The Destroyer - 46 - The Destroyer 046 - Next of Kin by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 2010-03-19T14:52:01+00:00

Chapter Eight

The next morn­ing was Sun­day. Re­mo sprang awake to a deaf­en­ing howl, the thun­der of heavy, be­wil­dered foot­steps, and the clank­ing of glass­es and ice cubes. He wrapped a tow­el around him­self and head­ed for the kitchen, but Sidonie in­ter­cept­ed him just out­side the bed­room.

“What you do out there?” the house­keep­er ac­cused, her eyes pinched in­to lit­tle black mar­bles. “This place a mess.”

“We had vis­itors last night,” Re­mo said lame­ly.

Sidonie craned her neck past him in­to the bed­room, where Fa­bi­enne was groan­ing awake, her hand held to her throb­bing fore­head. “Land sake, boy,” Sidonie gasped, step­ping back­ward in in­dig­na­tion. “What for you got her in your bed?”

Re­mo passed up the ob­vi­ous ex­pla­na­tion in view of the fact that Sidonie was a friend of the girl’s, and al­so be­cause she had to weigh in at over 225 and al­ready had a cou­ple of belts of rum in her. “She’s been hurt,” he said.

Sidonie wad­dled ten­ta­tive­ly in­to the room, her ice cubes tin­kling in her glass as she swayed her heavy bulk to­ward the girl in the bed. When she saw the chain of bruis­es around Fa­bi­enne’s throat, she placed her hand over her heart, tossed down the full glass of rum, and wad­dled men­ac­ing­ly back to­ward Re­mo. “You do that, white boy?” she growled.

“Come on, Sidonie. Why would I do that?”

She pressed her face close to his, rum fumes in­vad­ing his nos­trils like bay­onets. “Maybe un­der­neath that soft white skin, you a mad dog.” She lift­ed an eye­brow.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Maybe she lie?”

“Oh, good grief,” Re­mo said.

“Maybe she like it.” She smiled wicked­ly.

“Sidonie.” Fa­bi­enne’s voice brought the huge wom­an run­ning. Re­mo ex­haled grate­ful­ly.

“Who do this to you, girl?” she asked, press­ing the girl’s face in­to her mam­moth bo­som. “You tell Sidonie, she go­ing fix his butt good.”

Fa­bi­enne coughed to bring her voice above a whis­per. “It was the mute, Sidonie. The Dutch­man’s mute.”

The black wom­an’s eyes closed as she sucked in air nois­ily. With two fin­gers she gave the sign of the Evil Eye to ward off demons.

“You know I’m get­ting tired of all this crap,” Re­mo said. “Any men­tion of this Dutch­man char­ac­ter around here, and ev­ery­one gets scared out of their bloomers. It is to puke.”

“Do not mock him,” Sidonie warned. “He hear you. He is the Evil One. He knows.”

“Oh, bull fat,” Re­mo said. “I’m go­ing up to that cas­tle on the moun­tain to­day and haul that mute, or what­ev­er he is, down to the po­lice sta­tion. And if the Dutch­man doesn’t like it, I’m go­ing to pop his cork.”

“Do not speak so quick­ly, Re­mo.” Chi­un stood be­hind him, glit­ter­ing in a cer­emo­ni­al robe of teal-​blue bro­cade.

“See, he know,” Sidonie said, grav­itat­ing to­ward Chi­un, whom she show­ered with af­fec­tion­ate pats and clucks. “You look re­al fine to­day, Mr. Chi­un,” she said sweet­ly. She turned back to Re­mo, scowl­ing. “This white boy, he come out wear­ing a tow­el around them skin­ny legs, him with a girl in his bed.”

“I wish I could have been spared the sight,” Chi­un said.

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