In This Skin Read Online Free PDF Page A

snarled with frustration. Below him, the dog sympathized with a loud bark. Through a smeary veil of tears he saw lights flicker on in Old Man Gartez's house. Great. He'd probably come thundering out into the yard with his shotgun.
        Gritting his teeth, Benedict shuffled blindly along while facing the wall. Behind him, fifty feet of warm night air waited for him to back-flip into its embrace.
        Damn, the rust was even in his mouth. It grated against his teeth. Maybe he'd sinned in a past life to suffer this kind of bad luck. Hell, he must have been
        Herod, Stalin and the IRS rolled into one to deserve this. Panting hard while sweating a river of moisture down his spine, Benedict thrust out his arm where the window should be. By chance, his knuckles rapped the windowpane. Below him the dog barked louder. Still unable to see, he worked his hands inside the open window until they found the lip of the sill, then gripping so hard he believed his fingers would crunch through the timber, he side-shuffled along until he reached the opening.
        Now leaning in through the window, he risked freeing one hand to wipe the rusty dirt from his eyes. The aroma of his own home, and even the cold grease smell from grilling pork, seemed like the warmest of welcomes. His head and upper torso were home even if the rest of him wasn't. After he'd taken a moment for a breather, he wriggled forward through the open window, just as Old Man Gartez came through his back door into the yard in his pajamas.
        The perfect crime, Benedict thought with a sudden wicked surge of excitement. He'd done it. He'd found a way home after what had to be the ultimate crappo evening of the year. Sliding over the top of the sink, he put his hand into cold water where the grill pan lay soaking. Even that didn't dampen the triumph over at least one portion of adversity.
        Of course, there were still a few shitty problems. There was his car that he'd have to report stolen to the police. It still unsettled him to have found the youth with the stammer scrambling like some wild animal over the steps of the Luxor. And as always, his mind kept returning to Mariah Lee. She'd walked up those same marble steps ten years ago…
        As he headed for the bathroom, ready to soak the blues away in a tub of hot water with a shot of whisky, he noticed the message light winking on the answering machine. He hit the replay button.
        Two messages. ”Hi, Benedict. It's Linda. You're needed in the L.A. office. Can you give me a call Tuesday?”Then came the second, which made his eyes roll into his head.
        ”Benedict. It's Jessica. The girl who's name you can't remember.
        Remember?”She gave a nervous laugh, then took a deep breath as if confessing. ”Sorry about freaking out like that. But I thought you might have had some buddies lying in wait for me out there at the Luxor. These things happen, you know. Anyway Sorry for taking your car. I haven't bent it or anything. I found your address in the glove compartment, so I've parked the car on the street outside your apartment… oh, and I've left the keys inside your mailbox. I wish I hadn't shitted you. You're nice and I… well, it's down to me being more nervous than I look.
        Bye.”
        Benedict thought about the blind shuffle like Goddamn Spiderman across the face of the building, with a bone-breaking plunge just waiting for him to place a foot wrong. And all the time his keys nestled snugly in his mailbox at the foot of the staircase that he'd strolled by ten minutes before. Hell, life's full of surprises.
        First, come what may, he was going to swill whisky and soak chin deep in hot water. He emptied the change from his pockets, along with something he'd forgotten. He stared at the kid's wallet in his hand. In the bright lights of the apartment he flipped it open and found an address printed on an adhesive label stuck onto the back of a library