Hit Man by Lawrence Block

Author:Lawrence Block
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
ISBN: 9780752825922
Publisher: Orion mass market paperback
Published: 1998-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

In the morning he drove into downtown Muscatine and had breakfast at a diner. The crowd was almost exclusively male and most of the men wore suits. Keller, in a suit himself, read the local paper while he ate his breakfast. There was a crossword puzzle, but he took one look at it and gave it a pass. The longest word in it was six letters: Our northern neighbor. The way Keller figured it, when it came to crossword puzzles it was the Times or nothing.

There was a pay phone at the diner, but he didn’t want his conversation overheard by the movers and shakers of Greater Muscatine. Even if no one answered, he didn’t want anyone to hear him say “Toxic Shock.” He left the diner and found an outdoor pay phone at a gas station. He placed the call, said his two words, and in no time at all a woman cut in to say, “Hello? Hello?”

Tinny phone, he thought. Rinky-dink local phone company, what could you expect. But it was better than the computer-generated phone message. At least you knew you were talking to a person.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I was out, I had to—”

“Let’s not get into that,” he said. “Let’s not spend any more time on the phone than we have to.”

“I’m sorry. Of course you’re right.”

“I need to know some things. The name of the person I’m supposed to meet with, first of all.”

There was a pause. Then, tentatively, she said, “My understanding was that there wasn’t to be a meeting.”

“The other person,” he said, “that I’m supposed to meet with, so to speak.”

“Oh. I didn’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m not used to this.” No kidding, he thought.

“His name is Stephen Lauderheim,” she said.

“How do I find him? I don’t suppose you know his address.”

“No, I’m afraid not. I know the license number of his car.”

He copied it down, along with the information that the car was a two-year-old white Subaru squareback. That was useful, he told her, but he couldn’t cruise around town looking for a white Subaru. Where did he park this car?

“Across the street from my house,” she said, “more often than I’d like.”

“I don’t suppose he’s there now.”

“No, I don’t think so. Let me look. . . . No, he’s not. There was a message from him last night. In between your messages. Nasty, vile.”

“I wish I had a photo of him,” he said. “That would help. I don’t suppose—”

No photo, but she could certainly describe him. Tall, slender, light brown hair, late thirties, long face, square jaw, big white horse teeth. Oh, and he had a Kirk Douglas dimple in his chin. Oh, and she knew where he worked. At least he’d been working there the last time the police had been involved. Would that help?

Keller rolled his eyes. “It might,” he said.

“The name of the firm is Loud & Clear Software,” she said. “On Tyler Boulevard just beyond Five Mile Road.

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