Devil With a Gun by M. C. Grant Read Free Book Online

take me for?”
    â€œI don’t take you for anything other than what you are: a pushy, stubborn, controlling pain in the ass.”
    â€œNow you sound like my editor.”
    Frank’s mouth twitches. “Must be a smart and handsome man.”
    â€œNo comment,” I say and finish my coffee.

    â€œYou buying the gun?” Benny asks as I pay for the rental, ammo, and coffee. He has the Governor cleaned, oiled, and sitting pretty in its blue carrying case. “Take it now and I’ll deduct the cost of the rental straight off the top. Even throw in a trigger lock, two boxes of ammo, and a bore snake.”
    â€œI’m tempted,” I say.
    â€œPaperwork is already done. You’ve got your license, so you can take it home right now.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œSix fifty all in. I eat the taxes. Best deal you’ll find.”
    â€œThat’s a week’s wages,” I say.
    â€œBecause it’s you, I can take installments.”
    I chew my lower lip and study the Governor. I like how it feels in my hand, but do I really want a gun in my house?
    â€œSorry, Benny, I’m just not there yet.”
    Benny shrugs and takes my cash for the rental.
    â€œYou’ve got the bug, Dix,” he says. “I’ll get you soon.”
    â€œWe’ll see.” I head outside to catch a lift back downtown with Frank.

Six
    Frank drops me on the corner a block from the NOW offices. The morning mist has turned to drizzle, but I don’t mind. I’m one of those people who find walking in the rain to be one of the best ways to cleanse the jumble of my thoughts, sort out the mismatched ideas and see if there are any pairings to be made.
    Which reminds me—I’m way behind on laundry.
    As I near the restaurant, I pinch my nose, stare straight ahead, and make a dash for the stairs. Even with such precautions, I can smell the aroma of roasting lamb shanks with garlic and rosemary. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Dmitri installed a fan in the kitchen to blow directly into the stairwell.
    By the time I reach the third floor, I’m thinking someone should make a gum, like they do for smokers, for people who need their food cravings taken away. The heroin addicts I pass on the street are always skinny, so maybe we need a line of flavored gums with just enough poppy powder to take away the cravings without making us nodding zombies. The downside to that, of course, is that fewer things lower a woman’s perceived intelligence like chewing gum. Men, on the other hand, can pretend they’re baseball stars.
    After letting Stoogan see my face so he can report what a loyal and agreeable employee I am, I head into the morgue and ask Lulu to pull any files she has on Krasnyi Lebed or clippings that mention Red Swan.
    Her fingers dance across the keyboard.
    â€œNot much here,” she says when she looks back up. “Nothing under ‘Red Swan’ and only a couple of hits on Lebed. Man keeps a low profile.”
    â€œPull me what you have.”
    â€œSure, doll. Only take a minute. This to do with that Classified ad I mentioned?”
    â€œIt is.” I smile. “Thanks for that.”
    Lulu beams. “I’m not just a pretty face.”
    â€œPreaching to the choir, sister.”
    Lulu bursts out laughing as she disappears into the archives to search for printed copies of the material. When she returns, she is holding a slim folder with Krasnyi Lebed’s name on the cover.
    Newspapers keep archives of prominent people so that when they die, obituaries are easier to write. The same is true of criminals who are likely to get in trouble with the law again. Nothing beefs up a breaking story on deadline than being able to quickly pull up a background full of previous run-ins and convictions.
    I take the folder back to my desk and open it. There are only four clippings inside. Three are related to the case twelve years ago that Frank