Walk a Black Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

voice.
    â€œCome here,” his voice said.
    The sounds on the other side of the panel were meaningless except in my mind. I imagined them, a man and woman close together. I saw Keefer holding her roughly, because that would be his pose. Her head was against his shoulder. The need in her voice was now stronger than the fear.
    â€œYou were really through with Fran, Frank? All over?”
    â€œThree months ago, Cele. I had plans, sure. You can’t blame a man for trying for the bonanza. But she tossed me over, and what does Frank Keefer do against the Crawfords? I told Joel the hell with it, I wanted you. I mean it.”
    His voice didn’t convince me, not all the way, and I imagined his eyes not quite looking at her as she looked up at his face. But that was a projection of how I would act. Keefer was probably looking straight at her and smiling.
    â€œFrank?” her voice said. “What happened to Francesca?”
    â€œDon’t know, baby. I got down here Tuesday. I went to your place, no one was there. I called Bel-Mod, they said you were out of town. Wednesday night I went to see if you were home yet. The cops were there, I heard Fran’s name. I got out. Yesterday, I saw the story in the paper.”
    Beyond the wall he began to pace. “She’d been strange a while up in Dresden. Sort of keyed up. When she broke off, she said I was just another big fake. I was mad, so was Uncle Joel—all his big plans for getting in with the Mayor. He got drunk, had a fight with Fran. It was the last I saw of her.”
    Keefer stopped pacing, and there was no sound or movement on the other side of the wall. Until Celia Bazer spoke.
    â€œLet’s go home, Frank. Get out of this city.”
    He didn’t answer, but I pictured him nodding, and he picked up the telephone. He asked for a bellhop. I left room 411, and went down to the lobby to wait.
    They came out of the elevator with an ancient bellman who struggled with three bags. Frank Keefer carried the other two bags—Celia Bazer was his woman again. While he paid, I went out ahead of them, and ran to the corner to try for a taxi. The first three were taken. I looked back and saw Keefer loading the bags into a flashy red Buick convertible. I saw something else, too.
    As an empty cab stopped for me, a man in a camel’s hair topcoat walked past and got into a green Cadillac parked behind me. The same Caddy I had seen before going into the hotel. All at once I knew he was tailing me. I could find the girl and Keefer in Dresden. I wanted to talk to my tail.
    I gave the cabbie my office address. The Cadillac came behind us, far enough back to make me know he didn’t want to be noticed. The taxi dropped me at my building. I went up.
    My corridor was as dark and empty as usual. That was fine now. I ran into my office, turned on the light, and got my big old pistol. There was a janitor’s closet near the stairs. I made it, left the door open a crack, as footsteps came up.
    He passed like a shadow. I saw good shoulders, but he was two inches shorter than me. I slid out behind him. Sometimes I forget I have only one arm, but this time I had my gun for a club, at least. He heard me, and turned.
    I had a glimpse of a high coat collar, a low hat brim, two dark eyes, and some very white teeth—and no more. He lunged at me without hesitation. I swung my heavy pistol for his skull—and hit nothing at all.
    He was there, and then he wasn’t. Something hit me in the belly. A hard fist in my face. I hit the wall with my back, swung my pistol at him again, and missed again. Two fists hit one-two in my belly, another landed solid on my jaw. He had three arms, at least. I thought how unfair that was as my chin was hit and I landed on the corridor floor on my face.

5.
    He turned me over. I saw a face that was broad and olive-skinned. A gray homburg, gray coat—No! A camel coat …
    â€œFortune?”
    He grew smaller and smaller