The Violet Hour Read Online Free PDF

hot one,’ Nicky said. ‘Definite cover story.’
    ‘Hit me.’
    ‘Well, to begin with, there’s some pure heroin making the rounds.’
    ‘Drugs?’ Erique said, his boredom sucking a measure of energy out of the idea. ‘Been there. Brought home a lunch box.’
    ‘Yeah? How about a face-to-face interview with a mid-level dealer?’ Nicky began, not having the slightest idea as to how he would pull that one off. ‘How about pure Chinese heroin making the rounds with the Catholic clergy?’
    ‘Clergy?’ Erique asked, suddenly a little more interested.
    ‘Yeah. Dead clergy.’ Nicky flashed on John Angelino’s ready smile and suddenly felt like a pimp. ‘I mean . . . you know . . . deceased clergy.’
    Erique was silent for a moment, the headline evidently forming in his mind. ‘We have dead folks?’ he asked.
    Got him, Nicky thought. ‘Yes. A priest and a young woman. Found him in an apartment on Cedar, found her splattered on the sidewalk.’
    ‘Yeah . . . okay . . . heard something about it.’
    ‘They also found a heroin packet stamped with a red tiger and a blue monkey. It has to be Chinese dope with marks like that, right?’
    ‘Probably . . .’
    ‘Plus, the priest was in my cousin Joseph’s parish. I can get way inside this.’ When Erique had been silent for a full twenty seconds, Nicky continued. ‘Think of it as a community service piece.’
    Erique Mars burst into high-pitched laughter. ‘Oh . . . you want to do a public service announcement? Suddenly you’re the Ad Council?’
    ‘C’mon, Erique.’
    ‘All right . . . get me something on paper by tomorrow at noon. I’ll see if I can fit you in as a “City Streets” item.’
    ‘City Streets’ was midbook, a quarter-page feature. No more than three hundred words. No more than two hundred dollars, either. ‘“City Streets”?’ Nicky said. ‘Man, why you insult me, bruh?’
    ‘Bruh?’ Erique asked.
    ‘Yeah . . . you know . . . bruh .’
    ‘I went to Cornell, Nicky. I don’t say bruh . I’ve never said bruh in my life. I played hockey, for God’s sake.’
    ‘Okay, okay,’ Nicky said. ‘Touché.’
    ‘Tooshay? That’s mah sistuh. Wutchoo want Tooshay fo?’
    ‘All right, already. Jesus. You wanna quit with that?’
    ‘Whatever you say, soul man,’ Erique said, laughing.
    Nicky pulled his heaviest weapon. ‘Remember that crack piece I did for Sunday ?’
    ‘Who can forget? Don’t you bring it up every time you pitch me a cover?’
    ‘Well, I’m still tight with the two cops I worked with on that one. I knock, I’m in. Simple as that. I can get under this like nobody you know.’
    ‘Tell you what. You put seventy-five words together as a cautionary blurb about this red-tiger dope and I’ll stick it in the “Murmurs” section up front. If you can get anywhere near the investigation into the deaths, I’ll give you a cover.’
    Yes .
    ‘I want to French-kiss you, Erique.’
    ‘Don’t go Jungle Fever on me, Nicholas,’ Erique said. ‘Tomorrow noon on the front of the book piece, right?’
    ‘Noon,’ Nicky said, thinking that he would hit Erique for the advance when he turned in the ‘Murmurs’ piece. Which he knew he would begin writing around eleven forty-five the next day. ‘Not a minute later.’

5
     
    When they opened the side door and edged into the small foyer, they could already see some of the mess in the living room. When they stepped into the kitchen, they saw the extent: an overturned planter, a dumped magazine rack, and a very penitent-looking Molson lying under the dinette table, trying to get small. His tail was on hold for the moment, straining to wag because his family had just returned home, but at the same time, clearly indicating culpability in the living-room caper. He was still too young to know whether the destruction he had wreaked made him a baddog or a reallybaddog .
    Amelia put the groceries on the countertop, exchanged an expectant glance with her