The Devil Met a Lady: A Toby Peters Mystery (Book Seventeen) (Toby Peters Mysteries) by Stuart M. Kaminsky

Author:Stuart M. Kaminsky [Kaminsky, Stuart M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2011-12-13T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

This the joker?” the face in front of me said.

“Yeah,” came a familiar dry voice from behind the face a few inches from my nose, breathing hellfire and garlic.

“Never saw him before,” said the guy in front of me.

About this time I realized I was on my back and there was no sky beyond this guy who had never seen me before. There was only a white ceiling with a white glass fixture over a bright bulb.

“Take your time, Mr. Braddock,” the voice said.

“Said I never saw him before,” Braddock said, standing up.

Now I could see the guy with the dry voice. My brother Phil was sitting in a chair near the bed I was on. His head was bent forward and he was rubbing the bridge of his nose. A bad sign.

“Thank you, Mr. Braddock,” Phil said.

“If I’d seen him before, I’d remember,” Braddock said. “Face like that. I’d remember.”

“Thank you, Mr. Braddock,” Phil repeated, still rubbing his nose.

“What I want to know is why?” asked Braddock, turning to Phil, standing over him. “I want to know why and I want to know who’s paying. And I goddamn sure want to know now. Sonofabitch goes loony nuts, tears holes in my house. I got a right.”

“We’ll get back to you, Mr. Braddock,” said Phil softly.

I wanted to warn him, but decided it might be better if Phil focused his ire on Old Man Braddock rather than on me.

“Not good enough,” said Braddock, leaning over Phil.

I was propped up on two pillows in the hospital bed and I could see that Braddock was big, old but big.

“Mr. Braddock,” Phil said, taking his hand from his face and removing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweating palm. “I have a rotten temper. I also have a headache. I think you should get the hell out of here before my temper and headache get together. We’ll get back to you.”

“Braddock,” I said. It came out as a sandy croak. “Run for the door. Save your life.”

“What the hell do you know about it?” Braddock asked, turning to me.

“He’s my brother,” I said.

Braddock looked back at Phil and then at me.

“That beats all,” he said. “That just about beats all. Cops and robbers holding hands. I’m gonna see Al Farlant. Believe you me. Al Farlant will hear about this in the hour.”

Braddock stomped out of my hospital room and slammed the door. I missed him before the room stopped rattling. There was no one between Phil and me.

“Who the hell is Al Farlant?” I asked.

“Who gives a shit?” said Phil.

“Where’s Seidman?” I asked.

“It’s six in the morning,” said Phil, looking at me with tired, red eyes. “We finished our shift at two. I got to bed at three and took the call about you at five. Seidman is sleeping.”

Phil walked closer to the bed and looked down at me. He shook his head in disgust.

“What?” I asked.

“Bruise on the left cheek. Bruises on half your ribs. Cuts … Someone worked you hard, Toby, but nothing’s broken.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.