Paradise Man Read Online Free PDF

teacher.
    He got to the Lincoln. Goldie sat like a guilty child. “Give me that gun,” Holden said. He took the tailor’s .22 short, removed the cartridge, then banged the gun against the dashboard until the gun broke. “Some terrific back-up man. A .22 short? You could hit a guy in the head and the bullet would stand there, stuck in the flesh. Wouldn’t even penetrate the skull. Goldie, who asked you to bring a gun?”
    “There were three maniacs. I couldn’t help myself.”
    “But Jesus, I have to depend on you. You’re my package man. And you pick yourself a stupid gun.”
    “Not so stupid,” Goldie said. “The bullets dance a lot. I always aim for the ear.”
    “Then I’ll use a .22 short next time,” Holden said. “But you keep your guns in the closet.”

5
    H OLDEN KNEW HE WAS near the end. He sat in the kosher deli with all the Greeks who’d discovered pastrami for themselves and couldn’t go back to a diet of olives and brittle white cheese. And a police captain from the old burglary squad had come in to congratulate Holden.
    “That was a beautiful piece of work.”
    This captain had no influence at all. He couldn’t have gotten close to Abruzzi, and yet he’d learned where Holden had been. Holden didn’t even bother to deny it. If a disconnected captain had tied Holden to the Rockaways, then the story had to be out on the street.
    The captain had mustard on his collar. His clothes were full of dandruff. He wore hand-me-downs from a bargain basement. Holden wanted him to disappear. But he couldn’t pinch a captain in public: He had to wait until the captain grabbed a few of Holden’s half-sour pickles.
    “You need a favor, Holden, you come to me.”
    And the captain walked away in filthy trouser cuffs, collecting gifts from the Greeks, because he was supposed to discourage burglars. It was a scam, but why should Holden warn the Greeks, who would love to have him dead? If a captain could finger him that quick, Holden was lucky he’d last the week. Bumpers couldn’t afford to be movie stars. Holden had to depend on the anonymous lair of a fur company. Clients might develop a sudden itch if Holden could be traced back to them.
    “Mikey,” he said. “Red Mike.”
    He left a five-dollar tip, but the waiter followed him out the door.
    “Mr. Holden, please ... I’ll get into trouble.”
    Holden forgot. The kosher deli wouldn’t take his tips. The owners liked to have him around. They hadn’t been held up ever since the sheriff of Aladdin Furs started swallowing their pastrami.
    Holden went up to Nick Tiel. There was a glaze in Nick’s eye. Holden wondered if Nick was about to unravel. He’d have to take the designer along to Paris, or the Greeks would steal from Aladdin. And Holden couldn’t shoot half the fur market to get back Nick’s designs. But Nick lost that crazy luster. “You did it, Goddamn.”
    “Couldn’t you be a little more quiet?” Holden said. Nick Tiel’s assistants were nailing skins a few yards from Holden.
    “Ah, so what?” Nick said. “If people like to listen, they’ll have to suffer the consequences of their own ears.”
    The nailers picked up their boards and moved to the end of the factory.
    “Holden, it was just on the radio. They called you the mystery man. You could run for mayor, start your own ticket.”
    “But that ticket might come home to you.”
    “Let it come,” Nick said. “There’s no danger to us. Holden, you’re a hero.”
    “Good. I’m going to bed.”
    “Infante is here.”
    “What does he want?”
    “Be a little human, Holden. The man admires you.”
    Robert Infante was their lawyer. He was also the lawyer of the biggest Greek furriers and a peacemaker for all the crime families. He’d settled the policy war that broke out between the Italians and the Cubans in 1980. The Italians couldn’t keep La Familia under their wing. It was during the boatlift from Mariel. La Familia had hired the Bandidos to bomb Mafia betting