Rogue Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

his holster, shot him dead with it, and dropped it on the body.
    Veronica asked about the gun, so I had to tell the story again. As she listened, she rested her hand on my shoulder.
    â€œEvery once in a while I take it down and clean it,” I said. “Makes me feel close to him.”
    It was late Saturday afternoon, and through the walls we could hear my neighbor, Angela Anselmo, screeching out the window at her little darlings, the eight-year-old budding concert violinist and the thirteen-year-old fledgling smash-and-grab virtuoso. She had already started supper, the garlic aroma from her kitchen slipping easily through the inch-wide crack at the bottom of my front door. We were lying on my tag-sale bed and Salvation Army mattress because there was no place else to sit. I was still pissed about the LPs and the mystery novels, but for the first time, I was glad Dorcas had all the furniture. Veronica’s lips flirted with the side of my face.
    â€œHow mad do you think Lomax will be?” I said.
    â€œPretty mad.”
    â€œMaybe I should do the dog story this weekend.”
    â€œNo working this weekend. Just us. You promised.”
    â€œUnless there’s a fire in Mount Hope,” I said.
    â€œUnless there’s a fire,” she said.
    â€œI hope the fire-scene pictures tell me something.”
    â€œWhat are you hoping to find?”
    â€œThe same face in the crowd at several fires.”
    â€œA firebug?”
    â€œMaybe. They like to hang around and admire their work.”
    â€œMulligan?”
    â€œUm?”
    â€œCould we talk about something else?”
    Again with the lips.
    â€œSure. Why don’t you tell me how you managed to get that grand-jury testimony?”
    â€œForget it, buster.”
    â€œWhat, then?”
    â€œAsk me something else.”
    â€œDo you color your hair?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo you color your hair?”
    â€œNo. Okay, my turn. How’s that divorce coming along?”
    â€œI had a pleasant conversation about that with Dorcas just this morning.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œUnless I agree to lifetime alimony, she’ll tell the judge I beat her.”
    â€œShe’s been saying that for two years, Liam.”
    â€œI asked you not to call me that.”
    â€œI like it.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œIt’s a fine name, baby.”
    But it was my grandfather’s name. Every time I hear it, I see a chalk outline on a bloodstained sidewalk. I didn’t want to go into it, so I just shook my head.
    â€œL. S. A. Mulligan. Maybe I could call you by one of your middle names.”
    â€œSeamus or Aloysius?”
    â€œOh.… Ever have any nicknames?”
    â€œMy teammates on the Providence College basketball team used to call me ‘Stew.’ ”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œMulligan Stew?”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œIt seems odd calling you Mulligan when your hands are on my butt.”
    â€œIt’s the only name I answer to.”
    â€œLike Madonna?”
    â€œLike Seal.”
    â€œI think I’m going to call you Liam.”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t.”
    â€œPleeeeeease,” she said, stringing out the syllable and rubbing all that woman against the front of my jeans. The rubbing didn’t work. It just made me forget what she was asking. I rolled her over, pinning her beneath me and nipping at the space between her neck and the swell of her breasts. My hands fumbled with the top button on her blouse.
    â€œLiam?”
    I ignored her, my fingers working on the second button.
    â€œMulligan?”
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œI want you to get an AIDS test first.”

8
    Efrain and Graciela Rueda had arrived in Providence seven years ago from the little town of La Ceiba in southeastern Mexico. He went to work as a day laborer. She made beds at the Holiday Inn. Two years later, the twins were born. Graciela wanted to name them