Client: Mafia (Book #773) by Larry Kent

Author:Larry Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder mystery, detective novels, hard boiled crime, crime adventure, piccadilly publishing, don haring, larry kent
Publisher: Piccadilly

They were waiting for me, standing halfway up the outside steps of my apartment building after I garaged my car; Lt. Bruce Comstock and Sgt. Blunt. They weren’t smiling.

“We’ll go up with you,” Comstock said.

“Fine,” I said. “There I was feeling lonely as hell, and now I have you gentlemen to keep me company.”

Blunt made a noise in his throat. Comstock gave me a dirty look. I climbed the steps to the vestibule and walked along the hallway and then climbed the stairs with the two of them right behind me. On the landing I took out my keys and worked on the three door locks.

“I saw something fall to the floor,” Blunt said.

“Forget it,” I said. It was the brown circle of cardboard I always wedge between the door and the jamb when leaving the apartment. If the brown circle isn’t there I know that someone has entered my apartment during my absence. Now it was on the carpet. Brown door, brown circle of cardboard, brown carpet, all exactly the same shade of brown.

“Would you like a drink, gentlemen?” I asked as I closed the door behind them.

“This is not a friendly call,” Comstock said.

“Oh?”

“You carry a gun, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” I lifted my .45 from its holster and handed the gun to Comstock.

“I guess you’ve got a license to carry this,” Comstock said.

“Had it renewed a couple of weeks ago. Want to see the piece of paper?”

“No.”

Comstock’s eyes flicked to Blunt. I turned to look at the sergeant. Too late. His right fist got bigger and bigger until it blotted out my vision of everything else. I had just enough time to twist my head a few inches before Blunt’s fist exploded against my jaw. The weight of his big body was behind the blow and it was that more than the punch itself that made me sit down on my carpet. Blunt steadied himself and then he left-hooked me to the other side of the jaw and I went down on my left side. Bells rang and a midget worked a jackhammer in my brain. Blunt reached down, smiling. He grabbed a handful of my coat and shirt and hauled me to my feet. He pulled me towards himself and threw a right hand at the same time. His fist got me on the point of the jaw and all the lights in the world went out.

Something cold hit me in the face. I looked up and saw two Blunts standing above me, each with one of my cooking pots in his right hand. The two Blunts merged into one. There was some water left in the pot. He poured it over my face.

“Wake up, darling,” Blunt said.

“Cops,” I said. I was going to add: “aren’t supposed to hit people these days,” but my jaw hurt too much.

“Out of the way,” Comstock said.

Blunt moved clear and Comstock stood above me, my gun in his right hand. He said, “I want to know where you went and who you saw and why.

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