Fugitive Nights Read Online Free PDF Page A

when the doc said the arteries around my heart’re like the L.A. interchange at rush hour, so I quit smoking. It was easy to quit, except I got this need to kill six or seven cats a day. I gotta say so long for now and head for the Humane Society to pick up a few. I tried ground squirrels but they don’t work.”
    And to her utter astonishment, Lynn Cutter suddenly stood up, waved bye-bye, and wobbled toward the front door of the saloon! But he was stopped by a large blond woman who was on her way in.
    â€œLynn,” the blonde said, backlit by the brilliant Palm Springs sunlight, which penetrated his skull like hot nails.
    â€œHave we met?” he croaked.
    â€œYou better remember me. Phyllis!”
    â€œCharmed, I’m sure,” he said, vaguely recognizing the mustache. She was wearing what she thought was a drop-dead, midthigh leather skirt that would’ve turned off Ted Bundy.
    â€œSuch a kidder,” she giggled. “You said we’d have lunch today.”
    Lynn was frozen in the doorway, trapped. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot about lunch, Phyllis.”
    â€œWell I didn’t!” she said. “And I don’t appreciate being made a fool out of!”
    She was taller than Breda Burrows. With heels she was taller than Lynn, and almost as heavy! Her ’stash was heavier, in fact. “Phyllis,” he said. “That woman over there glaring at me? That’s my wife! I can’t be seen with you!”
    â€œGoddamnit, you said you were single!” Her voice was like cymbals clashing. “You sang to me: ‘I got that lovin feeling!’ You sonofabitch!”
    God, he hated that song! “Well, I’m not exactly married,” he whined. “I mean, I’m getting a divorce and we’re talking settlement now. And we agreed not to see other people till it’s over. Get it?”
    Breda Burrows was paying her bill during all this, and was striding indignantly toward the door when Lynn turned a blood-red eye in her direction.
    â€œBreda,” he called out. “Breda!” But the P.I. brushed past and was gone.
    â€œShe acts like she really cares,” Phyllis said, with a hideous smirk.
    â€œYeah, well, she pretends like she couldn’t care less if I starred in a snuff film or went to Disneyland, but really, she loves me. She’s a great little mother too.”
    â€œYou got kids? You asshole! You told me you were single and childless!”
    â€œI gotta go now,” he said. “I gotta catch up with my wife. The settlement. The final decree. The property. Our four little ankle-biters!”
    Phyllis followed him into the merciless glare and watched as he put on his sunglasses and caught up with Breda, who was unlocking the door of her white Datsun 280ZX. Phyllis gave up when Lynn climbed in beside the P.I.
    â€œWho invited you?” Breda said.
    He attempted to smile. “I know I’ve been a pain in the ass today.”
    â€œAny more of a pain and you’d break through my Valium,” she said, not asking him to get out, but not starting the car either.
    She put on sunglasses with taffy-colored plastic rims, and looked him over. He wore a shabby golf shirt with a frayed collar, tattered cotton trousers, cheap loafers.
    â€œI guess I should at least listen to your offer,” he said. “I suppose you heard I got burned for allegedly giving information to a lawyer, and you figured I’m your man, right?” Lynn saw that she wasn’t wearing stockings. Her legs were so tan that in The Furnace Room they’d fooled him.
    â€œSee, the lawyer was working on a deal for a guy I know, a cop facing prosecution for a bad shooting. He killed a kid.”
    â€œHow old was the kid?”
    â€œTwelve.”
    â€œTwelve years old!”
    â€œYeah, I know,” Lynn said. “Jack Graves is the cop’s name. Worked dope down in Orange County. I knew him when he used