One False Move by Harlan Coben

Author:Harlan Coben [Coben, Harlan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Tags: Crime Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Literature & Fiction, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 9780754095033
Amazon: B002U3CBPC
Publisher: Nielsen BookScan
Published: 1998-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

INGLEMOORE - NO DAY LIKE TODAY.

Nice, Myron guessed, but he couldn't help but think up a more appropriate one:

INGLEMOORE - BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE.

Hmm. He'd drop it in the suggestion box on the way out.

'Mr. Bolitar?'

Deborah Whittaker shuffled into the room. She still had Le Helmet de Hair from the newspaper portrait -black as shoe polish and shellacked on until it resembled fiberglass - but the overall effect was still like something out of Dorian Gray, as though she had aged a zillion years in one fell swoop. Her eyes had that soldier's thousand-yard stare. She had a bit of a shake in her face that reminded him of Katharine Hepburn. Parkinson's maybe, but he was no expert.

Her 'friend' Becky had been the one who called his name. Becky was maybe thirty years old. She too was dressed in civilian clothes rather than whites, and while nothing about her appearance suggested nursing, Myron still thought of Louise Fletcher in One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest.

He stood.

'I'm Becky,' the nurse said.

'Myron Bolitar.'

Becky shook his hand and offered him a patronizing smile. Probably couldn't help it. Probably couldn't smile genuinely until she was out of here for at least an hour. 'Do you mind if I join you two?'

Deborah Whittaker spoke for the first time. 'Go away,' she rasped. Her voice sounded like a worn tire on a gravel road.

'Now, DeborahGCo'

'Don't "now Deborah" me. I got myself a handsome gentleman caller, and I'm not sharing him. So buzz off.'

Becky's patronizing smile turned a bit uncertain. 'Deborah,' she said in a tone that aimed for amiable but landed smack on, well, patronizing, 'do you know where we are?'

'Of course,' Deborah snapped. 'The Allies just bombed Munich. The Axis has surrendered. I'm a USO girl standing by the south pier in Manhattan. The ocean breeze hits my face. I wait for the sailors to arrive so I can lay a big, wet kiss on the first guy off the boat.'

Deborah Whittaker winked at Myron.

Becky said, 'Deborah, it's not 1945. It'sGCo'

'I know, dammit. For crying out loud, Becky, don't be so damn gullible.' She sat down and leaned toward Myron. 'Truth is, I go in and out. Sometimes I'm here. Sometimes I time travel. When my grandpa had it, they called it hardening of the arteries. When my mother ha d i t, they called it senility. With me, it's Parkinson's and Alzheimer's.' She looked at her nurse, her facial muscles still doing the quivers. 'Please, Becky, while I'm still lucid, get the hell out of my face.'

Becky waited a second, holding the uncertain smile as best she could. Myron nodded at her, and she moved away.

. Deborah Whittaker leaned a little closer. 'I love getting ornery with her,' she whispered. 'It's the only fringe benefit of old age.' She put her hands on her lap and managed a shaky smile. 'Now I know you just told me, but I forgot your name.'

'Myron.'

She looked puzzled. 'No, that's not it. Andre maybe? You look like Andre. He used to do my hair.

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