The Violet Crow by Michael Sheldon Read Free Book Online

were fugitives hiding in subterranean tunnels, waiting to proceed to the next stage on their journey. Nothing relevant.
    Frustrated, he put the hair in a separate envelope and went to get a Rolling Rock from the fridge. He switched on the TV. The Big 5 sports channel. Beach volleyball, Penn against Temple. That was different. Where’d they find a beach this time of night in Philly? Lots of diving in the sand. Tattoos. Sunscreen. Bruno grabbed another beer at the start of the third match, but fell asleep before it ended.
    Then he had a dream. The statue of William Penn came to life. He climbed down from City Hall and walked to a dark field where he captured an owl by the wings. It is a life or death struggle. The owl keeps saying, “Who, Who, Who?” while William Penn sings in a funny singsong chant, “What’s the score? What’s the score? What’s the score?” And the owl replies, “50-3-2-60 …” over and over again.
    At last, he wakes up to find that it’s not an owl, but Big Bird singing. And it’s not William Penn, but Peaches Cromwell sitting on his bed, holding a steaming hot grande Starbucks latte in the vicinity of his head.

Chapter 11
    â€œWhere’s Maggie?” asked Bruno, startled.
    â€œEating breakfast.”
    â€œI didn’t know you could cook.”
    â€œIt’s actually a preparation similar to steak tartare, but without the sauce. I wasn’t sure that’d be good for her,” Peaches explained.
    â€œI’m impressed.” Bruno tried to get up.
    Peaches prevented him by planting a forearm in his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    â€œTo get my notepad. I need to write down my dream before I forget it.”
    Peaches waved the latte near Bruno’s cheek, threatening to spill it.
    â€œOK. I guess I’ll just commit it to memory.”
    Peaches eased her elbow away from his sternum, but didn’t back off with the latte.
    â€œI didn’t know you were so domestic,” Bruno quipped. “Next you’ll probably be telling me about how you used to be a cheerleader in high school?”
    â€œNow I’m impressed,” Peaches returned with smooth sarcasm. “You’re pretty good. You must be psychic. I did some research on you too.” She paused for effect. “Joey. Kaplan. Kicked out of Princeton for cheating …”
    Her knowledge of Bruno’s real name was supposed to unsettle him, but he took it in stride. “Couldn’t be helped. All the right answers seemed to pop into my head during exams. I didn’t realize I was ‘listening in’ on Robert Darling, the star student.”
    â€œThen you went to New York and took a job in advertising. Same thing. A client accused you of falsifying focus group research.”
    â€œThat’s not exactly true,” Bruno protested. “I ‘interviewed’ nearly a hundred people—who happened to be taking the day off on a beach near the city. They all seemed to be having fantasies about the Marlboro Man. I thought the brand was golden. But then we found out the population in general saw things quite differently …”
    â€œThen your marriage to Sharon Cohen broke up the same way. You caught her cheating on a trip to California—without ever leaving New York.”
    â€œIt was awful. One moment I was looking at her photograph. Next thing I knew, I was seeing every thing, just like I was there,” Bruno recalled ruefully. “Say, you trying to steam clean the upholstery or you going to let me drink that coffee?”
    Peaches ignored him. “Then you drifted around the West, got kicked out of Vegas and even the rinky-dink tribal casinos.”
    â€œThat’s where I perfected my Yiddish. You run into a lot of members of the lost tribe in those out-of-the-way casinos.”
    Peaches raised her eyebrows. “Drink the coffee. You’re going to need