Larry Kent 657 Cry Blood, Baby by Don Haring

Author:Don Haring [Haring, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery books, crime novels, piccadilly publishing, private eye mystery, don haring, larry kent detective, hard boiled detective novel
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Wake up, Kent. Come on, rise and shine.”

Bagley had me by the arm and was shaking me. “Sure,” I said. “Sure.” I slid along the seat and followed Bagley out.

But we weren’t at Central Headquarters.

We were at the City Morgue.

Chapter 6 … think crimson …

Coates was waiting in the “cool room” with a white-uniformed morgue attendant. The little inspector stood beside a sheet-draped figure on a wheeled table.

“Sorry to have to bother you again so soon,” Coates said with a gentleness that was foreign to the nature of the man. “I want you to look at someone.” He nodded in the direction of the covered figure.

My eyes followed the outline of the corpse. A woman. My knees threatened to buckle and it was suddenly hard to breathe. I made a silent vow. If Eleanor was under that sheet, then I’d track Lagusta down and put a dum-dum bullet in his belly. And then I’d go after Brink. Because, if she was under that sheet, then Lagusta and Brink knew who’d done it, and why.

“All right,” Coates said.

The attendant gripped a corner of the sheet. I set myself for it. He lifted the sheet. My eyes blurred. For one terrible moment I was looking into Eleanor’s face, through a haze, the way it is when I try to form a picture of her in my mind. But then the scene cleared and I was looking at someone else.

“Can you identify her?” Coates asked.

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“No chance it’s Eleanor Gesualdi?”

“There’s a superficial likeness, but it’s not her.”

Coates nodded to the attendant, who replaced the sheet. Coates walked away a few paces and I followed.

“She was fished out of the Hudson, upstream, just north of the Tappan Zee bridge. The coroner says she’s been dead for about two days. No identification. I put out an all-points on Stanley Brink. I want him to come here for an identification. Not that I don’t take your word for it.”

“I understand.”

“You look pale. Could you stand a drink?” He smiled at my open mouth. “It may come as a surprise, Kent, but there are times when I even pat children on the head. And at Christmas I send cards out. Not many, but I send cards. There’s a saloon down the street.”

“I could stand a drink, Inspector.”

“Fine.” He turned to Bagley. “I’ll be at Rudy’s Bar. If anything comes through, get me there.”

“Yes, sir,” Bagley said. “By the way, sir, Kent had an interesting visitor—Raphael Lagusta.”

Coates’ bald head jerked around. “That a fact?”

“I meant to tell you about it, Inspector.”

“You can do that over a drink.”

Not five minutes later, there was a double rye inside me. Scotch for pleasure, rye for effect. Coates nursed a Dubonnet on the rocks with a twist of lemon.

“Let’s have it,” he said after the bartender poured my second double.

I told him about Lagusta’s visit, leaving nothing out. Coates nodded every now and then, had a sip of his drink. When I was finished he had some nods left but no Dubonnet. Nor did I have any scotch.

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