Death Will Get You Sober: A New York Mystery; Bruce Kohler #1 (Bruce Kohler Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

right.”
    “I did his psychosocial once. It took three hours because he’d lost his dentures and I couldn’t understand a word he said.” Homeless chronic alcoholics tend to mislay their teeth. In Elwood’s case, the condition had exacerbated an already impenetrable rural drawl. “Sweet old man, though. What happened? Did somebody kill him?”
    “They only kill people on the stairs.” I wasn’t kidding. The dark stairwell had a reputation. “He had cancer. Rumor has it that he begged them not to send him to hospice because this detox was the closest thing he had to home and family.”
    “Jeez. Talk about a fate worse than death.”
    “It made me think. I know it’s down to me or old Jack one of these days. Believe it or not, I don’t want to die.”
    “So what are you going to do different?”
    “I’m not sure yet. You know treatment programs haven’t worked for me. There’s one temp agency that hasn’t thrown my file away. I figured I’d call them. I can work a few days a week, and it’ll leave plenty of time for meetings.” I had temped doing office work on and off for years, but I wasn’t the world’s most reliable employee. I’d managed to burn a lot of bridges. Dumb luck that one still held up. My Plan B in the past had always been to tap Jimmy for a loan. That I did mean to do different. But I didn’t want even to mention it to Barbara. No point getting her mad about the past.
    “And at the meetings,” she prodded, “what are you going to do different? Coming late, leaving early, and standing in the back schmoozing and drinking coffee hasn’t worked for you either.” She reached out and rubbed my arm a little. Telling me she said it because she cared, not just to bust my balls.
    “I’ll get a sponsor.”
    “It can’t be Jimmy.”
    “Yes, dear,” I said with a hint of snap and crackle.
    AA sponsors have long-term sobriety and a built-in bullshit detector, which I knew I needed. I had always been an outstanding bullshitter. It’s not that Jimmy didn’t see right through me, but we had too much history together.
    “He’d be happy to go to meetings with you.”
    “Kill two birds with one stone, huh?”
    “You know how hard it is to get Jimmy away from his computer,” she said. “And he can always use a meeting.”
    “Bless your codependent little heart, you’re not still afraid he’ll drink again after all these years, are you?”
    Barbara grinned. “As he points out to me, how do I imagine he could forget, with me talking a blue streak about it all the time.”
    “You’re a good soul, Barbara.”
    “Why, thank you,” she said, pleased. “And I’m there for you too if you ever want to talk or anything. You know we both love you.”
    Impulsively, I held out my arms. She locked her arms around my waist and snuggled her face into my sweatshirt.
    “Mmm, you smell like clean laundry.” She did the bloodhound thing again. “And shaving soap and just a little smoke.”
    “You don’t like smoke.”
    “Better than the unbearable reek of alcohol seeping out through the pores.”
    “Amazing what a difference a few days off the stuff makes,” I admitted. “I’m a new man.”
    “You’re good to hug, too. So’s Jimmy, of course.”
    “But different,” I pointed out. I’m compact. Jimmy is a big tall guy with the density of a firm mattress.
    “Mmm. Hugging Jimmy is like hugging Santa Claus.” She gave my ribs a squeeze. “You really don’t deserve these nice hard muscles, considering your lifestyle.” She squeezed again and let me go.
    Laughing, I popped my head out the laundry room door. I could see Charmaine coming down the hall, her irritable voice heralding her arrival.
    “I think your date is here,” I said.
    Bark trotted after her, working hard to keep up with her brisk pace.
    “Please!” she snapped. “Sister Angel is muttering about a blessed release, and the hospice is whining about what should they do with his paperwork if he isn’t coming after