Peeper by Loren D. Estleman Read Free Book Online Page A

away.”
    Neal English was an independent insurance actuary with an office in the City National Bank Building overlooking Cadillac Square. He had a monolithic face, all planes and angles with fierce black eyebrows like Lincoln’s, creating an effect he tried to soften with pink shirts and knobby knitted ties. It was just past five o’clock and he was standing behind his desk, scooping papers into a maroon leather attaché case with gold fittings.
    â€œThe boot didn’t hurt you none,” Ralph said.
    â€œNot a bit. It just cost me my wife and my kid and seven years’ seniority at Great Lakes. I’d be running the place now.”
    â€œWhich one, the insurance company or the Albanian restaurant?”
    â€œGo away, Ralph.”
    â€œHell, Neal, it was a sweet setup. Forge the old coot’s signature and slip the policy into the files. Who knew the widow would turn yellow and spill the works? You know what an eighteen-year-old broad could do with half of fifty grand?”
    â€œYou could have told Arnie I didn’t know anything about it. He damn near prosecuted.”
    â€œWell, he didn’t, so what’s the beef?”
    â€œI was out of work for a year. My wife divorced me and took my boy to Hawaii. I haven’t seen either of them in eleven years.”
    Ralph rested a ham on a corner of the desk. “Kids are expensive to raise, then they turn out crummy anyway. Wives too. Why buy a lake when you can dip your line for free?”
    When he came to, he was on his back on the carpet. Neal was sitting on the desk corner Ralph had vacated, sucking his knuckles.
    â€œWhat do you want, Ralph?”
    â€œYou been working out.” He sat up, tasting blood. “You didn’t used to knock me all the way down.”
    â€œYou weren’t so fat and slow then. Don’t get up yet; I’ve got another hand. What do you want?”
    â€œI think somebody’s out to kill me.”
    â€œTell whoever it is I said good luck.”
    â€œI ain’t kidding.”
    â€œMe neither.”
    â€œYou know that hooker got blown up this morning?”
    â€œThe gas explosion? I read about it.”
    â€œWell, it wasn’t no accident.”
    â€œYou blew up a hooker?”
    â€œHell no. What do I look like?”
    â€œRight now, a pile of shit on my rug.”
    â€œIt was in my building. Somebody let himself in, monkeyed with the wall switch so it’d throw a spark, and filled the place with gas on his way out.”
    â€œBrainy. What was the hooker into and what was your angle?”
    â€œIt’s more like who was into the hooker.” Ralph told him the rest, beginning with Lyla Dane’s call and finishing with the discovery of the arc switch. He left out the part about the photographs.
    â€œThis the same Monsignor John Breame the News said was found by an altar boy counting angels in his bed at the St. Balthazar rectory this morning?” Neal asked.
    â€œThanks to me and this bug Carpenter.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œThe blowup was meant for me, ain’t that obvious? Carpenter assumed I’d be going back to that same apartment and rigged it while I was waiting for him down on the street. Only I didn’t go there. I went back to my place and went to bed.”
    â€œBishops don’t kill people over priests that can’t keep their vows in their pants.”
    Ralph sucked on his split lip. “What world you living in, Neal? Shape the Catholic Church is in, he might do just that to keep it quiet.”
    â€œCount yourself lucky, then. Justice passed you by this time. You’ve screwed more people than any ten hookers.”
    â€œThing is, I got an appointment with the bishop in less than an hour. Could be he wants to finish the job.”
    â€œDon’t go.”
    â€œI got to. Could be I got some business there.”
    Neal slid off the desk. “Get up, Ralph.”
    â€œYou told me not