The Demon Pool Read Online Free Page B

sometimes left Linda pissed when the attention came from the wrong
women. The younger, pretty ones.
    He pulled his Charger into the Colony House Hotel
and Country Club’s parking lot. Luxury vehicles and the odd limousine packed
the main parking area. He drove slow, guided by lot attendants in bright safety
vests holding flags. They guided the Charger past the backed up valet and main
parking area to a remote section, farthest from the main entrance, reserved for
state and local government vehicles. Even the remote lot looked packed.
    As he drove, Jim watched Florida’s high-tech
glitterati arrive for their version of the Oscars. Every important state and
local politician and business leader would be here tonight. Jim had scored a
small share of the new prosperity, assigned to supplement the executive
security detail for the governor and his staff.
    The Florida Department of Law Enforcement,
responsible for the governor’s security, had found themselves shorthanded
again. Many Florida cops, both local and state, pulled double duty as military
reservists, spending days, weeks, and sometimes months away. When you added
vacations and sick leave, things could get thin, even around the governor. With
his relationship with Linda unraveling, Jim welcomed the distraction of work
and the extra pay. As long as no one showed up to screw it up. As a model,
Linda sometimes ran with the high-end crowd. Crap, I hope she’s not here
tonight.
    He parked, grabbed his hat, and stepped out of
the Charger. His knee barked at him again. He locked the car and made his way
toward the front of the hotel, walking past the expensive automobiles of the
nouveau technorati. The evidence of Florida’s technology boom spread itself all
over the Colony House parking lot tonight, as well as on Florida’s highways
where the Acuras, Lexuses, and BMWs of young, high-tech executives were slowly
outnumbering the Cadillacs and Buicks of the retirees.
    Ignoring the ache in his knee, Jim continued
toward the hotel’s main entrance, dodging incoming vehicles and weaving past
small throngs of well-heeled guests. He did not envy the men in three-piece
suits and tuxedos this evening. Just the walk through the parking lot had him
sweating, threatening to melt his uniform’s sharp creases. Wearing the black
dress jacket was the price he’d paid for tonight’s overtime.
    Jim paused and pulled a handkerchief from his
back pocket. He blotted the sweat from his face. He stood still for a moment,
looking at the Colony House’s new tower. It loomed behind the original
building. He admired the modern structure’s gleaming, retro design. It looked
old and new at the same time. His mind wondered for a moment as he made a
mental comparison between the Colony House and the tiny house outside of Ft.
Myers he and Linda had bought together. No comparison really.
    “We should have a house of our own,” she had
said. So he made a leap of faith. So much for faith .
    He put the handkerchief back in his pocket and
stepped up the pace, wanting to get inside before his uniform wilted completely
and left him looking like Joe Shit, the Rag Man. The FHP uniform was not Marine
Corps Dress Blues, but it looked damn good anyway.
    He had almost reached the portico when he saw a
silver Corvette pull up. He recognized the car. Apparently, so did many others.
In just seconds, the crowd around the entrance doubled in size. Jefferson
Briggs had arrived. Let the party begin .
    ***
    Briggs pulled his Corvette into the portico of The
Colony House Hotel and Country Club in Naples. The Colony House had a storied
reputation as one of Southwest Florida’s most exclusive properties. Briggs knew
that it had been the temporary home of Thomas Edison while he built his winter
residence in Ft. Myers. It seemed appropriate that he would receive his
Technology Entrepreneur of the Year award in the same room in which Edison used
to dine.
    Briggs had had an amazing run of success, and he
intended to enjoy