Read Murder by Candlelight for Free Online

Just being nice for nothing." Bud
paused again, thinking.
    "So I figured that was the end of it.
But then this Kunkle guy comes back in the tavern. And he's pissed.
Claims I stole his girl. First thing I know, he's whipped out this
card. And he gives it to me. Says it's a death card. That it means
I'm goin' to die." Bud was shaking his massive head.
    "I laughed it off. Told him to sober
up. And again, didn't think nothing more about it 'till he took a
shot at me after I locked up last night. Oh, it was him alright. I
saw him. Across the street. The same little guy. By this time, he's
running. But he took a shot at me. It was him."
    Pretty poor shot, Z was
thinking, to miss a target, broad as Bud. On the other hand, most
people couldn't hit an elephant with a handgun. Z couldn't, that only one of the reasons he
never carried a piece.
    "Report it to the cops?
    Stupid question, said Bud's
look.
    "What you want me to do?"
Z asked, at the same time nodding his agreement about the
helplessness of cops in such a case. Now if Kunkle had murdered Bud
....
    "I don't know," Bud admitted. "But
could you do something?"
    "Cost a hundred."
    "Like I said, I don't know when I can
pay. If you was a drinker, you could take it out in trade ...
except you're not. But I'm good for it. You know that."
    "Got an address?
    "What? ... Oh, I see.
Yeah."
    Unbuttoning the pointed, fold-down
flap on his western-style shirt pocket, Bud fingered out a slip of
paper. "I had my bar man look it up." Bud gave the scrap a
nearsighted stare. "Thought you might want it. He lives at 1761
Jarbo."
    "I'll have a talk with
him."
    "I don't know if that
would do any good, Z," Bud said quickly, far from convinced. "I
think he's crazy. I tried to run him off and it don't do no good.
And I'm a big guy. If he doesn't scare when I give him the bum's rush, how's a
talk from you going to help?"
    An understandable concern on Bud's
part, since Bud didn't know how effective Z's "talks" could
be.
    "My problem."
    "Yeah. That's your rep around the
neighborhood. Good ol' Z. Takes good care of his
friends."
    The deal struck, Bud rocked his weight
forward. Then back. Then forward, finally gaining enough momentum
to stand.
    Z got up, too.
    "Well. I'll be goin', then. But one
more thing. When you plannin' to see this guy?" Bud was pleading
now. Rare in a man that big. "I got to know."
    "Tomorrow."
    "You got a time in mind?"
    "Midnight."
    "Good. How you goin' to get in? ...
But that's what you're good at. Being a P.I. and all. That's your
business. I don't mean to pry."
    "Yeah."
    "Tomorrow night. At midnight." Bud
nodded to himself. "I don't mind admittin' I'll rest easier after
you fix this guy.
    "So ... I'm goin'. Thanks, Z. You were
my hero back in high school. Hell, everybody's hero. I was all
broke up when those bastards fixed your knee. I was out of school
by then, but I come back to see you play in the Raytown game. Hell,
I come back to see you play in all your games. You was somethin' to
watch, believe me. If only you could have been in the stands and
seen yourself. A streak of light. And power, too. They don't teach
that. It's natural. You got it or you don't."
    "Yeah."
    "So, I'm going."
    And ... he went.
    And that was that.
    Except it wasn't.
    Z's talk with Bud springing Z from the
party, Z let Bud get a head start for the parking area, then
followed slowly, careful to avoid dog-dug holes that might twist
his knee.
    Across the asphalt jogging strip,
through the fence, over the parking and off the curb, Z headed for
his car, thinking about the bake-job he was in for in the sun-fried
oven of the Cavalier. Roast Z, basted in his own sweat.
    The car had air
conditioning at one time ... no way Z could get it fixed this summer.
    At the car, ready to open the door, Z
noticed that the black stretch Lincoln was still down the line, its
tail end sticking out almost to the street.
    Just something about that car that
reminded him of Johnny Dosso's monster-of-a-machine. Same kind of
black