The Longest Second Read Online Free PDF

somewhere around a hundred and eighty pounds.”
    “Did you notice anything in particular?” asked Jensen.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Distinguishing marks or characteristics.”
    “Only the obvious under these conditions,” Gorman said a little testily. “He has an old scar on his back. Looks like it might have been from a shell splinter.”
    “Anything else?” asked Burrows.
    “Nothing now.”
    “How long has he been dead?” Jensen looked at the body which had been covered with a blanket.
    Gorman glanced at his wrist watch. “He was dead at two o’clock, that much we know. Working back is hard ... the body stripped, left outdoors, I can’t do anything but make a guess at this point.”
    “Go ahead, Doc, make it,” said Jensen.
    “And then have you guys swarm all over me if I change my mind later.” Gorman was bitter. He’d had to revise his opinions before, and he resented being pushed into making decisions before having a basis for them.
    “We won’t hold you to it,” Burrows said, easily.
    “You’re damned right you won’t,” replied Gorman, “because what I’m telling you now is only a guess. I’ll help you if I can now and change my mind later if I have to.” Both of the detectives nodded their agreement. “Okay,” said Gorman, “so my guess is he was chopped off about midnight. It might have been as early as eleven, and maybe as late as one. I’ll try to do better when I get back to the office.”

7
    “WHAT do you think of this idea?” asked Bianca. “Upstairs there are only two bedrooms, and I have a friend living with me who pays rent, but downstairs in my workshop I have a big leather couch which used to belong to my father. And there’s a shower down there too. You could sleep there, and have your meals here. I couldn’t pay much in addition to that, but I’ll give you what I can. A percentage of what I make?” She looked at me inquiringly.
    I didn’t know.
    “You’re free to leave whenever you like, but at least it’ll give you a chance to look around and find something better.” The sound of the front door opening reached us. Then I heard the light tapping of a woman’s heels along the hallway past the living room. In the doorway of the kitchen appeared the figure of a tall, striking blonde. In her high heels she was nearly six feet tall, slender, with her hair combed back in a chignon—showing off the classical regularity of her features. When she saw me, she stopped. Stopped as suddenly as if frozen in her motion, and when she looked at me I realized her eyes were cold. She asked, “Where’d he come from?”
    Bianca laughed. “Rosemary,” she said, “may I present my new partner, employee, house guest, and the man who owes me his life, Mr. Victor Pacific.”
    Rosemary merely stared at me.
    Bianca attempted to ease the situation. She said lightly, “You’ve heard of men who die for a woman? Well, Mr. Pacific didn’t die for me, but he nearly died on my front steps.” Quickly she placed another cup and saucer on the table. “Come on,” she said to Rosemary, “join us. You look as if you’ve had a hard day.”
    The blonde slowly seated herself while regarding me hostilely. “Please tell me,” she said, “what this is all about?” Bianca gave her the details. When she had finished, Rosemary turned to me and asked, “You mean you’ve completely lost your memory, and you can’t speak a word?”
    I nodded. I didn’t really care if I stayed or not. I had passively accepted Bianca Hill’s offer because it had seemed to make little difference where I stayed for a while. It was an easy solution as where to go and what to do, and I could leave at any time. But this new woman was one who worried me; I felt that she was probing, searching me for something. It might be curiosity, but it seemed to me stronger than that. She was beautiful enough, and undoubtedly could be quite charming if she cared to make the effort. It was obvious though, she neither liked