Flesh Read Online Free PDF

road, Jake could see the station wagon and restaurant. But not the Smeltzers.
    They didn’t forget a damn thing, those idiots. They came back to work.
    Not a big surprise.
    Jake picked up his pace.
    The woman, that afternoon, had obviously been reluctant to leave. Ron was the sensible one. But weak. The littlewife must’ve pursuaded him that they shouldn’t let a little thing like a possible killer in the vicinity stand between them and their chores. Scared? Take the shotgun. You stand guard while I sweep up the dust bunnies.
    “Smart move, folks,” Jake muttered.
    He hoped they were smart enough, at least, to check the doors and windows carefully. Assuming they had locked up before leaving (and they’d certainly taken long enough, Jake remembered), then the guy probably couldn’t have entered without breaking something.
    Unless he was already inside before they secured the place. Hiding.
    What if they know?
    The thought astonished Jake. He stopped walking and stared at the restaurant. And toyed with the idea.
    They weren’t hostages—that didn’t fit at all. But what if they were cooperating with the guy for some reason?
    What reason?
    Money? Maybe the guy’s loaded and bribed them to help out.
    Ron’s story about going for ice always did sound fishy.
    And they spent an awfully long time inside when they were supposed to be locking up. Maybe discussing the situation with their new friend.
    They leave with me. Come back after dark. With a shotgun.
    A shotgun for their pal.
    Jake started walking again, frowning as he gazed at the restaurant.
    What do I know about the Smeltzers? he asked himself. Next to nothing.
    Hell, the van might’ve been on its way here when somebody got the bright idea of running down Celia Jamerson.
    You’re stretching it, aren’t you?
    Just covering the bases. Taking a good look at every angle. That’s how you avoid surprises.
    Do you really believe they’ve thrown in with the guy?
    The wife, maybe. Yeah, I could believe that. But Ron?
    Maybe Ron’s a terrific actor.
    Jake doubted it.
    They had to both be in on it, or neither of them. So it was neither. Probably.
    As Jake neared the restaurant, he decided that, in all likelihood, the two had simply decided to ignore the risk, bring a gun along for protection, and spend a while finishing up their chores. But he couldn’t ignore the other possibilities, remote as they might be.
    Better safe than dead.
    He chose not to knock on the door.
    Instead, he silently climbed the porch stairs and peeked through one of the bay windows to the right of the entrance. He saw no one. The area beyond the window would be the cocktail lounge. A long, dark wood bar with a brass foot rail ran the length of the room. It had no stools, but there were a couple of folding chairs and a card table in front of it, about halfway down. The card table held a small collection of bottles and cocktail glasses.
    There’s some evidence for you, Jake thought. They had been planning to drink here. Ron must’ve been telling the truth about going for ice.
    Jake crept to the other side of the door. Through the window there, he had a full view of the main dining room. Without any tables or chairs, it looked huge. The dark paneled wall to the left had half a dozen windows. Sconces were hung in the spaces between the windows, between the windows at the rear, and along the wall to the right. The wrought iron sconces each held three imitation candles—white stalks with glowing bulbs at the top. Apparently, they didn’t provide enough illumination for the Smeltzers. One table lamp rested on the floor, casting a pool of light across the glossy hardwood.
    Next to the lamp stood a vacuum cleaner. A broom was propped against a stepladder. There was an open toolbox onthe floor, and an assortment of rags and cans and bottles of substances to be used for cleaning and polishing.
    Jake figured that the wall on the right must close off the kitchen area. About halfway down it, light spilled