Repairman Jack [09]-Infernal by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

figured that.” He shook his head and puffed out his cheeks. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it? One fucking hell of a thing.”
    Jack couldn’t argue with that.
    Tom looked around. “I’m going to need a drink before we head for the morgue.”
    Jack explained about the delayed release of the body.
    “Christ, why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I left you a message.”
    Tom shook his head. “I still need a drink. Anyplace around here we can grab one?”
    Jack shrugged. “You kidding? This is New York. Bars everywhere. Or, if you’re really thirsty and can’t wait…” He turned toward the string of shops and eateries framing the main floor and pointed to the glowing yellow sign over Houlihan’s entrance. “We can stop there.”
    “Looks as good as any. Let’s go.”

4

    Tom guzzled Grey Goose on the rocks. Jack had watched him pound back two and order a third during their first ten minutes at the bar. He was still working on the first half of his Brooklyn Lager pint. The light was low but Jack thought he could make out a fine network of dilated capillaries on Tom’s nose. Drinker’s tats?
    “You were always his favorite, you know.”
    Jack forced a laugh. “Are we going to start a Smothers Brothers routine? ‘Mom always liked you best’? That sort of thing?”
    “It’s true.” Tom stared morosely into his third vodka. He was nursing this one. “I don’t think Dad particularly cared for me. I’m not saying he didn’t love me—I’m sure he did in the paternal sense—but I never had the feeling he liked me.”
    Jack didn’t want to go there.
    “Tom…”
    “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I know I can be an egotistic jerk at times. Ask the Skanks from Hell.”
    “Who?”
    “My exes.”
    “How many are there?” Jack asked, though he knew the answer.
    “Two. And number three’s not so crazy about me at the moment. Anyway, they’re not important. It’s Dad who’s dead.”
    Jack didn’t respond. He was trying to get a grip on this virtual stranger who was his brother. He sensed a deep melancholy. He seemed almost… dispirited.
    Tom sighed. “Maybe I should have done what you did.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Disappear. All Dad did was talk about you and how he was going to track you down and bring you back. I was there but all he cared about was you.”
    “Cut me a break,” Jack said. “He had Kate and Kevin and Lizzie, and… and your kids.”
    Tom looked at him. “You don’t even know their names, do you. They’re your nieces and nephews and you don’t know a thing about them.”
    True. He didn’t. Hadn’t met any of his family’s next generation.
    “Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for me to start remedying that.”
    “Don’t do us any favors.”
    Jack fought a flare of anger.
    “Christ, Tom, you’re here, what, fifteen minutes, and listen to you. That why you came? To start a fight? That’s not what this is about.”
    Tom sighed again. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not.” He drained his drink. “Sorry.”
    Jack did the same with his ale.
    “Let’s get you to your hotel room.”
    His head snapped toward Jack. “Hotel? I sort of figured I’d be staying with you.”
    “Nobody stays with me, Tom.”
    “Really?” He took on a pugnacious look. “How about Dad? Where was he going to stay?”
    “Not with me.”
    Tom shook his head. “You’re a weird one, Jackie—”
    “Jack.”
    “Okay: Jack. I talked to Dad last week about the Philly leg of his trip—during which he was going to stay at my place, by the way—and he said some strange things about you.”
    Uh-oh.
    “Like what?”
    “Well, I mean besides all the hagiographic blather about how you’d turned out and how good it was to get to know you again and all, he said something like, ‘If you ever need someone to watch your back, call Jack.’ Now what did he mean by that?”
    “Couldn’t say.”
    “What went on down in Florida that made the two of you so buddy-buddy?”
    “I guess