Book of Stolen Tales

Book of Stolen Tales Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: Book of Stolen Tales Read Online Free PDF
Author: D. J. McIntosh
attend to basic necessities, she rarely left her place.
    â€œJohnnie! Thought you were supposed to be in the U.K. Fantastic to hear from you, babe.”
    â€œI am in London, Corrie. I’m worried about Evelyn because I can’t reach her. Is there any way you could go over to her place and make sure she’s okay?”
    She paused. “Sure, I guess that’s all right. Do you have any particular reason to worry?”
    â€œI’ve run into a complication over here, that’s all, and I want to be sure nothing’s wrong.”
    â€œWhat complication? John, didn’t I tell you it was a mistake to accept that job when the client wouldn’t give you his name?”
    When she dropped the endearments and called me John, I knew her patience was wearing thin. “I needed the money too much, Corrie. You know how far I was stretched. That’s water under the bridge right now. I’d really appreciate it if you could check on her.” I gave her Evelyn’s address and apartment number.
    â€œOf course. Don’t think another minute about it. For heaven’s sake, keep safe yourself.”
    â€œThanks. What would I do without you? Like I said, I haven’t been able to get a hold of her yet, so please call me back as soon as you find her.”
    I wandered over to the bed and sat down, hoping I’d hear from her soon with good news. I looked at the open, empty drawer. At least I’d had the presence of mind to make sure the book was insured for the gap of time between the auction and its delivery to the solicitor. Toller Art Insurance in Manhattan maintained a twenty-four-hour line. Predictably, when I contacted them a standard recording came on.
    I lay down and stared at the old vermiculite ceiling. When my cell rang I bolted up with a start.
    It wasn’t Evelyn. I didn’t recognize the number.
    â€œAm I speaking to John Madison?”
    â€œYou are.”
    â€œThis is Detective Eleanor O’Neil with the New York Police. I believe you’re listed as the primary contact for an Evelyn Farhad in case of an emergency?”
    My pulse raced. “Yes I am. What’s wrong?”
    â€œSorry to tell you this, sir, she was found by another officer after a resident of her building called in a disturbance. She’d been assaulted and was critical when he got to her. She passed away in the ambulance en route to the hospital.”

Four

    O ’Neil paused. “Sir, are you still there? Did you hear what I said?”
    When I didn’t reply she waited. She could have waited forever and I’m not sure I could have responded. I was only vaguely aware of more words echoing through the phone before I let it drop.
    Time stretched on. The bottle of scotch was empty. I had no memory of finishing it. There was a strange buzzing in my room. A green light flashed on my bed. My cell with an incoming text. The insurance people probably. I didn’t give a shit.
    It began to rain hard again and gusts of bitter wind hammered the drops in through the open window. Part of the carpet and the back of a chair were already wet. I left it like that.
    In the bathroom I threw freezing water on my face, ran my fingers through my hair. My eyes were bloodshot. A vicious, throbbing pain punched away at my head. After throwing back a couple of Tylenol and washing them down with a drink straight from the faucet, I tossed my clothes and sundries into my bag and snapped it shut. The clock on the night table showed almost one thirty in the morning. My plan, as far as I was able to make one, was to head straight for Heathrow and take the next available flight home.
    I slammed the window shut, producing a hairline crack in the glass. The door lock clicked on my way out. I left the key card with the concierge and made my way to the underground parking lot to find my rental, getting drenched in the process but beyond caring.
    Stepping into the garish fluorescence of the car park,
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