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

all.”
    Barbara and I exchanged a complicit glance. They were talking about Elwood.
    “It’s sad to see the old ones go,” Bark said. “I used to drink with Mudbone. He was the last. No one left now remembers when I lived in a box.” I knew by now that Bark had been on the Bowery forever. He started drinking during the Korean War and lived in a cardboard box for at least a quarter of a century before getting sober, to his own surprise as well as everybody else’s.
    Charmaine’s voice softened more than I’d thought it could. “You’ve been sober a long time.”
    Barbara stepped out and greeted Charmaine with a peck on the cheek and Bark with a quick hug. I hung back, trying not to fraternize with the staff.
    “You’re amazing, Bark,” Barbara said, “one of a kind.”
    “Right,” the old man said drily. “They don’t make drunks like they used to any more.”
    “Ready to go?” she asked Charmaine. “With you in a sec.” She swung back into the laundry room, one hand on the door frame.
    “You take care of yourself,” she admonished me. “Don’t you dare go AMA before you’re discharged, and don’t get into any trouble.”
    “Me?” I projected injured innocence. “Trouble? This is detox. A bunch of guys in their jammies and not so much as a can of Bud Lite. What could possibly happen?”

Chapter Six
    Along with Barbara’s visit, Elwood’s death kind of broke up the long, timeless days for me. Although it was hardly a blip for the detox as a whole, I couldn’t stop thinking about the old man. No matter how bad a drunk you are, most of the people you trip over aren’t dead. I thought about stuff I usually make sure I avoid, like pain and loneliness. I wondered if he had had time to feel relieved that he wouldn’t have to go to hospice. I wondered if I’d been too flip with the baby cops who’d come and taken a perfunctory statement. I even wondered if he’d really died of natural causes. Maybe he had seen the sneak thief or known somebody’s secret.
    New Year’s Eve came quicker than I expected. We celebrated with an extra meeting. Recovering alcoholics don’t make New Year’s resolutions. We’ve all been on the wagon and fallen off too many times. If we choose to stay sober, we do it one day at a time. That feels a lot more tolerable than forever. If you make ninety days, they give you a little pin with a camel on it and the number 24, because a camel can go twenty-four hours without a drink. Jimmy had a camel. I didn’t.
    After New Year’s Day came Check Day, and God and I both got our twenty-four hour pass. He asked me what I planned to do.
    “I thought I’d call my friend Jimmy, go to a meeting.” I wasn’t sure whether I was lying or not. Mostly I just wanted to walk around. Breathe some air that didn’t smell of ammonia. Smoke a pack or two without anybody glaring at me. Throw the butts on the sidewalk if I felt like it. Eat a cheeseburger. “What about you?” Maybe he’d ask to hook up with me. I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted that either.
    “Oh, this and that.” He gave the bed he was making a final thwack and stuffed a few small items in his pockets. “See a few people, rattle a few cages.”
    It didn’t sound like he needed my company. I felt relieved. I’d call Jimmy. No, I wouldn’t. Maybe I would. I knew what he’d say if I did: “Let’s go to a meeting.”
    Lying awake in bed the night of January third, I thought the day hadn’t gone badly. I had woken up this morning in Laura’s loft in SoHo, a nice change from detox. We’d made love. To tell the truth, though I would never admit it to Barbara, I think Laura is almost as crazy as Barbara thinks she is. I did manage to get a divorce. Okay, she got a divorce, but I didn’t fight it.
    Still, Laura and I knew each other’s bodies. It’s so simple to go to bed with an old lover. I’d long since adopted the path of least resistance, the way people adopt a road. So for better or worse, my