Body Blows Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrapped in a big hug. He looks right at home.
    â€œI’d forgotten what a great place this is,” he says.
    â€œI’ve got an elevator waiting, sir,” I say.
    â€œLet’s stick around for a nightcap, shall we?” he says. “Olive’s going to play my favourite tune.”
    â€œWhich one is that, sugar?”
    â€œAny number you sing will automatically become my favourite,” says Leo.
    He commandeers a table near the bandstand, Vivienne returns from the powder room with her aplomb adjusted, Olive May and her bass player, the stalwart Jimmy Hinds, ease their way into a medley of Cole Porter perennials, and Connie Gagliardi is tugging my coat.
    â€œEverything okay, big guy?” she asks.
    â€œLooks like,” I say. “For now, anyway.”
    â€œWhat spooked you?”
    â€œMissing ponytail. Could’ve been a shift change. Probably a logical explanation. Maybe he had a haircut. Maybe he lost his rubber band. I didn’t need to find out.”
    â€œI mean before that. When you came looking for us.”
    â€œBad practical joke.” I notice that I’ve started whispering out of the side of my mouth, bending closer. “Someone defaced Leo’s award.”
    â€œOh, that’s terrible,” she says. “Graffiti, bad words, what?”
    â€œA hole. Right through the eye.”
    â€œWow. Nasty.”
    â€œSolid bronze. Must’ve used a drill press.”
    â€œOr a .44 Magnum,” says Connie Gagliardi the nascent war correspondent. I worry about her. I’m going to buy her some Kevlar for Christmas. Maybe sooner than that.
    Gritch returns from wherever he’s been. “Who’s got a .44 Magnum?”
    â€œDirty Harry,” she says.
    â€œYou find out anything?” I ask.
    â€œLimo service says the guy hasn’t checked in yet. Name’s —” he looks at a piece of paper. “— Starr. Dimitar Starr. Reliable driver, supposedly, been there five months.”
    â€œMaurice booked the limo,” I say. “Check with him. See if we’ve used this outfit before.”
    Olive swings into “You’re the Tops.”
    â€œLook at him,” I say. “We’ll never get him out of here.”
    Leo and Vivienne are sipping brandy while Olive sings to them. Ms. Saunders has adopted the tolerant air of a slumming duchess but Leo is in his element. He’s enjoying himself. For the first time tonight he looks relaxed. I’d been aware of a constant hum of tension all evening but assumed that I was the one generating it. I can see now that attending the ceremony required an act of courage on Leo’s part.
    Vivienne has demurred on the offer of a further nightcap in Leo’s lair and I’m escorting her to a taxi. I could have given Gritch the chore, but after insisting that Leo stay inside, he asked me as a personal favour to make sure his date was sent safely on her way. Andrew has signalled up a slightly spiffier vehicle than Josip’s cab and is holding the door.
    â€œDo you tango, Mr. Grundy?” Vivienne asks.
    â€œNot according to Ms. Gagliardi,” I say.
    She sniffs at the name. Her night hasn’t unfolded as smoothly as it might have. She gives me a thin-lipped smile and takes the fifty-dollar bill. Cab fare.
    Andrew looks me up and down. “That’s a splendid suit,” he says.
    â€œHope it likes mothballs,” I say.
    A large man is weaving across the street in my direction.
    â€œDidn’t waste any time, did she?” he yells at the departing taxi.
    â€œWho would that be, sir?” I ask.
    â€œMy slut wife,” he says. “You the new one? Hope you’ve got lots of money. She likes money.”
    He’s on my sidewalk now, close enough to breathe bourbon on my face.
    â€œI assume you’re referring to Ms. Saunders,” I say.
    â€œShit!” he says with disgust. “Saunders already, is it?