The Throwbacks Read Online Free Page B

found in an alley behind a restaurant on Newbury Street.”
    “How long had he been missing?”
    “About thirty minutes. He got up from the wedding rehearsal dinner, presumably to go to the john. It’s a big affair with the families and wedding party. He was gone a while, and the mayor was due to leave so he could get to our party, so Rick, the deceased’s brother, went looking for him and checked out back.”
    “Hmmmm.” This was the tough part. The more he got to know about the dead person, the more difficult it was to be detached. It was time he disengaged himself and put on his mental suit of armor.
    “That’s it? ‘Hmmm.’ That’s all you got? Coming from the flipping Scotland Yard Flying Squad? Hmmm? Geez,” Dan joked.
    David knew it was the man’s nerves. “Would you like a cigar?” David asked and lit one up for himself. Dan nodded, so he prepared a second and handed it to him. “I generally do my best work after I take a look at the scene, read the files worked up by the detectives, evaluate the evidence, etc.” He puffed. He knew his friend well. Ever since their boyhood days running amok in the north end of Boston, he’d had the same tendency to joke to relieve his anxiety. It never worked. Dan was too tense to be really amused. On the other hand, David had no trouble feeling amused. One couldn’t lighten up a murder investigation too much for his preference.
    They took another sharp turn into a quick stop in front of a boutique-style restaurant on Newbury Street—Dan was in Dick Tracy mode now and loved to show off. There was no yellow tape and no blue-and-whites, but neon flashes of the trendy restaurant lights exposed about thirty people forming a chic crowd outside the place.
    “Time for the show.” Dick Tracy opened his door and half his oversized frame was out of the car when his phone rang. “Shit.”
    “I’ll go on without you.” David looked around to make sure there was no press. Luckily the coast was still clear. “Looks like the mayor’s been successful at keeping a lid on things so far.”
    “Yeah. I told him I’d handle it myself with a handpicked crew—you included. I’ll be along in a second.”

    “It was a very important murder,” Sophia-the-Pixie said. “He had no choice about leaving.”
    They stood on the cobblestone sidewalk under an old-fashioned brass street lamp in front of Mabel’s townhouse, waiting for their cab. Grace sighed. She loved the feel of Beacon Hill. It was as if two centuries of history seeped inside her from the air. The sense of place infused her with all the brick-and-mortar sturdiness that held up all these years, like the stalwart families who lived here. Every time she came to Mabel’s home, she fantasized about what it must have been like growing up in a family like hers with a genuine family tree. Someday she’d have a family and start her own tree. She sighed again and looked at Sophia, who gazed up at her with expectant eyes.
    “You don’t need to console me. He’ll call,” she said.
    “He’s a tad old for you, don’t you think?”
    Now that was more like the Sophia she knew and loved, pretending to be more cynical than concerned. She chose to treat the question rhetorically.
    “So what’s with this interest in Mr. Distinguished? Weren’t you dating someone last week?” Sophia asked.
    “Yes, but no more. Although he was a darling little man,” Grace said wistfully. She didn’t mean to sound wistful, because how could she? The last guy she dated wasn’t for her. None of them had been. Except maybe Oscar.
    “Oh!” she said out loud. “I know why he fascinates me.”
    “I thought you said you ditched him?” Sophia said.
    “How could I when I haven’t dated him yet?” Grace said back.
    Sophia blew out a breath. “No, I meant the guy from last week.”
    “Oh. No. I gave him to Charlene. They were both into glass blowing, so I…”
    “Grace, focus.” Sophia had her hands on her hips now.
    She held in her