The Knave of Diamonds by Jack Karney

Author:Jack Karney [Karney, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Historical, mystery
ISBN: 9781479460571
Google: _ex8EAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2022-07-17T12:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

I LIVED ON West 65th Street, the four-story house on the corner. I’d been living there a lot of good and bad years, ever since Mom had died ten years ago. I had a three-room furnished apartment. Sometimes I’d fix myself up a nice meal in the small kitchen, but nine times out of ten, I ate outside, where the atmosphere wasn’t so dreary, where I could see people, listen to them, play a juke box.

I stopped in the corner coffee pot for a plate of bacon and eggs, two cups of coffee, and a couple rolls; then I went upstairs.

The minute I pushed my door open I should have known something was wrong. I usually never left the fire escape window open even a few inches, not in this neighborhood where kids climbed into apartments and walked off with everything movable. I looked at the window. It was open five inches, but my tired brain could not grasp its significance.

The couch looked up at me beckoningly. I told it to wait. I got the deck of cards out of my pocket and the extra eight of clubs. At the moment I was too tired to look at cards. I opened my desk drawer and dropped them inside, then tossed in the blue chip. I locked the drawer and returned my key wallet to my hip pocket. I dropped my hat and coat across a club chair. About to go into my bedroom, I detoured to go for a drink. The kitchen clock said nine-twenty. I gulped down two glasses of water, refilled the water tumbler and returned it inside the frigidaire. I headed for the bedroom, and by the time I got there, I had my shirt and tie in my hands.

I took one step inside the room, and the ceiling came down on my head and broke into a million pieces of dirty light. I went down on hands and knees. I reached for the bed to pull myself up. Then I changed my mind and went to pick up my shirt and tie. A sob escaped my lips as the rest of the ceiling exploded before my eyes and the floor came up with a rush.

I was on the bottom of a black inkwell, trying to fight my way up to the top so I could look out. Somebody kept kicking me in the ribs. I couldn’t breathe and my head and sides hurt. I curled up in a corner, hoping that sleep, that miraculous opiate, would cure my ailments.

Years later I lifted heavy eyelids. I was flat on my back, and all I could hear was someone’s hoarse, irregular breathing. I lay there, wondering who was in the room with me. I held my breath and the hoarse sound stopped. I began to breathe again, and I said to hell with it, it’s me, Jim Breen, doing all the inhaling and exhaling. I pushed myself up, groaning with the effort. Every part of me hurt. That dream of somebody kicking my ribs had been no part of my imagination.

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.