Eight Million Ways to Die by Lawrence Block Read Free Book Online Page A

experience fighting Canelli and he gains confidence by beating him." We were on Central Park West now, heading uptown.
    "The knockout was real. Canelli would have gone in the tank in the eighth, but we hoped the Kid might get us home early, and you saw him do that. What do you think of him?"
    "He's a comer."
    "I agree."
    "Sometimes he telegraphs the right. In the fourth round--"
    "Yes," he said. "They've worked with him on that. The problem is that he generally manages to get away with it."
    "Well, he wouldn't have gotten by with it tonight. Not if Canelli had been looking to win."
    "Yes. Well, perhaps it's as well that he wasn't."
    We talked boxing until we got to 104th Street, where Chance turned the car around in a careful U-turn
    and pulled up next to a fire hydrant. He killed the motor but left the keys. "I'll be right down," he said,
    "after I've seen Sonya upstairs."
    She hadn't said a word since she told me it was nice to meet me.
    He walked around the car and opened the door for her, and they strolled to the entrance of one of the two large apartment buildings that fronted on that block. I wrote the address in my notebook. In no more than five minutes he was back behind the wheel and we were heading downtown again.
    Neither of us spoke for half a dozen blocks. Then he said, "You wanted to talk to me. It doesn't have anything to do with Kid Bascomb, does it?"
    "No."
    "I didn't really think so. What does it have to do with?"
    "Kim Dakkinen."
    His eyes were on the road and I couldn't see any change in his expression. He said, "Oh? What about her?"
    "She wants out."
    "Out? Out of what?"
    "The life," I said. "The relationship she has with you. She wants you to agree to... break things off."
    We stopped for a light. He didn't say anything. The light changed and we went another block or two and he said, "What's she to you?"
    "A friend."
    "What does that mean? You're sleeping with her? You want to marry her? Friend's a big word, it covers a lot of ground."
    "This time it's a small word. She's a friend, she asked me to do her a favor."
    "By talking to me."
    "That's right."
    "Why couldn't she talk to me herself? I see her frequently, you know. She wouldn't have had to run around the city asking after me.
    Why, I saw her just last night."
    "I know."
    "Do you? Why didn't she say anything when she saw me?"
    "She's afraid."
    "Afraid of me?"
    "Afraid you might not want her to leave."
    "And so I might beat her? Disfigure her? Stub out cigarettes on her breasts?"
    "Something like that."
    He fell silent again. The car's ride was hypnotically smooth. He said, "She can go."
    "Just like that?"
    "How else? I'm not a white slaver, you know." His tone put an ironic stress on the term. "My women stay with me out of their own will, such will as they possess. They're under no duress. You know Nietzsche? 'Women are like dogs, the more you beat them the more they love you.' But I don't beat them, Scudder. It never seems to be necessary.
    How does Kim come to have you for a friend?"
    "We have an acquaintance in common."
    He glanced at me. "You were a policeman. A detective, I believe.
    You left the force several years ago.
    You killed a child and resigned out of guilt."
    That was close enough for me to let it pass. A stray bullet of mine had killed a young girl named Estrellita Rivera, but I don't know that it was guilt over the incident that propelled me out of the police department.
    What it had done, really, was change the way the world looked to me, so that being a cop was no longer something I wanted to do. Neither was being a husband and a father and living on Long Island, and in due course I was out of work and out of the marriage and living on Fifty-seventh Street and putting in the hours at Armstrong's. The shooting unquestionably set those currents in motion, but I think I was pointed in those directions anyway and would have gotten there sooner or later.
    "Now you're a sort of half-assed detective," he went on "She hire you?"
    "More or