Whistling in the Dark by Tamara Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

closing his eyes as they started off at an all too familiar speed. When he was able to look again, residences had given way to rundown shops and factories and in their midst, a rough crowd went about its business. Jack skidded to a halt before a two-story tumbledown building with a sidewalk blocked by everything from bed frames to bicycles, none of it in a condition worth stealing, let alone purchasing. A fat black cat--well-fed on rats, no doubt--yawned at them from the interior of a doorless icebox as they passed into the shop. The bright gleam of metal and warmer gleam of enamel crowded shelves to the ceiling. Sutton leaned toward Jack to whisper, "What is this place?"
    "No junk shops in Nebraska?"
    "Kansas," Sutton said, then realized Jack had done that on purpose. His wicked smirk confirmed it. "Do you ever inquire about anything the regular way?"
    "Would you've told me?"
    "Probably."
    "You wouldn't. You already think I'm a shady character," Jack said, apparently unoffended. "You're kin to that Albright in the newspaper, then? The fellow in Topeka?"
    That damned newspaper story. "Distantly."
    Jack laughed. "Fifteen hundred miles, that's a pretty good distance."
    Sutton let the comment pass and trailed Jack to the counter at the far end of the shop, where a reed-thin man in a plaid vest and collarless striped shirt hovered over various pieces of what looked like a disassembled toaster. Though he neither lifted his head nor removed grease-blackened fingers from his work, he offered up a greeting. "Damn, it ain't even been a week. You using those tubes to read by?"
    Jack snorted. "Sutton, this asshole is Keeler. Keeler, Sutton. He gave me a ride down here."
    "Oh yeah? Where's your bike?"
    "Sold it."
    "Well, they say walking's good for you." Keeler's grin showed off crooked teeth. "Oh, you know what? Something came in you'll want a look at." He wiped his hands on a towel filthier than he was, and skittered up a ladder to a top shelf. "Some genius bought himself a beauty of a set and never figured out how to work it, so he sells it to me cheap." He came down with a cardboard box in hand. "Sold off most of the parts the first day, but take a look at what's left, see if there's anything you need."
    Jack peeked into the box. "Don't suppose you could tuck it under the counter for a couple weeks? I'm a little short--"
    "Perhaps he could put it on your tab."
    Sutton's arch suggestion won him a wary look from Keeler and the flicker of rueful good humor from Jack.
    "I don't run tabs, I run a business," Keeler said. "I'll trade, maybe, if you got anything."
    "No--" Jack hesitated. "Yeah, wait a minute." He offered his pocketknife. "Any good?"
    Keeler ran a fingertip over the blade. "Army issue," he muttered, then looked apologetic. "Forget I said that."
    "Said what?" Jack hooked a finger over the rim of the box and drew it across the counter, Sutton leaning with him to get a better look. The contents seemed a pile of junk, but Jack's face lit up like he'd stumble on a pot of gold. "How much you want for all of it?"
    "More than this knife's worth. I'll give you a quarter."
    "Guess I'll take it. I need some parts for a Victor. Got anything?"
    "A few Vics over in the corner there. Help yourself."
    Sutton perched on the dusty edge of the shelf as Jack began to search through the row of old phonographs. "So--you were in France?"
    Jack pushed one machine out of the way to reach another. "What'd you do to these things, Keeler? Leave them out in the rain?"
    "Any rust you may find you'll have to take up with the previous owners." Keeler disappeared behind the counter.
    Sutton tried again. "I was in France, myself."
    "Good for you. Hand me a pair of pliers? The kit's behind you."
    Sutton pulled the wooden box from the shelf and dug around. "This?"
    "Are you kidding?" Jack exhumed something that was a fair approximation. "Didn't dig any trenches while you were in France?"
    "I'm well acquainted with the shovel."
    Jack's lips twitched. "That's a