Speak Softly My Love by Louis Shalako Read Free Book Online Page B

quickly, setting the needle down with a pop,
skipping back to centre stage. Hubert looked around. They were the
most likely prospects in the place. There were only about ten or
twelve guys in there, none of whom he would ever want to talk to.
Everyone drinks alone, when you really think of it…
    That much was true.
    The poor
girls did it all the time. He felt sorry for them in so many ways.
That’s probably why the average male tipped so large—every stinking
one of them trying to outdo the next guy. The girls talked to the
customers. They drank soda water, pretending it was a full-price
drink, and hoarded their tips. As often as not, they ended up by
giving it all away to some opium-eater of a poet who wasn’t worth a
crock of shit. Pretty much every damned one of them had a kid or
two stashed away with mother or grandmother. It wasn’t like
everyone didn’t know that on some intuitive level.
    She really was staring at him. He always liked the way his heart skipped at
moments like that, although it was meaningless enough. It’s not
like they had any real money…
    The
scratches were blotted out, the music started up in earnest and the
girl began to move.
    Hubert’s
mouth opened. It really was mesmerizing. Undeniable,
really.
    Tailler
leaned over.
    “ What in the hell is that?”
    “ It’s a girl, Tailler—”
    Didn’t your father tell you anything?
    “ I know that. What the hell’s the name of that
song?”
    That was
it.
    There
was no hope for the boy whatsoever. Hubert rolled his eyes in the
general direction of some imaginary audience.
    “ You know what?”
    Tailler,
senses on high alert, looked over.
    “ What?”
    “ It’s your turn to buy.”
    That
pitcher wasn’t going to refill itself.
     
     

Chapter Seven

     
    Their
dynamic duo came traipsing in after eleven in the morning. Gilles
was out of the office, having court again today. Firmin and Levain
were the only ones there. The pair hung up coats and hats and
busied themselves. Tailler began sorting the contents of his
briefcase, laying it all out on the desk, nice and neat. Hubert
headed straight for the coffee-pot, looking a bit bleary-eyed if
anyone had taken a good look.
    His head
turned.
    “ Hey, Andre.” Firmin was implied in
there somewhere.
    Levain
was tempted to ignore his ringing telephone.
    “ Hey.” He put some thought into it. “How was your train
ride.”
    Levain
picked up and listened for a moment.
    “ Very well. Okay. Thank you.” He set it down again.
    Tailler
was ready.
    “ Once more from the top. So. How did it go?” Levain leaned back, placing his
hands across his stomach.
    He
tipped his chair back and put his hands up behind his
head.
    “ Yeah. Amazing. That Didier really gets around, Andre.”
Tailler glanced at his notes, but it was all still fresh in his
memory.
    Levain’s
eyebrows began to creep upwards in anticipation.
    “ Sure.”
    “ He’s got a thing for blondes, apparently. Hot ones, very,
very hot ones.” He looked at the coffeepot but it was down to the
last centimetre. “Who knows, there may be more of them out
there.”
    He
certainly hoped so, his attitude seemed to indicate. There was this
beautiful look on his face.
    Tailler,
at least, had no trace of a hangover, and couldn’t help but feeling
a bit superior.
    The
train ride, the fresh air blasting in the windows and innumerable
cups of the always excellent railway coffee, the only thing they
did really well, hadn’t made much of a dent in Hubert’s head. Not
to hear him tell it. His eyeballs looked red and raw, and he had
been oddly subdued all morning.
    “ Ha.” Levain was there to listen and guide, but Gilles and
Firmin, their two most senior men, were going to let the leash off
the two young detectives.
    Maintenon said to let them go as far as they could on their
own.
    Levain
guessed he didn’t have a problem with it. There were plenty of
cases to go around.
    This one
looked like a toughie, which was good.
    Sooner
or later it had to be