Paint It Black by P.J. Parrish Read Free Book Online

dock. There was something about her that made him feel as if he were twelve years old and he didn’t want her fussing over him.
    Louis settled into the chair opposite Dodie, who acknowledged him with a grunt from behind the Sports section.
    Margaret put a mug of coffee in front of him. “You want some toast and eggs?” she asked.
    â€œThat would be great,” Louis said, rubbing his face. He glanced up at the clock above the sink. It was after ten. He hadn’t slept so long or so soundly in years. Probably the Percodan. He felt something rub his calf and looked down to see Issy. He gently pushed the cat away with his foot. It trotted away to the bowl of kibbles Margaret had set out by the refrigerator.
    â€œTwins lost to the Yanks in ten,” Dodie muttered. He put down the paper and took a slurp of his coffee. “You wanna go see a spring training game? It’s right over in Fort Myers.”
    â€œSure. Why not?”
    â€œI’ll get us some tickets. Margaret hates baseball. It’ll be nice to have someone to go with.” Dodie went back to his reading.
    Louis hid his smile. It was strange, this new relationship with Sam Dodie. Dodie was only forty-five, but during the last week of living in his home, Louis sometimes felt as if the man was trying to play father to a long-lost son.
    The kitchen filled with the smell of bacon. The sun slanted through the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio. Louis pulled the Lifestyles section out of the Fort Myers News-Press and tried to lose himself in the mundane tribulations of Dear Abby’s disciples.
    â€œJesus,” Dodie said suddenly.
    Louis looked up.
    â€œThey found another body,” Dodie said.
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œYesterday. Floated up out by Bakers Point.” He held out the front page. Louis took it and quickly read the story. It was a tourist, another black man, but the story didn’t say anything more other than that he was stabbed to death.
    â€œWhere’s Bakers Point?” Louis asked.
    â€œSouth end of Sereno. It’s the tip of the key, part of Matlacha Wildlife Preserve. Might not be related.”
    â€œTwo stabbings in two weeks. Two black men. In a town that you say has never had a murder? Too coincidental for comfort, I’d say,” Louis said.
    Dodie nodded grimly.
    Margaret set a plate in front of Louis. “I can’t believe it,” she said quietly. “I mean, this place is so . . . quiet.” She turned back to the stove, shaking her head.
    Dodie looked at Louis, then returned to reading the story. Louis took a bite of bacon and rose quickly, going to the phone on the wall.
    â€œWho you calling?” Dodie asked.
    â€œWainwright,” Louis answered.
    Louis waited, eating the bacon, while the operator tried to locate Wainwright. Finally, she patched Louis through to the chief’s squad car.
    â€œI thought you might be calling,” Wainwright said.
    â€œIs it the same MO?” Louis asked.
    â€œCome see for yourself. I’m on my way to the county morgue.”
    Louis got directions and hung up. He picked up his coffee and took a quick drink.
    â€œWhere you going?” Dodie asked.
    â€œAutopsy’s this morning,” Louis said as he put three pieces of bacon between toast. “Wainwright said I could be there.”
    Dodie nodded at the food in Louis’s hand. “I’d forget about that if I was you.”
    Louis looked at the bacon sandwich in his hand, then put it back on the plate.
    Â 
    Â 
    It was past eleven by the time Louis got to the Lee County morgue, a squat municipal building on the edge of the Page Field airport. He found his way down the yellow-tiled hallway to the autopsy room. There was a large black man leaning against the wall outside, dressed in green medical scrubs. He took a sip from his Star Trek coffee mug and eyed Louis as he approached.
    â€œWainwright’s in there,” he said in a flat voice,