Sara Paretsky - V.I. Warshawski 04 by Bitter Medicine

Author:Bitter Medicine [Medicine, Bitter]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-05-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17 - Messing About in a Boat

The Herald-Star had a nice little story about IckPiff headlined VANDALS WRECK ABORTION FOE OFFICE. I was afraid they might relegate it to the second section, where the previous day’s haul of rapists, murderers, car wrecks, and drug busts are reported, but they tucked the lead into the bottom of the front page. Dieter Monkfish attributed the break-in to the machinations of the evil baby murderers, retaliating for the destruction of Lotty’s clinic, but the police said they’d found five drunks having a fight, flinging drawers open and throwing paper at each other.

The five men had been charged with breaking and entering, disorderly conduct, and vandalism. The story was nice and short-it didn’t include room for comments from the drunks on mysterious ladies who might have sent them up to IckPiff in the first place.

I’d gone to the corner store for the paper and some food while Peter continued to sleep off the grappa. He staggered into the kitchen as I was finishing my second cup of coffee, wearing his underpants and my bathrobe, his eyes squinted shut. He held out a hand and said piteously: “Coffee.”

I poured him a cup. “I hope you feel better than you look, General Burgoyne. Want to call off the trip to Lake Pistakee?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll be okay. I just need to get used to the idea that I’m not dead. Jesus Christ, what the hell did that guy give me last night?”

He sat morosely for a while, sipping the coffee and burying his face in its steam, shuddering at the mention of food. With a heartiness typical of the virtuous sober in the face of a friend’s hangover, I ate pita bread with swiss cheese, tomato, lettuce, and mustard. When Peter didn’t respond to the news that the Cubs had beaten the Braves in Atlanta last night-in thirteen innings-I left him huddled by the kitchen table and went into the living room to call Lotty.

“I read about this IckPiff burglary in the morning paper, Lotty. Dieter the Mad thinks it’s pro-choice monsters getting even with him for smashing up your clinic. Want me to send over the Streeter brothers to keep an eye on things in case his followers decide to come back for seconds?”

She’d read the article, too. “Just give me their number. If anyone shows up I’ll call them. You don’t know anything about this break-in, do you, Vic?”

“Me, boss? The paper says five drunks were up there getting ready for a ticker-tape parade.” I looked at the IckPiff files where Peter had perched them on the mountain of Wall Street Journals covering the coffee table.

“Yes, Vic. I can read. Also I know you. Thanks for calling-I have to run.”

I sat cross-legged on the floor with the card catalog on my lap. From the background sounds, Peter had decided to revive his life-support system in the shower. I started with the A’s. At a guess, there were six thousand names in the file.

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