The Death of Lorenzo Jones Read Online Free PDF

hands
     covering his private parts and cowered.
    Hook gave Killer a series of sharp quick punches to the face, just to remember him by—one, two, three, four. The hard fast
     hands of Hook flew through the afternoon air and found their mark. Dumbrowsky’s big elephant eyes rolled up in their sockets,
     and he fell like a tree onto the sidewalk and rolled halfway into the gutter, his nose an inch away from a chewed-up cigar
     butt.
    Hook heard a rustling and spun around. Half-Pint, the fool, was running at him with his shiv out. He had the thing extended
     way out from his body as if he were scared of it himself. The gleaming blade rushed at Hook like a bolt of electricity. Hook
     spun his foot up and caught the side of Half-Pint’s hand. The knife spun out of the tiny fist and flew through the air, end
     over end, across the street like a spinning dollar.
    Hook grabbed the punk’s hand. He pushed his other hand against Half-Pint’s elbow. Crack! It snapped like an old chicken bone.
     Half-Pint screamed and fell to the ground clutching his broken arm. He writhed around like a snake looking for a hole to crawl
     in.
    “And that’ll teach you assholes. I hope,” Hook said to the three.
    Suddenly a citizen came running up.
    “I saw you!” he screamed at Lockwood. “Those fists are lethal weapons. Cut it out. You’ll hurt them.”
    “What!” Lockwood said. “That’s the idea.”
    Damn! When he turned back, the three were scampering down the street.
    At least they didn’t bust my lip, Lockwood thought, or rip my suit. Not bad. He swept his fingers through his hair, which
     that overstuffed dinosaur, Dumbrowsky had managed to tangle, and made off for the rendezvous with Robin. He could use a drink
     with a pretty dame.
    Lockwood stopped in a drugstore to phone Mr. Gray. He wanted Gray to insist on a meeting with Wade. He told Gray what he had
     done so far and said he was on his way to an important meeting with “a possible informant.” Lockwood didn’t say she was voluptuous
     and blond. He took two aspirin with a seltzer at the soda counter and left.
    Gray had said he was glad Hook wasn’t fooling with women this time. He would arrange a meeting with Wade, if possible, for
     this evening. Hook told Gray he wanted to ask Wade if he had any short friends.
    Lockwood wondered, what if Robin wants to spend the night? Not that he was rushing the young lady. Yet they might get along
     real fine. He had a sixth sense about women. If he was right, Robin had an eye for him. There was something else he remembered
     aside from her perfume, something desperate in those eyes, something yearning to break free and open up to someone. Him maybe.
    Jesus, he was twenty minutes late. He got back to the Cord and floored it. In a minute, a police Plymouth pulled him over.
     Lt. Jimbo Brannigan was scarcely half-way out of the black and white door when Hook recognized him. Jimbo had a demeanor of
     a bulldog sizing up a mailman for a bite. He was big and tall, but everything about his build inside that blue uniform said
     bulldog, too.
    Lockwood watched him approach in his side mirror. Brannigan, of course, would know by the car that it was his old pal and
     irritant, Hook Lockwood. They went back a long way, often at odds, more often working together. The towering bulk of the well-weathered
     Irishman filled the mirror. Brannigan leaned on the sill of the open window and put his weight on the running board. The car
     tilted slightly. He was that big.
    “Hiya, dimple face. You seemed to be speeding, or was it my imagination?” The caustic grin of the cop met Lock-wood’s sheepish
     one.
    “Really? I must have the speedometer checked. It gets all clogged up with the cinders from these filthy streets.”
    Brannigan removed the grin; he was all bulldog again. “I hear that you’re off and running on a new case, me boy. I suppose
     you’ll soon be asking me for favors and assistance.”
    “I won’t need assistance, thank you.