The Black Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

somethin’ new, and Frank is gonna get on his high horse and try and do somethin’ about it. Here’s the problem. They don’t want dudes reactin’ like that, either, and I personally guarantee you that they’ll get that new flake gone long before Frank can do anything about it.”
    “That’s a lot of drama for a small town.”
    “Ain’t the size of the thing—it’s money. We’re about as dick deep on the edge of the real Mason-Dixon Line as a community could get, and there ain’t nothin’ out here. There’s big money to be made in meth, whores, and security. The reason people like the mafia is because they make it safe. We’re not some town with two gangs fightin’ over turf. We have a safe place to live. The sheriff needs to remember that his job number one is keepin’ us safe. Everything else doesn’t matter. The mafia keeps all the undesirables out, and Frank needs to remember that traffic stops and some guy beatin’ on his wife are about all he’s needed for.”
    “I can dig it. You think two days?”
    “Can’t see why not. If you head to Sally’s, ask for Renee. Trust me.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Matt watched as Kenny walked back into the shop, presumably to make a call to whatever parts shyster he dealt with, and giving a look to the empty street, Matt walked to the sheriff’s station.
    Flo and her Lansdale book were right where Matt had seen them last, and he figured she must have some kind of ESP after she pointed to the office without looking up. The sounds of yelling and banging had been added to the police station since Matt had last visited, and their addition did nothing for the ambiance. Frank was sitting at his desk when Matt got there, and he waved at the green chair that Matt had sat in earlier.
    “Kid’s really got some pipes,” said Matt, “and I think he’s trying to tell you that he wants out.”
    “He has made mention that he would like to be released,” said Frank. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure he remembers a damn thing that happened. All he knows is that he woke up locked in a cage and that he wants more dope.”
    “Think he checked under the mattress?”
    “He shredded the mattress. What brings you back here? Want to rub my nose in how you saved my butt?”
    “No,” said Matt, leaning back in the chair. “I was hoping we might be able to come to an understanding.”
    “I’m all ears.”
    “My bike is going to take a couple of days to fix and is going to cost about a grand to get that way. I was figuring since I was going to be in town either way, I might be able to help you out with some of your problems, and maybe you could grease my palm.”
    Frank had been playing with a pencil and stopped, letting the marigold-colored No. 2 roll on his desk until it found a barrier in a logbook. Frank looked from Matt to the pencil and then back again.
    “What exactly are you proposing?” Frank asked. “And no beating around the bush. I need to know for sure if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
    “I’m saying that I kind of have a bug in my ear about this whole thing. Like, maybe I feel I might need to help you out. Let me finish. I’m serious. That kid today was not natural, but neither was my bike breaking down, and neither was a guy named Free just happening to walk into Mortimer’s and ask me if I was looking for a good time.”
    Frank was pale and the pencil was forgotten. He was leaning back in his chair when he said, “Go on.”
    “Word is there’s a place called Sally’s in town, a house of ill repute, unless I’m misreading things. If I had to guess, you’ve been offered a trip or two there, and if I had to guess again, I’d say you said no. Probably did wonders for your reputation for about half the county and made everybody else think you’re a problem. I can go to Sally’s. I can tell you what’s happening there, and once I’m in, it’s a damn good bet I can find out who’s making Plague.”
    “You’ll