Читать книгу Klick's Shorts - Milam Smith - Страница 10

Vicki sat in my lap. We were in my favorite chair, facing west, watching the sun go down. Neither of us had a book. What we had were reservations at the Worthington Restaurant, for a carriage ride afterwards, then two free nights in the Worthington’s best suite.

Well, the second best. My friend Charlie Chan owned the best one, it seemed.

“So Dooley knew it was a porno thing all along?” Vicki asked. She was like a big kitten curled on top of me. I couldn’t help but stroke her back, her long black hair.

“Yeah. Seems one of his customers opened up to him. One of the last victims right before he hired me.

“Jerri turns out had a set of wigs that’d make Cher green with envy. Colored contacts. And she wasn’t hitting just book readers,” I said.

“How come I never read any of this in the paper?”

I smiled. “Well, Shinn has a way about him. Told Gerri and Jerri they had a choice: Do time for attempted assault, blackmail of me, and illegal possession of a firearm, or he’d drop ‘em from the top of the hotel.”

Vicki stared up at me with those jade green eyes that never failed to tighten up my gut, among other things. “You’re not serious?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what he said, but they copped the plea and will serve a minimum of five for her and seven for him, before parole. Let’s just way whatever he told them, it worked.”

Vicki, still staring at me, said, “Still bothering you, what you and her did?”

“Little bit. Knowing you don’t really care that I did it, makes it easier…but the old morals, they die a slow death, sometimes,” I said.

I’d once been a very religious man. Staring too long at the worst Humankind has to offer had eventually wore me down. It was either bend, or become some kind of looney-tune bible-freak standing on the corner hailing the impending doom of civilization.

From what I’d seen, there was little left ‘civilized’ about us. When I’d worked a case where the local patriarchy of a church ended up lying in court about a client of mine to cover their pattern of adultery with the sap’s wife, that’d been the last straw.

Vicki laid her head on my shoulder, giggled. “So, she show you anything I haven’t?” she asked.

I smiled. “Nothing I’d want you to show me.”

I looked down as she looked up. Our lips met. It was a tender kiss, wet without the tongue, a promise of things to come.

Perhaps there was something civilized left in us, after all.