Dead Man Walker Read Online Free Page B

don’t think we’re good enough for the likes of you, is that it?”
    â€œYou’re fine. Terrific. Is a half hour up yet?” I held my breath, turned the doorknob, and went weak with relief when it opened. I slipped outside, hightailing it around to the street. Crowds of tourists with maps and cameras never looked so good.
    I jumped into the Chevy, not even bothering to open the door. I sucked in a deep steadying breath then headed for my office over on Columbia Square, ecstatic at the thought of going to work. I kept one eye on the traffic and one on my rearview mirror, watching for male octogenarians with loaded weaponry coming after me. I parked the Chevy and climbed the stone steps to my office. Mondays and me never got along and after this morning, I gave serious thought to tearing all the Mondays off the calendar for the rest of the year.
    â€œWhere have you been?” Dinky yelped, scrambling from behind her desk as I walked in. Like any good secretary she thrust a wad of notepaper at me. “Mercedes wanted to know if you were here yet and something about the marines. Steffy Lou Adkins can meet for a few minutes tomorrow morning at the Plantation Club to talk about the theater fund-raiser but as you might expect the poor girl’s in a complete tizzy over her father-in-law being dead as a fence post.” Dinky stopped with the notes and cut her eyes in my direction. “You? The Plantation Club?”
    â€œSteffy Lou’s a member.”
    â€œThere’s something else you’re not saying and nothing good’s coming from it. For Pete’s sake wear a jacket, it’s the rules, and try real hard not to deck anyone, there’s not enough in petty cash right now to go bailing you out.” Dinky made the sign of the cross and flipped to the next note.
    â€œDetective Ross called saying she’s throwing you in the clink if you stole her last doughnut, and you’re due in court in fifteen minutes to get Sister Mary Louise out of another speeding ticket. Lead Foot Louise is trying to get to heaven the fast way if you ask me.”
    â€œDo we have any coffee brewed up?”
    â€œPot’s full.”
    Sexist or not I gave Dinky a kiss on the cheek. She’d been with me for five years, saved my recently pinched butt more times than I could count, and seemed to have an in with the man upstairs.
    I took care of business, and by seven I’d had enough of Monday and headed for Abe’s on Lincoln, the dive watering hole of Savannah regulars. The place had low ceilings, wood tables, smoky jazz, and a well-stocked bar. I decided to hoof it there since parking was a nightmare at this time of night and a red vintage convertible a moving target that even Anna and Bella’s husbands couldn’t miss. I took Habersham and cut through Warren Square, the dim lamplight peeking through the trees and moss swaying in the breeze.
    â€œDawg,” Big Joey said to me as I slipped onto a stool next to his, everyone in the place giving Big Joey space. “Know you’d show.” Big Joey was built like a Mack truck, muscles buffed to jet black, gold tooth, ponytail, the main man of the Seventeenth Street gang . . . my former home and forever family. He was my brother in every sense of the word except parental commonality.
    â€œNot exactly your hood,” I said to Big Joey as Bobby Lee put down a fresh beer in front of him without being asked, and poured my usual bourbon, the slim bottle and Woodford label catching my eye. Adkins and I didn’t have much in common, heck we had nothing in common except mutual dislike, Mercedes, and an appreciation for fine drink.
    â€œThings blew up at Adkins’s, you in the mix,” Joey said, his voice low and blending into the surrounding chatter. “One mean dude. Deep pockets, always up in your grill dishing dirt. I’m smellin’ trouble. You cool?”
    â€œAw, you’re worried about