The Voodoo Murders by Michael Avallone

Author:Michael Avallone [Avallone, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Story Merchant Books
Published: 2013-04-20T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

This one’s just too big for you to chew on by yourself, Ed,” somebody said in a loud, clear angry voice.

I opened my eyes. From my position on the couch, one of the Van Gogh paintings looked down at me. You know the one—that little house on the bridge. I shook my head. The rest of the room came together. Voodoo’s living room. With me in it. And a tall guy in a topcoat, and a shorter, burlier one smoking a cigar. Mike Monks. This was getting to be a habit—going under and waking up to find that bulldog nursing me.

I swiveled wearily on the couch. Voodoo and Peg Temple were among the missing. I felt my head surprised to find it still where it belonged on my shoulders. But the room was swimming around me. I felt real george.

“Christ, Mike. I feel lousy,” I said. “Please don’t play Number Six tonight. I’ve heard Four and Five already.”

He grunted and jerked a thumb at his tall subordinate. The guy disappeared somewhere in the next room. Monks waited for him to disappear and then stopped acting like a policeman who wasn’t my friend. He came over to the divan and put his foot up on one corner of it.

“Look, Ed. You should have stayed put in your office. You’re coming apart and you don’t know it. This one’s a big mess and you’re in no shape to tangle with it. If I hadn’t gone to your office to look in on you, you might be pushing flowers right now. What happened here?”

“Count Calypso has kidnapped Voodoo and my mysterious blonde that you won’t believe exists. That’s what.”

Monk’s rough face twisted. He sighed and fingered his cigar. “We drove up here in a cloud of dust,” he rumbled. “Just in time to lose a firehouse-red convertible loaded down with the oddest bunch of people I’ve seen outside the circus. So we hurried up here and found you spread out on the floor sleeping your head off. Want to talk about it?”

I frowned. He sounded as if he knew something I didn’t. I sighed and gave him the bulletin again. I forgot about my aching head. “What gives, Mike? Headquarters been busy or something? You sound awfully sure for a change.”

His expression pinned me to the divan with a fourteen-foot knife.

“We work down at that place, whether you think so or not. We’ve had time to check on things at the Hart offices. Your rich redhead recently hired a man to do an advertising campaign for her, in connection with her doll manufacturing. Nobody knew exactly what. The redhead kept pretty mum about promotions and publicity gimmicks until she was ready to spring them. But she hired a scrawny old wizard with a rep, somebody who comes from Trinidad. He calls himself Count Calypso. So we put our heads together with this doll murder gag and all your trouble. Then I started to think about the Calypso Room and Voodoo. And here we are.

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