Kiss Her Goodbye Read Online Free PDF Page B

handled that?"
    "Because she loved me, Pat. You know it, I know it, and we both know I didn't deserve her, but there it is. She would have been so distracted, worrying about me, nursemaiding me, she could easily have taken a hit. And I could stand a lot of things, Pat ... but after all these years, losing her because she's trying to save me? No. No way.
Now
can we change the subject?"
    "Mike, you don't tune somebody out when you love them."
    "You said it yourself, Pat. She's a P.I. Probably a better detective than either of us. If she'd really wanted to find me, she could have."
    "Really? After your
letter?
"
    Barroom noise and chatter filled a pregnant silence.
    Finally I said, "You know about that?"
    A sad little frown flitted across his face. "Yeah, I know about it."
    I tried not to ask. I swear to God, I tried not to ask.
    "What's happened to her, Pat?"
    He looked past me, gnawing gently at his lip. When he was ready, he said, "Six months ago, she called. She'd gotten your letter. She read it to me, Mike. How could you say those things to her?"
    I had to ask him.
    "How'd she sound?" I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice.
    He thought about it, then shrugged. "Cold. Remote. Not the way she used to."
    "Come on, Pat."
    "There was a new man in her life, she said. She said she'd moved on, and called me to say she was leaving town. She did ... just mention that she ... wondered if you were still alive, or if you had asked about her."
    My chest felt tight and my shoulders bunched up under my coat.
    He was saying, "I told her I didn't know where you were, and that we hadn't spoken since you slipped our guard at the hospital. She told me your letter had a Miami postmark, which gave me a starting point, tracking you down. The last I heard, she'd left town."
    "...New man in her life. Well, good. I'm glad for her."
    "In a pig's ass you are."
    "Let's just say I can handle it, okay? It was a phase of my life."
    "A goddamn
long
phase."
    "You know me, Pat. Women come and go."
    "Yeah, you come and they go. But
not
Velda—she was a constant. She was with you for ... forever."
    I'd thought it would be forever.
    "Like I said," I said as casually as I could manage, "now it's over."
    "I'm supposed to believe you're not hurting?"
    "I'm
not
hurting. I won't forget her, but I'm not all whacked out of shape over it."
    I leaned back and wondered whether or not I was lying. For sure, I'd never forget her.
    Never.
    In his typical fashion, Pat turned the whole subject upside-down. He asked very casually, "You have a gun on you?"
    He was a winner, all right.
    "No. I haven't carried one since that night at the pier."
    "You renewed your permit."
    "The man's a detective ... yes, and my driver's license and the one for the agency. The office is closed but the rent is paid up. I sublet my apartment but didn't let it go."
    "Why? Why bother?"
    Good question. "Some things you just never give up, pal."
    "Are you planning on staying?"
    "Not long-term. Not sure I could handle that dark cloud you say follows me around."
    He waved for the waiter and asked for the check. "You need to crash with me?"
    "No thanks. I booked a room at the Commodore." I waited a moment, then added, "I want to go over to Doolan's pad tomorrow."
    "I figured as much. No problem. When you're done, we'll turn the place over to Anna, and she and her husband can loot it. Come on, I'll give you a ride to the hotel."
    We walked to where he'd parked his old sedan. Pat pulled out and turned left, cruising down one of those sick streets where nobody gave a damn about anything. If you were a stranger, you'd wonder where the slopped-up jokers got the money to buy a pint and who the hell those poor old hookers were going to solicit in
this
neighborhood.
    We were in the nowhere zone of a street that had died and hadn't been buried yet. Somehow, nobody had broken the antiquated street lamps yet and a pale yellow blob of light seemed to droop away from the poles.
    "What's this, a shortcut?" I