A Ticket to the Boneyard by Lawrence Block Read Free Book Online Page A

western style, with snaps instead of buttons, and he had one of those string ties with a turquoise slide.
    “You must be Scudder,” he said. “The pimping cop. Elaine wanted to let you know I was here, but I thought it would be nicer to surprise you. I told her I was sure you were a man who enjoyed surprises. I told Elaine not to make a sound, and so she didn’t make a sound, not even when I hurt her. She does what I tell her. Do you know why?”
    “Why?”
    “Because she’s beginning to realize I know what’s best for her. I know what she needs.”
    His pallor was such that he didn’t look to have any blood in his body. Beside him, Elaine was a matching shade; the blood had drained out of her face, and her strength and resolve looked to have gone with it. She looked like a zombie in a horror movie.
    “I know what she needs,” he said again, “and what she doesn’t need is a dull-witted cop to pimp for her.”
    “I’m not her pimp.”
    “Oh? What are you then? Her lawfully wedded husband? Her demon lover? Her twin brother, separated from her at birth? Her long-lost bastard son? Tell me what you are.”
    It’s funny what you notice. I kept looking at his hands. They still gripped her arm at the wrist and above the elbow. She’d told me how much strength he had in his hands, and I didn’t doubt her word, but they didn’t look that strong. They were large hands and his fingers were long, and knobby at the knuckle joints. The fingernails were short, clipped clear to the quick, and they had well-defined moons at their bases.
    “I’m her friend,” I said.
    “
I’m
her friend,” he said. “I’m her friends and her family.” He paused for a moment, as if to relish the sound of that statement. He looked as though he liked it well enough. “She doesn’t need anyone else. She certainly doesn’t need you.” He smiled just enough to show his prominent front teeth. They were large and slightly bucked. Horse teeth. Briskly he said, “Your services are no longer required. Your period of employment is terminated. You’re out on your ass, you piece of shit. She doesn’t want you around. Don’t just stand there, with your face hanging out like bloomers on a tenement washline. Go. Scat!”
    “Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I’m here at Elaine’s invitation, not yours. Now if she wants me to leave—”
    “Tell him, Elaine.”
    “Matt—”
    “Tell him.”
    “Matt, maybe you’d better go.”
    I looked at her, trying to cue her with my eyes. “Do you really want me to leave?”
    “I think you’d better.”
    I hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “Whatever you say,” I said, and moved toward the table where I’d set the gun down.
    “Hold it! What do you think you’re doing?”
    “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting my gun.”
    “I can’t allow that.”
    “Then I don’t see how the hell I can leave,” I said, reasonably. “That’s my service revolver, and I’d be in shit up to my ears if I left it here.”
    “I’ll break her arm.”
    “I don’t care if you break her neck. I’m not going anywhere unless the gun goes with me.” I thought for a moment. I said, “Look, I’ll pick it up by the barrel. I’m not looking to shoot anybody with it. I just want to walk out of here with it.”
    While he worked it out I took another two steps and reached out to take the gun by the barrel. I kept the gun within his field of vision, so that he could see it was no danger to him. I couldn’t have shot him anyway; he had Elaine positioned between us, and his fingers looked to be digging into her flesh. If she was in pain, I don’t think she was aware of it. All that showed in her face was a mix of fear and despair.
    Gun in hand, I angled forward and to my right. I was getting closer to him, but moving to put the coffee table between us. It was a flattened cube, of plywood I suppose, clad in white Formica. As I walked, I said, “I got to hand it to you, you made me look