Nothing Read Online Free PDF

fingers.
    Don't look shy to me.
    You need to see him naked.
    Iverson speaks.
    Enough of this bullshit.
    We need you to follow us.
    I just told you, I have a prior engagement.
    Old Cop chimes up again.
    Listen fuckhole, dead bodies follow you around like a fart in an elevator. We need you to see something and tell us what the fuck happened.
    I make a face. And say
    You're detectives aren't you supposed to find out. You know ... detect what happened?
    Old Cop tensed his jaw. Iverson looked at Old Cop then his shoes.
    I hold up my hand.
    Okay, okay, you got my interest. Where we going?
    Old Cop says
    Yeah, yeah, we got your fucking number.
    You do I'm sure you're real dialed in now where we going to?
    Follow us. The morgue again.

CROOKED WINGS
     
    Largo drives following the tail lights on the White Lincoln. I am calm, fearless and focused. I don't think this is a trap. I don't think that these cops are on Yama's bank roll. I ask Largo.
    Do you think Pilgrim fucked up the clean with the California girl?
    Largo shakes his head, no. I carry on.
    Old Cop saw the girl in my room, she was in the tub.
    Largo shrugs.
    You're very conversational tonight. Largo decides to speak.
    Let's see where they're taking us. I don't like this and I don't like carrying while getting friendly with a fucking stupid cop whose minutes away from retirement. This asshole is a liability we don't need. And even if Pilgrim fucked up, what connects you to the girl, you said he only saw her feet?
    Maybe that's what they want to see. Maybe she had special toenail polish that the Old Bastard recognized. Maybe his wife wears it. Maybe he wears it. Maybe they think I'll crack and bawl out my eyes, followed by an I killed her confession.
    We both laugh.
    Largo speaks
    Yeah, but who killed the Cal girl?
    I think the same person killed my Carly. We find Santana then we ask.
    Largo pulls into a parking spot next to the White Lincoln at Saddleback Memorial Hospital. I get out, he follows, the cops get out and we both follow them into the sliding doors of the hospital. It's a medical building. I don't like the white fluttering walls. Blue white fluorescent. Aqua colored scrubs, long corridors, machines with black concertina bladders, tubes and wires everywhere, sounds of electronic peeps blotted out by hacking coughs. Iverson holds the door as we enter the pathology wing. Old Cop talks to a nurse behind a high white desk. Her black skin shines grey beneath the hard fluorescents. She nods, they speak, he shrugs, she points toward a room with wired glass doors and curtain pulled across. He walks, we follow. The room we enter is stainless steel and white ceramic tile. A wall is covered with stainless rectangular drawers. Old Cop looks at a folder the nurse had passed to him. He squints at the numbers on the end of each drawer handle. He bends down, all arthritic and rheumatism to a low drawer and tugs until it slides out.
    I don't feel anything. It's cold. I feel cold. It's fucking freezing.
    Old Cop points at me with the folder. He says.
    You.
    A body is outlined beneath a white sheet. Almost a skeleton in shape. Sharp shoulders. Pointed nose. Feet shoot upwards towards the harsh lighting.
    Know anything about this?
    Old Cop slides back the sheet, it reveals the upper body of a man. His eyes are closed. He is Latin American. He has a large winged tattoo across his throat. His torso is coated with blue ink. Gang, prison, tats I have seen before. I say.
    Never seen him before.
    Old Cop snorts.
    Word on the street says different. Word says that you're looking for this man. Been asking for him by name.
    I look at Iverson. He had written Manalito Santana on the back of his card. I move my eyes back to Old Cop.
    He's not my type.
    Old Cop flips the sheet back covering Santana's body. He takes his time walking around the open drawer until he stands in front of me. I hold my position. I hold my stare. Old Cop says.
    Death is following you Sir. You are a known felon. A stranger to