In the Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

What he thought were long-dead flowers were relatively fresh roses the color of midnight. Palmer handled the bouquet gingerly, since the bundled stems were full of thorns.
    Black roses. With the florist's name and telephone number stenciled onto the ribbon

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) binding them together. Palmer smiled as he pulled the ribbon free, wincing as a thorn bit into the meat of his thumb.
    He stared at the bead of blood-as shiny and red as a freshly polished ruby-for a second before bringing it to his mouth. As he sucked, he glanced up and saw a gaunt young man dressed in an unseasonably light jacket watching him from a few yards away, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Palmer caught the odor of burning clove on the crisp morning breeze. When Palmer looked again, the man was gone, although the scent of his French cigarette still hung in the air.
    Palmer was sure he'd seen the stranger's face before. Was it possible he was being followed? Pocketing the florist's ribbon, he turned and hurried back the way he'd come. He wondered where the man could have gone so quickly. He also wondered how the stranger could stand hanging around a graveyard on an overcast February morning in nothing warmer than a silk jacket. He stopped and turned to look back in the direction of Chaz's grave. He reached into his anorak and pulled out the snapshot that Pangloss had given him.
    Impossible. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. His scar tightened. It was the lack of sleep doing it to him. And the dreams. Even though it was a perfectly rational explanation, it didn't make him feel any better. He had to do something about the dreams before they drove him completely out of his mind. But not now. It would have to wait until after the case was out of the way.

    "Yeah, that's ours, awright," said the florist, studying the length of faded yellow ribbon Palmer handed him.
    "I was wondering if you might be able to help me find out who placed the order."
    "Look, fella, we sell a lot of flowers..."
    "Black roses?"
    The florist pulled his bifocals down a fraction of an inch and squinted at Palmer.
    "Black roses, you say?"
    Palmer nodded. He was on the trail, he knew it. He could feel the familiar, almost electrical, thrill of connections being made, invisible machinery dropping into gear.
    "A dozen of them. Delivered to the Rolling Lawns Cemetery."
    The florist moved to a filing cabinet. "Deceased's name?"
    "Chastain."
    The florist grunted and pulled a manila folder from one of the drawers. Yeah, I remember filling that order. Customers usually don't order roses for grave decorations. Mother's Day, St. Valentine's Day, anniversaries, birthdays, sure. And black roses, at that-specially this time of year."
    "I take it they're expensive."
    "You could say that." He tapped the order form. "Says here it was a phone order.
    Long distance. Paid for it with a credit card."
    "Could 1 see?"
    "I don't know- My partner wouldn't like me letting strangers look at our files."
    "Uh, I understand. Say, how much for one of those thingies over there?" He pointed at a large floral display shaped like a horseshoe, GOOD LUCK spelled along its rim in white carnations.

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )

    "That runs around seventy-five, a hundred bucks, depending on where you want it delivered."
    "I'll take one." He peeled five twenties from the roll in his pocket.
    "The order was placed a week ago and was paid for by Indigo Imports of New Orleans, sir."
    Palmer let himself grin. He could feel it coming together. For the first time in his professional life he knew he was on a real case, like the ones Sam Spade and the Continental Op solved, the kind that cloaked his profession in glamorous clouds of cigarette smoke, whiskey fumes and gunpowder. The years spent staking out hot-sheets joints with a Polaroid in his lap seemed to