Sheer Gall by Michael A. Kahn Read Free Book Online Page A

weren’t, but bluffing is part of the trial game.
    ***
    â€œI don’t blame her,” I said to Benny. “I’d have booted you out of my house, too.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBenny, you violated a basic law of the universe. When you’re trying to impress a woman, you never never never make fun of Sleepless in Seattle . Never.”
    â€œWait a minute,” he said, giving me an incredulous look as he picked up his chili dog. “You’re telling me you liked that chick flick?”
    I shrugged. “Sure. It made me cry.”
    He paused in midbite, staring at me with astonishment. Then he gazed up toward the ceiling and shook his head. “Lord have mercy.”
    We were having lunch in a booth at Llewelyn’s Pub. More precisely, I was having lunch: a plate of red beans and rice and an iced tea. Benny was devouring one of his typical gorge-o-ramas: two jumbo chili dogs with extra onions and a side of jalapeño peppers, a huge platter of Welsh chips doused in vinegar, an order of onion rings, a plate of dill pickles, and a pint of Guinness stout (the most appropriately named of Benny’s favorite beverages). It was the sort of cramfest that he would conclude with a satisfied belch and that any normal person would conclude with an ambulance ride to the emergency room.
    â€œBy the way,” he said, leaning forward with raised eyebrows, “it’s looking a little dicier for Neville McBride.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œThey’ve got the initial test results on that puddle of semen.”
    â€œHis?”
    â€œThey can’t say for sure, but he’s definitely in the running.”
    â€œHow so?”
    Benny paused to take a big gulp of beer. “To begin with, he has the same blood type as the perpetrator.”
    â€œThat narrows it some.”
    â€œThere’s more. According to my source, the mystery man was firing blanks.”
    Firing blanks? I repeated to myself. It took a moment. “He was sterile?” I asked.
    â€œTechnically speaking, yes. There wasn’t a single sperm cell in the semen.”
    I looked at him with a frown. “Which means?”
    â€œIt could mean several things, but the frontrunner is that the killer had had a vasectomy.”
    â€œAnd Neville McBride has had a vasectomy?”
    Benny grinned. “He most certainly did.”
    â€œBrother,” I mumbled. Over the past two days, the lurid details of the murder had faded in my mind. This information jerked them back into appallingly sharp focus.
    Benny chuckled. “Sounds to me like old Neville may be headed for an extended stay at the buttfuck motel.”
    I gave him a long-suffering stare and sighed. “You actually eat with that mouth?”
    Our waiter came over to the booth. “Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Rachel Gold?”
    I nodded.
    â€œYour secretary is on the phone. She says it’s important.”
    I gave Benny a puzzled look as I stood up. The telephone was at the end of the bar. Harry the bartender, a burly man with a full red beard, smiled as I approached.
    â€œHere you go, Rachel,” he said, handing me the phone.
    â€œThanks, Harry.” I took the phone from him. “Jacki?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Rachel. I have an obnoxious lawyer named Jonathan Wolf on the phone. He says he’s representing Neville McBride. I told him you were at lunch but he demanded that I find you and get you on the line. I didn’t know what to do.”
    â€œThat’s okay. Put him through.”
    There was a clicking noise on the phone, and then Jacki said, “Go ahead.”
    â€œHello?” I said.
    â€œHold for Mr. Wolf,” a woman’s voice answered.
    After nearly a minute—a long time to wait on hold—he came on the line.
    â€œRachel?” he snapped.
    Classic alpha-dog tactic , I told myself. Leave your adversary on hold long enough to make her uneasy, and then attack with a snarl. As