Roses Are Dead by Loren D. Estleman Read Free Book Online Page A

him.”
    The bartender cruised past, stopping to wipe off a table nearby. She waited until he moved away.
    â€œIt was on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building. I was coming home from work and there he was. He was thinner than I remembered and his hair was shorter, but the time in the hospital didn’t seem to have hurt him physically. He had a knife with him.”
    â€œHe threaten you with it?”
    â€œYes. Well, not really. He didn’t wave it at me or even mention it. He just cleaned his fingernails with it. All the time he was talking he was cleaning his fingernails. It was one of those fancy ones with a lot of attachments. We used to call them Swiss Army knives.”
    â€œWhat’d he say?”
    â€œNothing. He just said it was good to see me and that I looked good, said he was job-hunting; small talk. He pretended we met by accident. But he was waiting for me. He offered to see me to the door of my apartment. I said that wouldn’t be necessary and he didn’t push it. I don’t think we were talking for more than five minutes. But all the time he was cleaning his nails with that big knife.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œI think he’s been following me. I never see him doing it. I just feel him. He means to kill me, and you people won’t do anything to stop him. He was declared sane by psychiatrists, but he’s just as crazy as he was when he went to the hospital, and he’s going to cut me up just like that man in the parking lot and no one’s going to stop him.”
    She had raised her voice. The bartender was watching them from across the room. The man stared at him until he looked away. Quietly the man said, “I’m not with the police.”
    â€œYou’re not? But, Uncle Howard said—”
    â€œHe didn’t say I was a cop. How much do you know about the law practice he shared with your father?”
    She crushed out her cigarette and sat back. “I’m not naive. I’ve known what kind of clients they represented since I was seventeen.”
    â€œThat would be about the time you got into moviemaking?”
    â€œAbout then, yes.”
    â€œI used to work for one of their clients,” he said. “Michael Boniface.”
    â€œOh.” She played with her glass. “A leg-breaker. Well, you won’t scare Roy. They had some parts left over when they built him, and the ability to be scared was one of them. If you’re the best Uncle Howard could do—”
    â€œI don’t scare people. Not for a living. I come in when the leg-breakers give up.”
    His eyes were on hers. He watched the color subside from her face. She started to get up quickly, clutching her purse. He clamped a hand on her wrist and held it.
    â€œI’m seeing you as a favor to Klegg,” he said. “I don’t need the work.”
    â€œFine. Because if you think I’m going to pay you to—”
    â€œKill Blossom. Let’s stop waltzing around it. Sit down.” His fingers tightened.
    Glaring, she obeyed. He withdrew the hand. She rubbed the red spots on the underside of her wrist. “Violence never solves anything.”
    â€œIt solves almost everything. It’s why we arm the police, and it’s why we still have wars. Have you ever thought how many lives would have been saved if some enterprising assassin had stabbed Hitler in that beer hall in Munich?”
    â€œThat would have been sinking to his level.”
    â€œThere’s only one level, Miss King. It belongs to the survivors.”
    â€œI’m not a killer.”
    â€œThat’s why you need me.”
    She finished her drink and lit another cigarette, looking at him through the smoke.
    â€œI don’t even know you’re what you say you are. Maybe you’re just some grifter who’ll take my money and go and I’ll still have Roy to deal with.”
    â€œMy name is Macklin.”
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