He showered, shaved, and got dressed. Tan slacks. A navy blazer. White shirt. Button-down collar. No tie. He put his gun in the shoulder holster and strapped it on. He drank three cups of coffee and read the morning paper, which had an article about the mysterious slaying of a racetrack worker whose body had been found Sunday morning in a Dixie Highway motel. Rhineheart washed the cup out in the sink, went out to the Maverick, and drove down to his office. It was located on Main Street in downtown Louisville, down the block from the Kentucky Center for the Arts and the Humana Building. It was on the fifth floor of a hundred-year-old building that was being renovated floor by floor. By the time the renovators reached Rhineheart’s floor he was sure he wouldn’t be able to afford the rent. The sign on the door said MICHAEL J. RHINEHEART, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. Inside was one large square room with a twelve-foot ceiling, a scarred hardwood floor, and six tall narrow windows that overlooked the intersection of Seventh and Main.
What do You think about The Last Private Eye (2014)?
