Temptation Town by Mike Dennis Read Free Book Online Page A

him. Blood streamed from his right
ear, and he struggled for breath. When I pulled out my cell phone to call 911,
he clutched my forearm as best he could, gasping for words. With thinning black
hair, he appeared to be middle-aged, of slender build, maybe Hispanic.
    By the time I finished the call, he had reached
into the inside pocket of his jacket, unsteadily digging out a thick white
envelope. Quaking, he handed it to me. I saw writing, but I didn't stop to
look. Desperate brown eyes begged me to listen as he tried to speak. I cradled
his head. In the background, I heard a couple of cars passing by. No one
stopped.
    "G-g-give … to … " He hacked and moaned
in pain.
    "Give this to who? To who?" Without
thinking, I stuffed the envelope inside my shirt. I looked around. No
pedestrians anywhere on this back street.
    His eyes rolled upward into his head and blood kept
pouring out of his ear, flowing across the cold asphalt toward the gutter.
    "Who? Who?" I shouted.
    His labored breath tried to form words. "Bla
… Bl …" He exhaled once, and I knew he was gone.
    I departed the scene ASAP. Once the cops got here
and caught sight of a corpse, I wanted to be far, far away.
    Because I'm Jack Barnett, thirty-six, former private
investigator from Los Angeles, and the authorities there revoked my PI license
back in the spring of '01. I won't go into it here, but I'll just say I went a
little too far on this one job, and my hot temper got me into deep shit once
again. Turned out to be a pretty serious affair, so I felt I'd better split
town right way. Once I got to Las Vegas, I kept a low profile, realizing
California might well have a warrant out for me. So the last thing I need right
now is some cop taking my data and running it through the system.
    Also, there was the matter of the envelope.
    I hustled back to my car and fired it up. I drove
away, my eyes shifting between the road and the rear view mirror. No one,
except for the dead man, was on the street. I felt the envelope bulging inside
my shirt, and from the minute I first touched it, I had a pretty good idea of
what was inside. Patting it a couple of times, I headed directly home, without
exceeding the speed limit.
    Once in the relative safety of my apartment, I
relaxed and poured myself a straight-up Dalmore. I took a quick sip.
    Now, I have to say right here single-malt Scotch
is the only luxury I allow myself. My income has dropped off the cliff since
moving to Las Vegas, so I'm forced to live in a sparsely furnished, one-bedroom
apartment near downtown, but I make sure I have the good shit to drink.
    After the second smooth sip, I sat on the sofa and
pulled the envelope out of my shirt. It was larger than your average
letter-type envelope and made of heavy paper stock. Two layers of mailing tape
across the seal kept its dense contents from bursting it open. Handwriting on
the outside: the initials "JBB". Printed in the upper left-hand
corner were the words "Blake Enterprises" overlaying a slick-looking
corporate logo.
    I tore it open. A bundle of loose cash spilled out
onto my lap. Hundred-dollar bills, every one of them. Reflexively, I stole a
quick look around my empty apartment. There was nothing else in the envelope,
nothing to indicate what the money was for, or where it came from. Just the
initials on the outside.
    I began counting. Ninety-five thousand dollars and
two Scotches later, my mind lurched forward, assessing questions about the dead
man in the street, the money, and the initials on the envelope.
    You can bet your sweet ass I wanted to keep the
money. I mean, come on, the guy gave it to me, and I was under no obligation
whatever to pass it on to someone else. In addition, if he was run down
deliberately, the driver of the van didn't stop to get it himself, which means
he didn't know the guy was carrying that kind of cash. That meant he wouldn't
come after me for it, even if he knew who I was, which he didn't.
    It all added up to ninety-five thousand in