Come Die with Me Read Online Free

but it hadn’t been the first time. There wasn’t any business anyway; all I had really wasted was gas. I decided to tell Mrs. Malone I had learned nothing.
    The sun grew hotter and the afternoon brighter. I read the sport pages and wrote out a check for my light bill at the apartment and went to the window to look at the new, bright day.
    I was looking at it when the door from the hall opened. I turned and saw the pair of them, both tanned, both expensively and badly dressed, both silently malignant. They closed the door quietly and stared at me.
    I sighed and shook my head. “This is what ruined the picture business.”
    “What is?” the one on the right asked.
    “This cliché scene. A poor but strong private peeper looking down at the traffic from his second-floor office and the door opening and a couple of hoodlums walking in without so much as a how-do-you-do. This is what makes me resent my trade, these repetitive scenes of imminent violence.”
    The one on the left smiled. “What makes you think we’re hoodlums? Do we look like hoodlums? Threads like we’re wearing? You look like the hoodlum, with that wrinkled ready made of yours.”
    “I apologize,” I said. “You are a couple of nuclear physicists who dropped in to kick around a new theory. Sit down, boys, and we’ll crack an atom together.”
    The taller one, the one on the right, laughed and said, “Look, Rock, my name is Pete Petroff. This is my brother Dave.”
    I came back to the desk, extended a hand across it and they both shook it, genially and in turn. I sat down and Pete sat down. Dave stood next to him.
    He opened a new pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I told him I didn’t smoke. He lighted one and blew some smoke toward the ceiling and asked, “Have you ever heard of us?”
    I nodded. “Gamblers. Didn’t you have a piece of one of those Vegas sucker traps, one of the lusher ones?”
    Pete said, “That’s right. The Comstock Jewel. We sold out our share two months ago. We might even retire.”
    “Congratulations,” I said. “You must have saved your money. You’re both young.”
    Dave Petroff, the shorter one who was still standing, looked at his brother and frowned. Pete didn’t seem to notice.
    Dave asked, “Why so snotty? What’s your beef?”
    “It’s general,” I said. “Not specific. My dad was a cop and he was killed by a hoodlum.”
    Pete said sharply, “For Christ’s sake, we’re not hoodlums! Are all gamblers hoodlums?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    Pete stared at me. Dave looked at the top of my desk. I stared back at Pete. Finally he sighed and said, “Okay, we’ll go quietly.” He stood up. “We came to reason with you. We were warned that wasn’t easy but figured nobody could be as ornery as your reputation.” He shrugged. “The punk is really nothing to us, anyway.”
    They were just about to the door when I asked, “What punk?”
    Pete turned and said, “Tip Malone. He asked us if we would talk to you. It was his idea.”
    “What did he want you to talk about?”
    Pete said, “About this afternoon. About you dropping in and seeing him in Frank’s apartment. That’s no good for a jock, you know.”
    “That’s not what he’s worried about,” I said.
    “So, all right. So the broad was there. You going to tell Tip’s wife that?”
    “Probably not,” I said. “I didn’t take the money she offered me so I wasn’t really working for her. I don’t handle divorce work.”
    Pete’s smile was back. Even Dave looked happier. Pete said. “Tip suggested we slip you half a C. Fair enough?”
    “No charge,” I said. “Tell him to rest easy.”
    They both stood there staring. Finally Pete said, “You wouldn’t take her money and you won’t take his. Where’s your pay-off?”
    I tapped my heart. “In here, boys, in here. And upstairs, when I get there, through those pearly gates. That’s the big pay-off, boys.”
    “Come on, Callahan,” Pete said. “Level with us. Frank paying