Kiss Her Goodbye: A Mike Hammer Novel

Author:Mickey Spillane & Max Allan Collins
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780151014606
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2011-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Alex Jaynor was listed in the Manhattan directory, an address on East Fifty-third Street. I took a chance on his being home and dialed from a pay phone around the corner. On the third ring, the phone was picked up and a smooth voice said, “Hello, Alex Jaynor here.”

I had to grin at the way he merchandised his greeting.

“Hi, kid,” I said. “Mike Hammer here.”

“Hey, Mike—where are you?”

“Damn near on your doorstep. You have time to talk to me or are you busy?”

“Not at all. Come on up—or would you rather meet someplace?”

“I’ll come up,” I said, and cradled the phone.

The building was an old one, but nicely refurbished, the kind of place up-and-coming people used until they got to the top of the ladder where penthouses became their style. Meanwhile, they lived in quiet opulence with a gray-haired doorman who had a genuine Irish accent. I gave him Alex’s name, he let me in, then pointed to the elevator in the lobby. “Apartment 4-C, sir.”

I thanked him, went upstairs, found 4-C, and pushed the buzzer. The tall, sandy-haired politician came to the door grinning, holding his hand out, and practically pulled me inside. He was in a dark blue shirt without a tie and navy slacks, casual but crisp.

“Good to see you again, Mike. This is a nice surprise.”

“Really?”

“Not often I have a living legend stepping over the threshold.”

I had to laugh at that one. “Never mind about legend—I’m just glad to be living.” I followed him in. “Anyway, Doolan was the legendary one, not me. I always felt I walked in his shadow.”

“Well, having known the man, I can understand that. Make you a drink?”

“A CC and ginger will do it.”

“Coming right up.”

While he built the drinks at a wet bar, I took a look around. The apartment was a small world of rust-stained wood, modern and high-ceilinged, with open stairs going up to a loft-style bedroom. The kitchen was tucked under the loft and was small, metallic, and utilitarian—nobody in Manhattan seemed to think much about eating in, at least in this part of town.

There were doors off to a spare bedroom and a little study, but—with its comfortable leather chairs and sofa, and functional glass-and-metal tables—mostly the apartment had the feel of one big room, a masculine refuge from the world.

Alex handed me my drink and said, “Like the digs?”

“You got it made, kiddo. Good address, too.”

“Doolan found it for me about a month after we met. How he found it, I’ll never know. It’s still a little expensive, but I’m making the nut now.”

I said, “Cheers,” and sipped the highball.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” He pointed to a dark brown leather chair and matching sofa and he took the former while I settled onto the latter. I tossed my hat on the glass-and-metal coffee table separating us.

“You know, Alex, I wish I could lay a question out that made sense, but what I want to know is—what was going on with Doolan in the last, say, six months of his life?”

“Not sure I follow.

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.