Bullet Beach Read Online Free PDF Page B

for tough guys, it seems.’
    Cross tried to smile, but the only thing that was about to brighten his day was the pancakes, eggs and sausage coming his way. Kowalksi ordered Mama Dufour’s French Toast.
    â€˜What are you planning to do?’ Kowalski asked.
    â€˜Talk to the guy who owned the Town Car, find out who was in the trunk and, I hope, what they’d done to get there.’
    â€˜Where to?’ Kowalski asked as they stepped out on to Washington Street.
    â€˜I need to get to a car. Can you drop me at the car lot?’
    It was a straight shot east on Washington, the main east/west thoroughfare crossing dead center Indianapolis and a demarcation some saw as the real Mason-Dixon line. Though it didn’t take long, and as exhilarating as it was, Cross was glad to be off the Harley. His legs were a little shaky. It was a little like riding a horse except for the weird buzz between his legs. And it was just a little too intimate for Cross.
    Edelman was outside talking to a uniformed cop who stood by the area where the Town Car had been parked and where Slurpy met his end. There was yellow crime tape around an empty space. Someone was playing by the rules even if the rules made no sense, which was one of the reasons Cross was no longer a cop. Edelman glanced up, his face, below a strongly receding hairline, gave nothing away. If he was worried, or scared, or happy, or pissed, you’d have to deduce the mood from very subtle changes in his voice.
    When Edelman turned toward Cross, the cop meandered away and eventually into a row of cars.
    â€˜What went down last night?’ Edelman asked, his eyes following Kowalksi’s loud Harley departure.
    â€˜You tell me,’ Cross said.
    â€˜Don’t know. You were there.’
    â€˜I went where you sent me. So tell me, how did I end up driving a car with two dead people in the trunk?’
    Edelman lit a cigarette and began walking toward an area in back of the office, maybe, Cross thought, to distance them further from the cop.
    â€˜Look, I call Wilbert Morgan about the payments. He says he can’t. Says as soon as he gets back from Memphis or Chattanooga or something in a couple of weeks, he’ll have something for me. I ask him when he’s leaving. He says ‘tomorrow,’ which was the next day. I want the car back before it gets lost in some fucking bayou somewhere. So I call you.’
    Edelman took a hit off his cigarette, stared at Cross and continued.
    â€˜Now I stop knowing what happened and now you start knowing what I don’t know.’
    Edelman shook his head, flipped the burning ash with a finger and rubbed the end on the bottom of his shoe. He held the stub in his hand, no doubt to dispose of it in a proper receptacle.
    â€˜I need a car,’ Cross said.
    â€˜Use the one you were using. The Audi.’
    â€˜The police have it.’
    â€˜Why?’ Edelman asked, curtly.
    â€˜Maybe I shot two kids, put them in the Audi before transferring them to the Lincoln.’
    â€˜So now,’ Edelman said, ‘I don’t have the Town Car. I don’t have the Audi. And you want another car. That’s three cars because of you. What’s going to be left on the lot, sport?’
    â€˜You have to be kidding,’ Cross said.
    â€˜Our deal was one car at a time,’ he said, as he turned to leave.
    Cross grabbed Edelman’s shoulder.
    â€˜Don’t fuck with me,’ Cross said, almost surprised at the harshness in his voice.
    Edelman turned back. He looked a little taken, then wary.
    â€˜You threatening me?’ Edelman asked.
    â€˜Look, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be facing murder charges.’
    Edelman’s smile was bitter, but he said nothing.
    â€˜You think I’m not serious? I’m facing two murder charges. What’s one more?’
    Edelman relented. ‘Look around. No Hondas. Take something nobody wants.’ Edelman walked away, stopped