Lover Man: An Artie Deemer Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

her husband's brain was the size of a valnut. "I jus' hope one zing, is all I hope. I hope you younk people nefer get olt. If it ain't za colon, it's za limpfiss glans." That elevator ride seemed to take two days.
    When we finally reached the lobby, the messenger pulled her hood over her hair and bolted.
    "Gotta run, Mrs. F.," I said. Ordinarily I'd have walked her to the store or at least as far as Broadway, but not today.
    "Yes, you younk people run alonk."
    The messenger turned east, and I strode carefully up behind her, but I hung back when I saw her hand burrow into her shoulder bag.
    "Just give me an explanation, that's all," I pleaded, but she kept walking, shoulders hunched against the rain. I quickened my pace and came up beside her without making any sudden moves. We walked silently to the comer.
    "Billie and I were lovers," she said.
    "You were?" I said stupidly. "I didn't know she—"
    "Yeah." She scurried across Broadway against the light. "I didn't either."
    "What does this letter mean?"
    "What it says, I guess."
    "What's in the ice tray?"
    "I don't know."
    "You didn't look?"
    "No."
    "But you opened the letter."
    "What would you have done?"
    "Why did Billie think she might die?"
    "Look, what do I know? I just deliver messages to dogs."
    "There's a place on Broadway, just a block up. Let's get out of the rain and talk. Please."
    "Yeah, okay."
    The River Liffey used to be a grotty sports bar with a serious poker game in the back room, but Jim was a man of foresight. He recognized the neighborhood trend toward gentrification and changed his image. "Class, hoss," he told me. "That's how you suck in the young upscale master-blasters." I liked it better before. Billies ex-lover and I took a booth away from the bar and ordered coffee.
    "How did you get this note?" I asked.
    "It came by bike messenger."
    "When?"
    "Yesterday. There was another note that said if she should die, I should deliver the other note to Jellyroll."
    "Where is your note now?"
    "I threw it away...Is she really dead?"
    "I saw her body at the morgue."
    She began to cry silently.
    "Did you really think she wasn't?"
    "No. I saw the headlines." She wiped her eyes on a paper napkin. "I just hoped."
    "I don't understand why she thought she'd be killed."
    "I don't either. I told you." She was squeezing back tears by sheer force of will.
    "What's your name?" I asked.
    "Sybel."
    "Where did you know Billie from?"
    "Work."
    "You're a photographer?"
    "No. I work in the neighborhood. Near her studio. I work for an antiques dealer across the street. She came in about a year ago looking for chairs, but we only sell to dealers. Wholesale. I told her that. We got to talking."
    "What's the name of the antiques store?"
    "Renaissance."
    "She left me about a year ago."
    "Yeah, well, she left me six months later."
    "For a man or woman?"
    "For a man named Leon Palomino."
    "You're kidding."
    "That's his name."
    "What is he, an actor?"
    "He's a trucker. He moves valuable antiques."
    A scuffle broke out near the bar. A woman squealed, and two upscalers dressed out of the Land's End catalog shoved at each other's chests, Reeboks shuffling for traction.
    "Quit that fightin', hoss," Jim shouted, but they didn't. Jim produced a Louisville Slugger and rapped the bar with it. "Quitfightin' or I slap you shitless." The upscalers quit shoving each other, and the woman stomped out.
    "Nice place," said Sybel.
    "It used to be. Do you know what this means? It means somebody killed Billie for a reason. I mean, as opposed to some freak who killed her for kicks."
    "No kidding?"
    "Pardon me. I'm slow. You're way ahead. You already surmised that."
    "Look, if somebody gets killed after leaving a note saying they expected it, then it's likely not random. For all I know, you killed her."
    "Same here."
    "Right. We've got the basis for a beautiful relationship."
    "Do you want to look in that ice tray?"
    "No, I do not. I did my part. I delivered the letter. I don't want to hear about it again. I