A Slow Death (Max Drescher Book 1) by James Craig Read Free Book Online Page B

head opened and Sarah’s head popped out. ‘Dinner’s ready,’ she trilled.
    ‘I’ll be right there,’ Michael replied, careful to keep his voice down because of the kids.  He turned to Max. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to join us?’
    ‘Nah.’ Max finished his beer. He was beginning to feel nicely wasted now, and in the mood for some serious drinking. ‘Thanks for the beers, but I need to get going.’
    Michael looked at him doubtfully. ‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
    ‘I’m sure.’ Max got to his feet. ‘I’ve got things to do.’
    Michael raised an eyebrow. ‘Planning a big night?’
    Yes, but not in the way you think. ‘Not really.’ He headed for the door. ‘Thanks for the beer. I’ll see you at the station bright and early in the morning.’
     

8
     
    Timing his arrival perfectly, Max reached Littbarski's just as an elderly couple were getting up from their table. Skipping in front of a hovering tourist, he plonked himself down on a still warm seat and buried his head in a menu, the better to ignore the dispossessed man’s grumbled protests. Almost immediately, a member of staff appeared to clear the table. Max ordered two bottles of Veltins Pilsener and a packet of HB. He smiled at the pretty young waitress as she read back his order and got a big, bright grin right back for his trouble, which made him feel great. He checked out the girl’s ass as she skipped back inside the café before settling back to watch the crowds on Adalbertstrasse.
    It’s great to be alive.
    The funny thing, Max realised, was that ever since leaving the company of the callow doctor at Charité he had felt fantastic. It was as if he could sense energy and health radiating from his every pore.
    Pulling out a cigarette packet from his jacket, he put the last HB between his lips, crumpled the empty packet in his fist and dropped it into the large, circular metal ashtray in the middle of the table. Lighting up the cigarette, he took a long drag and held in the smoke deep in his lungs for as long as he could manage. Finally exhaling, he took a small brown envelope from his jacket pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper containing his test results. After taking another drag on his cigarette, he carefully set light to one corner of the paper and watched it slowly burn. Fuck knows what happens from here on in, he mused , but it's too late to worry about it now.
    As the waitress arrived with the beers and his fresh packet of cigarettes, Max dropped the burning paper on to the sidewalk. For a moment, he watched it burn half-heartedly on the concrete. Then, stamping out the flame with the toe of his sneaker, he kicked the charred remains into the gutter. Ignoring his eccentric behaviour, the girl carefully placed the drinks on the table, along with a small plate containing his bill.
    ‘Danke.’ Giving her another big smile, Max dropped some coins on to the plate, enough for the beers, the smokes and also large tip. Nodding appreciatively, the girl scooped up the plate and headed over to serve a waiting customer at a nearby table.
    A very pretty couple strolled past the bar, each of them eying Max as they did so. The attention, however casual, further added to his sense of profound wellbeing; if he hadn’t been waiting for someone, the Kriminalinspektor might have asked them to join him. Finishing his cigarette, he tore the cellophane from the new packet, flipped open the top and pulled out another, firing it up and sucking greedily. If nothing else, he was going to up his alcohol and nicotine intake considerably from now on.
     
    Max had gone through both beers and half a dozen smokes when a familiar face finally appeared out of the throng. Pulling up a seat, Peter Behle looked around furtively before plonking himself down.
    Behle signalled to the waitress for a couple of fresh beers. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead, he didn’t look happy. It suddenly struck Max that he