The Big Mitt (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he suspected the colonel had his own agenda and intended to see it through.
    Queen also knew where he stood with Doc Ames. They’d been friends for years, including past Republican terms when Queen was forced from the city payrolls and back to work as a private detective. Col. Fred Ames was another matter entirely. Queen and the colonel were civil to each other but had never shared a drink or a genial conversation. It was always business. Both brothers knew Queen’s value in getting Doc elected, but Queen wasn’t so sure Colonel Ames would do him any favors once the new administration took hold.
    His head still hurt a little from the night’s festivities, and he cursed under his breath that the streetcars were running slow. Still a good couple of miles away from his house, he picked up his pace, even as he passed a collection of colorless hovels that sat on a block notoriously known as Hell’s Half Acre. He’d been here before on many occasions, and even walked a beat through its crooked paths once or twice. It had a reputation from far back as a slum and an eyesore; a place even veteran policemen shied away from if given a choice.
    “Help, someone get the police! I need help!”
    Queen whirled around. His hand instinctively went to the handle of his pistol, tucked in a holster under his jacket. The voice was urgent, but wasn’t coming from the block’s worst section. He continued down Third Avenue and turned left on Eighth Street, towards the Church of the Redeemer. Eyes squinting, he marched forward, searching for the source. Despite his age of forty, he was in fair condition. Still, as he increased his speed to a fast jog, he felt a little sting in his lungs. He heard the shout again coming from an alley, and within a few steps he found Officer Merriam. The blue-coated patrolman was crouched in a small open lot, white with an inch of fresh snow. The snow’s beauty veiled the grime of rough, slanted shacks and piles of decaying wood. It made the drab landscape almost romantic, like a woodcut from Harper’s magazine. Then he saw the young woman under Merriam’s scrutiny, and the pool of blood around her head. Brown, bent sunflower stalks lay crumpled beneath her thin body.
    “Is she alive?” Queen huffed as he drew close. Merriam looked up. His bell shaped hat lay in the snow by his knee, and his forehead glistened with sweat.
    “No, sir. I can’t find a pulse, and she’s ice cold.” His eyes were wet. He roughly wiped them with his sleeve, avoiding Queen’s stare.
    “Pretty girl,” Queen said. “Even with a broken nose.”
    Merriam’s face was flushed. “What should I do, Mr. Queen? I mean Lieutenant…er…Detective?”
    “I’m all of the above. Go get the coroner,” Queen replied. “And by the way, what are you doing calling out for police help, anyway? You are the goddamn police. She wasn’t going anywhere, for Christ’s sakes.”
    “Yes, sir. She just looks so lonely lying there. I just thought—”
    “I already told you, Merriam. Go.”
    The patrolman nodded and dashed off.
    Queen bent down to examine her. He was struck again by how lovely she was, despite the deep bruises on her face and legs. Not even a pair of shoes to cover her chalky, pale feet. Barebones thin, and scantily dressed for this weather, except for a coarse, frayed boy’s jacket, he noted. He gently held up her head, unbuttoned the jacket’s top three buttons and pulled back the neck of her gown. He found the source of the blood, a bullet hole, just above her left breast. It’s a shame that a girl could be done in this way, he thought.
    He stood up and examined the fence and her position. The front of her gown was caked white, and by the looks of the deep snowy imprint next to her body, she had fallen on her front side prior to being shot. He glanced around, searching for tracks. The snow was untouched around where she lay, except for his and Merriam’s powdery prints.
    A sound startled him. He looked up, and saw a