Any messages?"
"About a million. Nothing that can't wait, though."
Then she asked, "Have you ever met her?"
"Who?"
"Madonna," she snapped.- "Who do you think?
Win's mother."
"Once," Myron said, remembering. More than ten years ago. He and Win had been having dinner at Merion, in fact. Win hadn't spoken to her on that occasion. But she had spoken to him. The memory made Myron cringe anew.
"Have you told Win about this yet?" she asked.
"Nope. Any advice?"
Esperanza thought a moment. ' 'Do it over the phone,' '
she said. "At a very safe distance."
Chapter 3
They got a quick break.
Myron was still sitting in the Coldrens' den with Linda when Esperanza called back. Bucky had gone back to Merion to get Jack.
"The kid's ATM card was accessed yesterday at 6: 18
P. M.," Esperanza said. "He took out $180. A First Phila- (
delphia branch on Porter Street in South Philly."
"Thanks."
Information like that was not difficult to obtain. Any
body with an account number could pretty much do it with a phone by pretending they were the account holder.
Even without one, any semi human who had ever worked in law enforcement had the contacts or the access numbers or at least the wherewithal to pay off the right person.
It didn't take much anymore, not with today's overabundance of user-friendly technology. Technology did more than depersonalize; it ripped your life wide open, gutted you, stripped away any pretense of privacy.
A few keystrokes revealed all.
"What is it?" Linda Coldren asked.
He told her.
"It doesn't necessarily mean what you think," she said. "The kidnapper could have gotten the PIN number from Chad."
"Could have,"
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