Kiss Her Goodbye: A Houston Cash Novel by Harvey Burgess

Author:Harvey Burgess [Burgess, Harvey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781462028047
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2011-09-14T11:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I WAS LYING FLAT ON my back, staring up at a stippled ceiling. Somewhere a television was tuned in to what sounded like an old sitcom. People were laughing sporadically. I blinked against the harsh glare of a light coming from somewhere.

I raised my head to look around. It felt like somebody had driven a spike through the top of my scalp and I quickly lowered my head back on what felt like a carpeted floor, left it there for a minute and raised up again, this time looking around.

It took me a minute to realize I was on the floor of a hotel room, half in, half out the door. Raining outside, hard. Blink of lightning, crack of thunder.

Slowly and not without pain, I raised up on an elbow, then knees, then on my feet, swaying a little. I grabbed the open door for support. Holiday Inn, Birmingham, my brain was signaling through the fog, synapses firing slowly. Room. Guy with gun. Eddie. Eddie? I plodded outside, stiff-legged, looking both ways.

Two figures, lying in a heap on the walkway. Someone talking in the distance, couldn’t tell where. I reached up to my forehead, brought my hand back; blood. Damn, the pain. Throbbing. My foot struck something and I looked down, saw my pistol at my feet; bent over, woozy, picked it up. Clip still in. I put it back in the holster and lumbered, unsteady, to the figures on the walk, eyes trying to focus.

Shit. Eddie and that guy. Eddie still on top, face down. I nudged him between the shoulder blades.

In a flash, he rolled over, right arm flailing. I blocked it. “Whoa, boy. It’s me. Cash,” I said.

Eddie looked up at me, eyes glassy. “What the hell happened?”

“From the looks of it, I’d say we were both cold-cocked.” I looked around, and about five feet south of Eddie’s feet was some kind of metal pipe. I walked over, looked. A chromed shower curtain rod, best I could tell. Dented about halfway, maybe a few flecks of blood. Picked it up. Heavy. A cheap chrome rod with steel rebar inside, probably bulked up by the hotel people so it wouldn’t bend from towels and clothing being hung on it. I glanced at the row of parked cars. The Chevrolet was gone.

Eddie sat up, touching the back of his head, mumbling something.

“You went through the door, I heard a noise, somebody comin’ toward me,” he said. “Before I could get up, wham. Right in the back of the head. Saw stars, I think. Footsteps haulin’ ass.”

“Could you see who it was?”

“Nah. Too quick. More’n one, I’m pretty sure.”

“Male or female?”

“Beats the shit out of me.”

The other figure stirred and I rolled him over. Rayford Dowling, without a doubt. Eyes closed, not quite back with us.

“You steady enough to help me transport ol’ Ray here inside?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna need a bottle of fuckin’ aspirin soon.”

We carried the semi-conscious Dowling into the hotel room, tossed him on the bed.

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