CAPRIATI'S BLOOD (ALTON RHODE MYSTERIES Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

at me but stopped when he saw what I was holding. Not the sandwich; the gun in my other hand.
    “Am I going to have a problem with you?” He shook his head. “Didn’t think so. Now, I get to ask a question. Why so curious about what Rahm and I were talking about?”
    Benny had his hands at his throat and seemed to have trouble breathing. I hoped I hadn’t over-quelled him. If I’d broken his windpipe he could be in serious trouble. I was out of practice. It’s been a while since a woman Marine Gunnery Sergeant running an unarmed combat class taught me the move. She was quite attractive, but none of us in the class ever asked her out. Benny made a sound like a turkey call. But his face wasn’t purple and the animal sounds were a good sign. But maybe thug No. 2 didn’t know that.
    “We can stand here all day in the rain while Benny asphyxiates. I can always heat this sandwich up later.”
    Benny made a timely “awk awk” sound and sank to his knees. The other guy caved.
    “We were just told to see who he talks to. He’s been going to the Red lately. Never saw you before today.” Benny continued to provide sound effects. “C’mon, man. He’s dying. Give me a break. He’s my cousin.”
    That complicated things. Gun or no, the guy might make a rash move with a relative in danger, so I decided to let it go.
    “Want me to call 911?”  He shook his head again. “OK. Your cuz will probably be all right, but get him to an emergency room in case his throat starts swelling. Vamoose.”
    I waved my gun to prod him and he bent to help Benny stand. They trundled off down the street. I holstered the Taurus and went on my way. A couple of Somali guys across the street looked at me. They’d seen the whole thing. I hoped they caught my sandwich grab in mid-air. Even I was impressed.
    When I got back to my building I dropped off one of the heroes at the security desk and Abby Jones said, “A couple of cable guys are in your office.” Multiple cable guys? Abby had real clout.
    There was a pile of mail just inside my door. I picked it up just as the cable guys came out of my office. One of them was sucking the back of his hand. I could see blood.
    “I told him he shoulda moved the cactus,” the other one said.
    I gave them each $20. I was going to need a separate line of credit soon just for tips.
    After they left, I sat at my desk and went through the mail as I ate my lunch. There was a thick, glossy envelope from Omaha Steaks (“12 free burgers”). I looked at the envelope with something approaching affection. I admired the company’s persistence. One of the brochures had even followed me into combat, although the enclosed offer had expired by the time I got it. Indeed, I had almost expired.
    There were also assorted bills, an offer to join the Wall Street Journal Wine Club, four credit card solicitations, a menu from a nearby Chinese restaurant and a magazine: Gay Lifestyle . I threw everything but the bills in the trash, including the magazine. I’d subscribed to it by mistake when filling out a form to trade frequent flier miles for various publications. Gay Lifestyle was listed just above Golf Lifestyle . The type was small, although the scotch I’d mixed with my pain meds might have had more to do with it, since I was also now getting New Zealand Life, Archery Unlimited and Muscle Car. I was beginning to enjoy those, but I’d tried to stop the other subscription. There is nothing wrong with a gay private eye, but the magazine was left outside my door where all the secretaries on the floor could see it. One even came by to ask my opinion on decorating her apartment!
    I took off my jacket, dropped my gun in the drawer and got a Coke from a small refrigerator sitting by its lonesome in a corner without plants. I dug into my eggplant hero, which was everything it should have been.

CHAPTER 3 – ELLEN JAMES
     
    A week later, I was watching two Moran tugboats shepherd the Yokahama Maru up the Narrows when the