Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) by M.R. Forbes Page A

could, but I have it trademarked. I'll have to put you in touch with my attorney." I forced a smile. My flirting skills were rustier than the Titanic.
    She put her haul on the counter: a loaf of bread, and a package of Twinkies.
    "Nice choice in processed snack foods," I said, shaking my own golden bars.  
    "I guess great minds think alike." She pointed behind the counter. "Can I get a pack of Camels, too?"
    That explained the laugh. I slipped away without another word. Smokers pissed me off on a personal level. I had gotten cancer, and I'd never smoked a day in my life.
    I was sitting behind the wheel, tearing open the Twinkie when she came out. She'd parked her Lexus next to my econobox, and she glanced over at me as she got behind the wheel, and then one more time when she backed out and sped away.  
    It took me two minutes to eat the snack, after which I pulled the car out and around to the side of the building. It had a service station attached to it, with the bay doors facing the rear. I looked around before I shut the engine and got out, circling to the office door. The TSA probably wouldn't have liked most of my standard equipment, and so I had left my picks back with Danelle. That didn't mean I was defenseless. A Glock had travelled with my suitcase in cargo, along with a WWII era combat knife I had picked up at Dalton's shop.  
    I turned the knob on the door. I expected it to be locked, and they didn't let me down. Picks were one thing, hairpins were another; they didn't even set off the metal detectors. I bent down and pulled it from my sock, shoved it in the lock, and had it open in about thirty-seven seconds. It was a poor performance, but this was just the warmup.  
    I moved past the air fresheners and other random car-related impulse buys, pushing open the door to the shop itself and moving inside. There were no cars in the bays, and the only light came from fluorescents bleeding in through the small windows. I walked the space, keeping my attention to the corners. I was in the back when I found what I had been hoping for.
    A rat trap, with a victim still attached.
    I knelt down and picked up the trap. The kill was still pretty fresh, the corpse in decent enough shape. I let it loose of the spring and put my hand to it. "Come on, little buddy."  
    It didn't take much energy to bring back a rat. It twitched under my fingers, and then skittered forward with a slight limp in its gait. Perfect. I dropped the connection, sending it back to its eternal sleep, and scooped it up in my hand. "You'll make a good accomplice."
    I carried the rat out to the car, put it in the glove compartment, and checked my watch. Ten in the morning. I had a little over twelve hours before my planned heist.  
    I was going to need them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Slipping a Mickey.

    Red's mansion was near the shore. It would have been on the shore, except she had about six acres of lawn in front of her house that abutted another couple of miles of beachfront. The rear was just as large, and it was the reason I needed so much time.
    Rats didn't exactly move very fast. Especially dead ones with limps.
    I parked the Ford well away from the mansion. The car would be too out of place in an affluent neighborhood, and I didn't question that it would draw the wrong kind of attention. I would have gone for something a little sportier, classier, and expensive, but the short notice had left our options slim. The end result was that I was going to have to sneak my way to the wall that surrounded the house, and then sneak myself away after I had lifted the stone. As far as I was concerned, that second part was the most dangerous of all. My plan left me seventy-one seconds to get out of the house and over the wall. That was a full sprint on my best day, and my best days were behind me.
    I hadn't survived this long without being resourceful, and I made it to the outer edge of the property unseen and thankful that the rain had faded to to a steady drizzle. I