Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) Read Online Free PDF Page B

satisfy him for the moment. He took
the glass and sat in the ancient wingback, right leg crossed over the left,
right arm dangling. A picture of worn out and ground down.
    Debating beer or bourbon, I solved that little
dilemma by chugging the dregs in the can and then pouring a generous dollop
into the only other clean glass I owned. I liked it neat but with the temps
still hovering in the too hot to sleep region, ice cubes seemed like a good
deal.
    Dropping onto the couch, I leaned back, propped my
legs on the coffee table and waited for the shoe to drop.
    If DNA could squirm, mine was doing a rhumba right
down at the cellular level.
    Sipping quietly, my sometime friend stared at the
ancient plaster, as if the lines and cracks had a message of hope and salvation
writ small. Or a clue.
    My money was on a clue. A sure bet would make that
me. He had to know I’d been there. At Haven. The night the underage girl’d been
sippy-cupped dry. The one keeping me company at the bar.
    I tensed as he prepared to speak, but he surprised
me with, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
    That got my attention. And it pulled a little Hail
Mary from the better-safe-than-sorry closet. Tom and the missus had been doing
the temporary separation tango. Bad for him. Good for me.
    I said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it. “You can crash
here if you want. Couch is crap but it’s better than the floor.” That was as
far as I was willing to go.
    “I, uh, don’t want to put you out…”
    “Da nada.”
    I went to scoot off the couch and see to some bedding,
but he held up his right hand and stopped me in my tracks.
    “It’s more than just a visit, Micah. I need to ask
you some questions. About Saturday night.”
    What happened in the alley beside Haven was clearly
out of his precinct, but the other three incidents weren’t. I’d guess someone
higher in the food chain was looking to departmental co-operation for the
investigation. O’Hearn wasn’t senior… but he was the best. He had instincts and
they’d led him to my doorstep.
    There was no point in playing games with him. We
went back a long way, growing up in the same neighborhood, butting heads,
drinking each other under a table. He taught me to fight and then to fight
back. When he’d had enough of his old man, he’d left, taking his mother with
him. I didn’t have that option, never even considered it. That hole in my life
got filled with Catrina, to the point where nothing and nobody mattered.
    Except for Tom. He was one of the reasons I cleaned
up and went straight after mustering out of the army.
    O’Hearn was an older brother, not by blood, but in
all the ways that counted. And most of the time he was on my side.
    He ran the same hand that stopped me cold through
graying brown hair long overdue for a trim. He was pushing forty going on fifty,
his middle showing signs of paunch and with nose and complexion testaments to
his Irish genes. Pouchy, sad eyes surveyed the living room, seeking answers
that would satisfy his bosses yet leave us with our relationship intact.
    I decided to get the ball rolling because I needed
control over the questioning. I owed him answers. Just… not the truth. At least,
not the kind of truth twisting my gut in a knot.
    “It’s the case I’m working on.” I pointed to the
pile of papers on the counter. “I was following a hunch. It took me to Brighton
Beach.” That wouldn’t require much explanation. If you were looking for answers,
you started where the working girls parked their stiletto heels and re-tooled
for another round.
    Tom still lifted an eyebrow.
    “The one in the tub, Svetlana?” Tom was the one
who’d okayed me getting up close and personal with the bizarre crime scene.
“She was into kink, big time. I figured I’d find out more if I hung out at one
of her play stations.”
    “Haven.” He said it with some distaste. Apparently
he was familiar with the entertainment options.
    The man was a straight-up, God-fearing,