Suspension Read Online Free PDF

nodded at the truth of that. “Seen men killed for less: a pair of shoes, a pint of rotgut. Strange the killer left it,” Tom said after a pause. “If you kill a man for money, you don’t leave before you have it. I think Terrence here is dead for some other reason.”
    Sam gave a huff of agreement. “So what do you think? Jealous husband, revenge, debts—could be any damn thing.”
    â€œTerrence knows, but he’s not talking,” Tom said, looking down at the body. “Well, Terrence, my lad, anything else you’d like to reveal to us?” Terrence was mute. The silence echoed, and Tom waited. Sam shifted his feet, feeling more and more awkward as time and silence conspired. “Damn.” Tom’s eyes fixed on Terrence’s vest. Sam gave a little jump as if Terrence had actually said something. “Why didn’t I see that before?” Bending over the body, Tom looked closely at the dark wool of Terrence’s work-stained vest. “This look like a tobacco stain to you, Sam?”
    Halpern joined Tom, bending low to get a closer look. “Hard to tell with that dark cloth,” Sam muttered. “Might be. What of it? Most every man who ever chewed tobacco ends up wearin’ some of it.”
    Tom looked at Sam, a question in his eyes. “You find any chaw on him? I know I didn’t.”
    â€œNo, but …” Sam trailed off while he searched for an explanation.
    â€œYou look in his mouth?” Tom asked with a little grimace. The two of them looked at each other and then down at the body. If he had been chewing tobacco, there might be some left tucked in his cheek, a particularly unappetizing thought given the body’s condition.

    â€œShit.” Tom grumbled. He could have waited for the coroner to do his autopsy, but waiting to find out something he could learn for himself was not Braddock’s style. “I’ll look in his mouth.” “Give me your gloves, Sam.” He held out a hand as if he really expected Sam to give them up.
    Halpern chuckled, shaking his head. “Not mine, partner.” The ones in his pocket happened to be his last good pair. Fishing around in a dead man’s mouth was not his idea of a productive use for them.
    â€œThanks a lot!” Tom said with a sarcastic twist to his mouth. “All right, now look here, Bucklin.” He wagged a finger at the body for emphasis. “I’ve got to play dentist for a bit, so you just relax and don’t go biting one o’ my fingers off.” Tom half meant it. After prying Terrence’s mouth open, he looked inside, pulling the cheeks away from the swollen gums as much as he dared. Tom was as gentle as he could be, for he feared that Bucklin’s well-aged cheeks might tear away. The thought sent a cold trickle of sweat rolling down his back. His probing fingers turned up nothing, and he stood quickly, almost wiping his hands on his pants. “Be right back.”
    Tom washed his hands three times in the washroom of Paddy’s without really feeling clean, but he went back out to the alley anyway. Sam was twirling the end of his mustache the way he did when something bothered him. He had a puzzled look on his face, and he said, “It’s odd, you know. Back when I was still chewing tobacco, I managed to spit some down my shirt and it always made sort of a dribbly run down the front. Ruined a couple o’ good shirts that way. Tobacco stains are hell to get out. Funny thing is, Mr. Bucklin here just has a big old splotch on his vest.”
    Tom nodded and said softly. “I was thinking the same thing while I washed up. Killer spat on him. Bashed his head in and spat on his dying body. Tobacco juice don’t run when you’re flat on your back.”
    They stood over the corpse, Sam’s thumbs hooked in his pockets, Tom’s arms folded across his chest.
    â€œBucklin was probably still alive when he did