Tinseltown Riff Read Online Free PDF Page B

                                                                                                                           
    Deke shoved him out of the way.
    But he countered by rushing past him again, blocking Deke’s way out while  fumbling for the latch on the screen door.  
    Deke grabbed a handful of billowy jacket, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. But the second he reached back for the case, the little guy beat him to it and took off.
    Hurrying after him, Deke jerked open the screen door, leaped off the porch into the tree shadows, lunged forward and grabbed hold of his sleeve. But it was so loose, he slipped out of it, leaving Deke tripping over his own feet.     
    Cursing, Deke sprang forward and darted through the overarching stands of pine till he spotted him in the shadowy near distance smacking into a low-lying branch that sent his glasses flying.
    Reaching the slope, rushing headlong now, Deke closed in, drawing closer and closer to the darting figure and the running river below. In the back of his mind, he knew you don’t  scamper down a steep incline of loose soil, rocks and brush and suddenly brake the momentum of a guy weighing at least a hundred and forty pounds. But he did it anyway, lurched at an impossible angle, grabbed hold, hoisted the squirming body and shoved him toward the rock slabs below. The only thing that prevented Deke from inflicting further damage was the wrenching spasm in his lower back.
    Ignoring the whimpering cries, he turned around, shambled back up the rocky slope and foraged for the attaché case which he easily located a few yards over in the brush. Clutching his twinging muscles with one hand and the case with the other, he straggled back up the remaining distance. All the while, he barely heard the calls near the river’s edge. He also barely heard the tail end of the last-ditch plea:
    â€œWait a minute. My ankles twisted, maybe busted. You can’t just leave me here ...  Okay, I downloaded the files, sure. But that’s nothing compared to what you’ve got yourself in for ... I mean, you’ve really done it now. You hear me?”
    â€œUh-huh,” Deke mumbled to himself, straining as he approached the top of the rise. “Tell me about it.”
    â€œI mean, for God’s sake!  You’ve got to call somebody. You have to at least do that!”
    Deke tried to imagine putting in a call for some paramedics. But the notion didn’t take.  He could also just hear what would happen if he got Walt in on it:
    What you got here, Deacon, is a whole can of worms and I don’t know what-all if he survives.  Might could finger you for openers.  Get hold of government and law enforcement agencies besides. Plus a short circuit with some cartel or what in hell this whole thing’s all about. Just goddamn stop and think.   There’s always consequences, things you don’t figure on .
    But that was Walt for you. Walt could come up with more worries than an old hen.  It was all Deke could do to get back to the car. Back to where he could cross off this first pain-in-the-ass item without getting hogtied with wet-nursing by the river bed and a bunch of lame what-ifs.
    He did, however, wonder what Walt would make of the smartphone, wallet and ID as a kind of insurance. But put that possible leverage on hold.   
    Wincing, paying the fading cries for help no mind, Deke double-backed along the rim of the ridge, the remaining glints of daylight melding with the murky shades of green and gray. The attaché case was almost