House Dick by E Howard Hunt

Author:E Howard Hunt [Hunt, E Howard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857683687
Publisher: Random House Inc Clients
Published: 2011-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

11

The envelope had been at the desk as Julia Boyd had said. Now it was in his right inside coat pocket. When he moved the steering wheel his arm brushed the envelope’s slight bulge, reminding him of what lay ahead.

Connecticut Avenue traffic was scanty. A few cruising taxis, late trolleys rattling down the rails, and tourist cars with out-of-town licenses groping toward the center of the District. The black asphalt was slick with night dew, and he had to use the windshield wiper to clear off moisture.

Not a night to take long walks in the dark. He could have used some support from Morely, but the dice had rolled the other way. He wondered where Paula was. And Doc Bikel.

Chevy Chase Circle, with the bus station and the Chinese restaurant on the left. Now dark and inhospitable. Out of the District and into Maryland. Maryland, My Maryland. Let all the swains adore thee. Shoot if you must this old gray head, but spare your country’s flag, she said. A highly unlikely incident. Eat Barbara Frietchie Bagels, Pretzels, Marmalade, and Crab-burgers. Someone was coining dough off her old gray heroic head. American Enterprise.

Less than a mile to go. Not more. And no cars in a long time. Only lighted diners and beer taverns and shy on business at that. Barbara Frietchie’s Vitamin Pastrami will keep the teeth pegged in your jaw long after your neighbor’s have dropped out.

The pistol in his hip pocket prodded naggingly. He shifted on the seat, found a new position. In the rear view mirror no trailing headlights, no car parked at the roadside ready to edge out and follow. Not even highway police. Hell, they’d be in a diner dunking crullers and cracking dusty jokes with a bored waitress. Seldom around when you needed them. Like obstetricians.

A sapphire ring, a diamond bracelet and an emerald brooch. Together they shouldn’t make a parcel larger than a woman’s fist. Concentrated wealth. Ninety thousand dollars worth. Sold for a thousand cash along a dark road. By someone who didn’t have time to negotiate with the Midland Company. Someone who needed cash badly. Someone who would settle for a grand tonight in place of forty-five thousand next week. Not the most logical sort of deal. Unless the seller wasn’t planning on turning over the jewels.

Only two more blocks to the intersection. Novak slowed the Pontiac, let it idle toward the curb. He turned off the ignition, dropped the key in his pocket and turned off the lights. A southbound truck zoomed past. Food for Washington’s central market from the lush fields of southern Maryland. The dash clock showed ten minutes to two. His right hand slid inside his coat pocket, nudged the revolver and let it drop back into the holster. His license was good for the District, not Maryland. Now that he was over the line they could jug him for carrying concealed weapons. Two of them. He grinned at the darkness and got out of the car.

Locking it, he started up the road.

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