Ken Kuhlken_Hickey Family Mystery 01 by The Loud Adios

Author:The Loud Adios [Adios, The Loud]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General
ISBN: 9780312059514
Publisher: St Martins Pr
Published: 1991-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The Santa Ana blew in that night. It began with hints. A warm gust now and then. A few stars flickered hotly. Moonbeams danced around.

Out over the Pacific, it looked like you could see a thousand miles, so you felt pretty sure no Japs were flying that way. And except for the rare gusts, silence prettier than music hung in the air.

At 8:30, in the office shack, Tito got the phone call from Teodoro Peña. From the corner of Revolución and Calle Siete, he’d watched two uniformed men escort a girl in red, with a hood and her face covered, out of a Cadillac limo and into Hell.

Just past 8:45, Leo Weiss’ Packard eased around the corner, off Revolución to Calle Siete. It pulled to a stop just where the sidewalk turned to dirt in front of the dental and abortion clinic that was closed for the night. The only places open for a long block either way were Hell on the south side a hundred yards downhill from the Packard and the tattoo parlor on the north side a half-block up the hill. The parlor wasn’t busy yet. That would be later, after midnight when the sailors got blind and stupid.

Hickey jumped out from the shotgun side of the Packard and loped across the street, to the dark beneath an apartment balcony. From there he had a straight view to Hell. Upstairs, some lights burned. In the window toward the rear of the building, a reddish glow bled through the shades and down their edges.

On that block only five cars were parked. Two old Ford jalopies. A white, spit-shined Cadillac limo with its chauffeur inside. A green British touring car. And the red Chevy.

There were only a few pedestrians. A couple strolling toward the river. A few sailors wandering up from the Club de Paris. A beggar woman with a gang of kids tagging behind, snooping in trash cans and gutters. The cop on the porch across the street from Hell looked awake, but just barely. And there was the doorman.

Hickey waited until the doorman glanced away down the hill, then he hustled back across the street.

Clifford hung out the Packard’s rear window. “Is she there?”

“Sshh!” Hickey leaned on the car, got an inch from the kid’s sorry face. “Yeah, she’s there. Let me in.”

He looked up the hill for the giant to come around the corner and give him a wave, telling him the Jeep was parked and ready, on Revolución. But McColgin didn’t show yet. Hickey slid into the Packard. The kid moved over. He sat with both hands under his coat, one hand on the pistol, the other on the gas mask. Whenever he glanced at Hickey, a grimace tightened his face. When he turned away, it became a vicious snarl, and his hands squeezed the mask and pistol brutally. In the front seat, Tito sat puffing on a brown cigarette. The smoke seeped out between his clenched teeth. Enrique kept busy popping his knuckles and watching out the back window.

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