The Ninth Nightmare Read Online Free PDF

the mirror. The man was bending over the woman on the bed and although John couldn’t hear what she was saying, it looked from the expression on her face as if she were crying and begging.
    â€˜ Ma’am !’ John called out. He heard the toilet flush, and the faucets in the bathroom basin splashing. The man who was bending over the woman on the bed moved slightly to his right, so that he obscured the woman’s face. He appeared to be jerking his left elbow backward and forward, in a strange repetitive way. John could only see the woman’s bare legs, but they were covered in huge maroon bruises and they were twitching and convulsing as the man continued to jerk his elbow.
    â€˜ Ma’am !’ John repeated. He wanted Rhodajane to see this – partly because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his own eyes, and partly because he was worried that this might be an example of what Detective Wisocky had called ‘anything out of the ordinary.’
    â€˜OK, OK! Keep your toupee on!’ The bathroom door opened, and Rhodajane stepped out, still brushing her hair. ‘Sorry if I kept you waiting but I was busting.’ She walked across the room and opened her pocketbook. ‘How much do I owe you?’
    John said, ‘The TV, ma’am. Take a look at the TV.’
    â€˜Hold up. Let me get my glasses. I can’t see a goddamned thing without my glasses.’
    As she was rummaging in her pocketbook for her purse and her spectacles, John saw a dark red stain spreading quickly across the sheet on which the woman was lying. The man stood up straight, and for a split second John could see the woman’s face again. She seemed to be staring directly at him, her eyes bulging in pain, her mouth dragged downward in a silent howl. Then the TV screen flickered and jumped, and the image of the darkened room vanished, and was instantly replaced by a commercial for HeadOn headache cure, (or nOdaeH as it appeared in the mirror.)
    Rhodajane came up behind him wearing her glasses and laid a surprisingly familiar hand on his shoulder. ‘So what did you want me to see? Not this goddamned HeadOn commercial? It must be the worst commercial ever! “HeadOn – apply directly to the forehead! HeadOn – apply directly to the forehead!” Jesus, I can hear it in my sleep!’
    â€˜No, no, not that,’ John told her. ‘There was something on The Tyra Show , that’s all. It doesn’t matter.’
    â€˜ The Tyra Show ? That crap? You have very strange tastes, Mr Eldest-Son-Of-The-King-Of-France. How much do I owe you?’
    â€˜Forty-four bucks, but let’s call it forty. The traffic wasn’t your fault.’
    Rhodajane gave him a fifty-dollar bill and said, ‘Keep the change my good man. But don’t spend it all on bacon fries.’
    John headed for the door and opened it. Before he left, though, he turned around and said, ‘Here – let me give you my cellphone number.’
    â€˜What for? I’m still not going out with you.’
    â€˜I know that. I’m not asking you to. But just in case.’
    â€˜Just in case of what , for instance?’
    â€˜Just in case something weird happens. Weird things do happen. I’ve had some pretty weird things happen to me, in my time.’
    â€˜You and that detective, you’re both as screwy as each other if you ask me. Tweedle-de-dum and Tweedle-de-dee.’
    John took a catsup-spotted business card out of his breast pocket and offered it to her. ‘More than likely, ma’am, everything’s going to be fine. But if you get spooked or anything, and you feel too reticent to phone the cops, give me a call and I can be round here in five minutes flat. I only live in Glenville.’
    Rhodajane hesitated for a moment, but then she took his card and tucked it into her cleavage. ‘OK, big boy, whatever you say. But I don’t believe for one single second that my