Drawing Dead Read Online Free Page A

and even a computer. It has four walls and a door too. And lucky me the window looks out onto the ocean so I can drown myself if I ever feel the need. At best I’d call it a shack. Like I said I have it for two and a half days a week. Sometimes I’m here more and sometimes less but most of the time when I’m here I’m drinking, reading, or eating lunch.
     
    Still that doesn’t explain what I do though does it.
     
    The office is mostly a front. I get it cheap through a friend and have stuck with it. The location is great, right on the harbour front, salt sweet smell in the air. I can sleep here if I get drunk in Fremantle too which I considered a real bonus. I do have my detective’s license. I can and have worked legit cases. You know the shit that wanders into these places. Divorce cases, insurance fraud, teenage kid gone missing, mostly some prick trying to shitcan another. Life ruining type stuff. And sure you occasionally get to lay one of the wives whose husband you’re trailing but the money is rubbish and the workload is worse. A lot of sitting in cars with your dick in your hand while your bowel slowly but surely impacts. I run a weekly ad in a local rag and get enough calls to pick and chose what I take and what I don’t. I mostly don’t.
     
    Where the real money is and where I get most of mine is in illegal activity. And I have my fingers in many pies my friends. What I am is the guy you go to when you need something done. Need a large bet put down but can’t find a book that will take it, I’m your guy. Place to hide while you get together some scratch to pay the owe you should have never got so deep into anyway, I’m your guy. You come across a bunch of credit card numbers and you want to unload those digits for a price, you guessed it motherfucker, I’m your guy. Pretty much anything needed doing I can get it done. Really I don’t do a thing, but for the right price I’ll let you meet someone who does. On top o’that I hunt down schmucks like me who owe illegitimate bookies. Very regular gig and very good pay. You gotta wonder to yourself just how dumb a fuck can this guy be don’t ya?
     
    Fuck you.
     
    Fuck me.
     
    So as I’ve established I don’t do much in the office but drink, eat and read. That particular morning I did all three. Firstly I’d smoked a cigar on the dock out front. I smoked it hard and fast because the bourbon was singing to me from the bottom drawer and my breakfast was getting cold on the front seat of my car. But what can I tell you, I like the ocean. It gets me and always has. I like how it smells, how it looks, how it just never stops and won’t for anyone no matter what the fuck was going on in the world. You had to respect that, and fear it. I had a real urge to play the horses while I was out there smoking.
     
    Did anyone say ‘Degenerate’?
     
    I flung the dead stub in the water and said take that you cold-hearted bitch.
     
    Inside I ate and drank. Two outta three. When done I read some Henry Miller just to keep things as they should be. I checked my email and set up a meet with a legit pervert slimebucket for just after lunch. He was hunting his daughter down and I’d been working it for him and was pretty damn sure the girl was better off without him. The whole thing stunk but he paid well and was as dim-witted as his dick. After this I drank some more and laughed to myself about a couple of things Miller had said, well had written, hell it felt as though he was talking directly to me, like we were drinking together in Paris watching all the pussy saunter by. I kicked my shoes off, sat back and chatted freely to him, we were real pals me and Henry, expounding on all the important subjects, sex, death, literature, love, time, whores. We covered it all. I wanted him to play a game of chess but he said he had to leave. Great guy though, great guy.
     
    I was all set for a mid-morning nap when the goon squad showed up. I knew they’d be coming so it