A Real Gone Guy by Frank Kane

Author:Frank Kane [Kane, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440540295
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1984-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

No. 42 Devon Street turned out to be a two story nondescript brick house one block off Eleventh Street in the Village. Across the street a now doused electric sign announced the location of Nicky Green’s Cellar.

Johnny Liddell stopped in front of the shuttered Cellar, appeared to be studying the flyspecked photos enclosed in the glass case next to the entrance. He lit a cigarette, turned and casually studied the front of No. 42.

The shades were drawn on all five windows, despite the hour. Aside from a sprinkling of cars taking a short cut through Devon to Eleventh, there was no sign of life along the street.

He flipped the freshly lit cigarette into the gutter, started across the street. He headed for No. 42, walked up the short flight of steps that led to the vestibule. Inside it was cool and dim. A row of dingy mailboxes supplied the information that Wallace was in 2-B.

The cardboard sign tacked to the hall door urged “Please Close This Door After You.” The last one in obviously didn’t believe in signs. The hallway beyond was almost dark, redolent with odors of ancient cooking and aging wood. A napless carpet ran from the door to the flight of stairs to the second floor. Liddell crossed to the stairway, climbed to the upper floor. The old house seemed to breathe softly in repose, only the sound of the floor boards creaking under his feet disturbed the quiet.

Two-B was a front apartment. He knocked softly. When there was no response he knocked again. After a moment, the almost overpowering smell of cheap perfume signaled the opening of the door.

“You’re awful early. Don’t you think a girl’s got to sleep?” a husky voice complained. She pushed the door open. “As long as you’re here, you might as well come in.”

Liddell shrugged, stepped in. The woman closed the door behind them, he heard a lock snap.

“We don’t want an audience, do we?” The husky voice made an attempt at lightness. Liddell could hear her slippered feet scuffing along the uncarpeted floor toward a room beyond. She pulled the chain on a bridge lamp in the corner, spilled a circle of yellow light into the semidarkness of the room.

She was tall, the sloppily tied kimono couldn’t conceal the fact that her breasts were full, her hips well rounded. Her eyes, though, were hard, heavily underlined with make-up while the rest of her face was blotchy with old, caked powder. Her lipstick was a red, uneven smear across her face, her brassy-colored hair was piled high on her head. On her right cheek a puckered purplish scar ran from her eye to the corner of her mouth.

She stared at Liddell for a moment, unconsciously turned the scarred side away from him. “I don’t know you, do I, honey?” Her right hand crept to her cheek, covered the scar.

“We have mutual friends,” Liddell told her.

She looked around the littered room, brushed a rumpled copy of a morning tab off one of the chairs.

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.