The Duchess of Skid Row Read Online Free PDF

pulled myself to my feet. I felt sick to my stomach from the pain at the base of my skull. I fumbled once more for the light switch. This time I got results.
    A single, bright overhead bulb came on. The worktable was beside me. Across the room was Johnny Itsuko’s old daybed with a crumpled blanket on top. I started toward it.
    Then I saw the hand. I staggered to the daybed. I picked it up and threw it across the room. I looked down at Johnny Itsuko. His face was twisted into a tight grimace of pain. I could see blood under his head. His face was bruised, the nose flattened.
    I didn’t see how he could still be alive, but his battered lips moved. His eyes tried to open and failed. The lips moved again.
    I said, “Johnny. It’s Jeff McKeon.”
    His mouth tried to form words. I lowered my head. His voice barely brushed my ear. He said something that sounded like, “Report. Tape. Kay.” Or maybe it was DA instead of Kay. I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t ask him a second time. The voice stopped I rocked back on my heels. I was squatted that way when the explosion came. It was a strange sound, as if someone had splintered one of the wooden walls with an axe.
    The window blew inward. So did the far wall. Chips of wood and dirt and cobweb rained down. I smelled smoke and heard the vicious crackle of fire.
    Flames were racing up the dry left wall. The smoke billowed in, choking me. Whoever had set the explosive had done a professional job. The tiny, ancient building wouldn’t last ten minutes.
    I fumbled through the smoke for Johnny’s body. I scooped it up in my arms. The ugly flickering red light from the flames showed me the door leading to his yard. I reached it. I lifted a foot, kicked it open, and staggered out into the fresher air.
    I walked as far as I could manage toward his house. I made about half the distance when the sickness swallowed me. I dropped to my knees and laid Johnny on the damp grass. I stayed where I was, leaning over.
    Suddenly a woman was beside me, trim, dark-haired, neat in her housedress. She went to her knees. She looked at me from soft, beautiful eyes.
    She said in a wondering voice, “Johnny?”
    “He’s been hurt, Kay. Take it easy. And call for help.”
    She said, “Johnny,” again, her voice unbelieving.
    I looked past her at the rear door. Three-year-old Johnny Junior was toddling toward us. I said, “You’d better take care of the boy, Kay. And call an ambulance. And the police.”
    She rose and turned toward her child. She scooped him in her arms and carried him quickly into the house.
    The flickering light from the burning shed washed over everything. One wall collapsed, sending a rocket of sparks into the air. In the near distance a fire siren howled.
    I looked down at Johnny’s battered face again. I said, “Johnny, what happened? Who did it?”
    I stopped talking to him. His mouth wasn’t moving any more.
    I was still kneeling there when the firemen roared up and doused out the last embers of the fire. I was still there when the police came. Kay was with me too. She was crying softly as she looked down at the quiet body.

4
    L IEUTENANT M ASLIN , Homicide, looked past me at the crowd that flowed from the alley into the yard. The fire was down to hissing embers. The firemen had satisfied themselves that no other place in the neighborhood was in danger and were putting away their equipment.
    Johnny Itsuko had been taken away in the police ambulance. Kay was in the house under the care of a police matron. And that left me with Maslin.
    I said, “Let’s talk about Johnny, Lieutenant. I want to get home and cleaned up.”
    Maslin watched me without expression. None of his usual friendliness showed as he spoke. “I heard about your fight with Itsuko in the Real Estate Records room, Jeff.”
    “He was faking it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have hidden something in that file drawer and then told me to get it. And he wouldn’t have called and left me a message, either.”
    Maslin