Riders on the Storm
- Автор: Горман Эд
- Серия: Sam McCain #10
- Год: 2014
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus
- ISBN: 978-1-60598-625-8
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «Riders on the Storm». Краткое содержание книги:
“I’d better go now, Sam. Randall and I need to go home. Doctor Rattigan gave Will a heavy-duty sleeping pill.”
“I hope someday Will’ll be able to realize all you’ve done for him, Lindsey.”
“How about you, Sam? Look what you’re doing for him.”
“Right now that feels like very little.”
“All we can do is keep working, hoping.”
We said our good-nights.
Mary, who was standing over me, watched me replace the receiver and then handed me a cold bottle of Hamm’s. “So Will is talking?”
“Not making a lot of sense sometimes. And when he made a little bit of sense he implicated himself in Donovan’s killing.” The beer was magical elixir. I put the chilled bottle next to my forehead. I flashed on the military hospital, the headaches. If the mystical power of the icy glass against my head couldn’t stave one off, what could?
“Feel like messing around?”
“I hate to say it, but I’m wasted.”
She took my hand. “That’s fine, Sam. You’re not my gigolo.”
The image was so comic my groin responded faintly. “Well, for now let’s say that my last statement may be subject to revision.”
“I’m tired myself so either way is good for me. I enjoy just sitting here with you.”
I’d been involved three or four times in what I’d imagined were serious relationships but more and more I realized that this one was different. There was a comfort, an ease with Mary the other affairs had lacked. I’d always been afraid they would leave me, an anxiety that never quite disappeared. It wasn’t that I took Mary for granted — she could always leave me, too — but that I trusted her. I’d known her as a friend, even as a buddy sometimes, and as a substitute girlfriend to carry me through the worst patches with Pamela Forrest, and finally as a lover. I was just more relaxed now.
So we ended up in bed about twenty minutes later. There are numerous types of lovemaking. That night we created a new kind, exhausted sex. Short and sweet, followed with her spooning me and deep, deep sleep.
Anders had built his glass-and-wood faux manse on a hill overlooking a long stretch of meadow on the north end of town. Like a good detective, I’d brought along my binoculars so I could see if his Porsche was there. And it was.
I was parked on the gravel road that ran past his place. I knew an investigator who claimed that the only way to get through a stakeout was to jerk off. He liked to tell the story that one night he had three sessions with himself he was so bored. My stakeout was less rewarding. I thought about Gordon Niven, how he was doing. I’d lost sight of him in all the pressure of other things.
But Niven didn’t last long in my thoughts. I concentrated on Anders. The concrete driveway from his house to the road was narrow enough to play a trick on him. A trick that would rattle and piss him off enough to take me seriously. Laying the photos on him, I would at least become dangerous.
It took a while. Sunday morning is when the respectable ministers hit the radio. Their version of things is reasonable, compassionate. I rate everybody on my fantasy Snore-o-Meter. It goes from one to ten. Ten is when, in terms of radio, you not only turn it off, you spit at it. They were cruising along at about seven. I missed the weekday crew who had everything but rubbers to sell you in the name of Jesus and who wanted you to shoot your neighbors if you just happened to suspect they might be Satan disguised in a golfing outfit.
And then, thanks to my binoculars, he was walking out his door and heading to the double garage separate from the house.
Oh but wait... Who is that woman leaving his house now?
Why it’s none other than...Valerie Donovan.
So much for being careful and endangering her reputation as suffering widow.
He backed the gleaming Porsche out of the garage and then she got in.
My plan could misfire if I was late or early by even five seconds. I was in place, my foot was on the gas and I was ready. It helped that I disliked him as much as I did. I had no doubt that he’d sicced Byrnes on Gordon Niven. Damn right I was ready.
He fired down the drive three times faster than was sensible and when he saw me he started leaning on his horn. The sound perfectly captured the rage he had for some rodent who was parked horizontally across his driveway, blocking him almost entirely. The next part wasn’t pretty at all. The screech of his tires, the horn still blasting and even with the windows closed, Valerie’s screams.
For the first time I realized that he might not be able to stop. He could smash into me at a good clip and all three of us would suffer for it.
But screeching, fishtailing, still using his horn, he came to a stop about five feet from my car.
Then he was out of his car with a pistol in his hand. His face was heart-attack red and his eyes deranged.
And then I was out of my car with my dad’s forty-five in my right hand and the manila envelope in my left.
Valerie was still in the car. She was crying.
Anders and I faced off.
“You shoot me, Anders, copies of these photos get mailed by my secretary to the chief of police. He should be interested in you and Valerie having an affair.”
“For what it’s worth, I could kill you right now, you little pissant, and get away with it. You were trespassing.”
“I’m on county property, you stupid fuck.”
Valerie was out of the car. In a light blue dress, her dark hair catching the sunlight, she was more stunning than the day itself.
“Will you two dumb bastards put your guns away? Aren’t we all having enough trouble already?”
“I want to kill this little piece of shit.”
“Good for you, Lon. There’ve been plenty of times I’ve wanted to kill you but I didn’t because I’m what you might call civilized. Now give me your gun.”
“You don’t know how to handle a gun.”
“I know not to pull one on somebody.” To me, “We could’ve cut you in half with Lon’s car, you dipshit. And that’s what you are, McCain. A pure and simple dipshit. I couldn’t think of the right word yesterday. But seeing you standing there with a gun and that manila envelope the right word just came to me.”
“The guy you had Byrnes put in the hospital. Byrnes figured out he was following you but he didn’t figure out that Niven already had some photos of you. Niven sent these to me because he was scared.”
“Byrnes should’ve killed that bastard.” Anders.
“You may get your wish. Niven’s in bad shape.”
“Wait a minute,” Valerie said. She’d been standing close to Anders but now she backed away as if she’d discovered he was toxic. Which he was, of course. “You had that pig Teddy Byrnes put somebody in the hospital?”
“Oh, for shit’s sake, Valerie, don’t get into one of your sanctimonious moods as usual. I did what I needed to. He was following me around. And now I learn he got photos of us. He would’ve blackmailed us.”
“He wouldn’t have blackmailed either one of you. He’s a decent guy.” Me.
“How many times have I told you that I don’t want you hanging around Teddy Byrnes? He’s a psychopath. When he looks at me I get terrified.”
“It’s all in your head.”
“Will you say that after he rapes and kills me some night when you’re not around? And give me that damned gun.”