Chasing China White, Allan Leverone [feel good books to read txt] 📗

“What’s your theory?”

“I think someone else was there, shot them both, and staged the scene to mislead the police.”

“Hanover?”

“Dead.”

“So, on top of everything, Vinnie is a murder suspect.”

“I’m hoping when the crime scene investigators are through they’ll find it couldn’t have gone down that way.”

“What was Vinnie doing there?”

“Before he lost consciousness at the scene, Vinnie left a message. He was telling us he had been betrayed. Someone Vinnie felt he could trust got him there, and back-stabbed him. That someone is who we’re looking for.”

“What can I do to help find that someone?”

“I don’t know enough yet to answer that question, but there is something you can do. Ray Boyle called to tell me he put Vinnie’s mother on a plane, can you pick her up at the airport and take her to the hospital?”

“Of course. What will you be doing?”

“I’ll be paying a polite visit to a nasty Irishman.”

3

The Blarney Stone was one of those neighborhood bars where locals came to drink breakfast.

The place was buzzing at nine in the morning.

I went to the bartender and asked for Conway. The barkeep told me to come back later, but didn’t say how much later.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Paddy.”

I might have guessed.

“Paddy, if Big Bill happens to be available sooner than later, please let him know Jake Diamond needs to talk.”

Paddy picked up the bar phone, exchanged a few words, and sent me back to Conway’s office.

“Jake Diamond. Take a seat. I’m guessing you are here about Vinnie Strings.”

“Vinnie was shot last night.”

“That’s terrible news. Is he alive?”

“Afraid you may not get what he owes you?”

“May I call you Jake?”

“Sure.”

“Jake. I was raised by an Irish mother, I’m not heartless. And that was a rude thing to say. I’ll let it go this time. I’m sure you are upset.”

“I apologize. Vinnie is alive, but it’s touch and go. Any idea about who may have wanted to hurt him?”

“None. I saw him yesterday afternoon, and I gave him a one-week grace period to square his debt. I suggested he reach out to you for help. He wasn’t too keen on that idea. Vinnie is a luckless gambler, but he has his pride. I am a businessman and I can’t tolerate being short-changed, but I actually like the kid. I have many eyes and ears around the city. If I get wind of anything at all, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“How about a drink. I have twenty-one-year-old Jameson.”

“It’s a little early for me.”

“It’s five in the afternoon in Dublin,” Big Bill said.

Click here to learn more about Crossing the Chicken by J.L. Abramo.

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Here is a preview from Tommy Shakes, a crime novel by Rob Pierce, published by All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books.

Click here for a complete catalog of titles available from Down & Out Books and its divisions and imprints.

CHAPTER ONE

Tommy Shakes used to have a junk problem, that’s how he got his name. Still shakes sometimes, like it’s part of him now. This time he shivers, his glass falls from his hand and he hits the floor. Across the bar Eddie keeps taking care of customers. On Tommy’s side they leave him on the ground.

Guy on his left: “He’s an asshole.”

On his right: “Yep.”

And Carla, the kids, everyone knows he’s here. It’s night, he’s always here. Carla’s had to pick him up enough.

Tonight maybe he ain’t getting up. And who cares if he does? He’s a drunk. If he ever goes home to that pistol he bought for Carla and uses it on himself the world’s out an asshole. He’ll be missed—even assholes have friends—but the people who miss him won’t matter as much as the people who won’t. The people who’d have loved him if he lived right—that’s the fucking problem. He might as well be dead.

He knows it but sits up on the barroom floor anyway.

“You okay?” Eddie says. “You can’t be doin’ that in here.”

Tommy looks up. “Not drunk. Maybe sick.”

Says it like he’s about to puke. He stands, shaky. Early evening but some of the crowd is like this by now. Of course, they’ve been here a while. He’s only been here a few minutes.

He looks serious at Eddie, grabs his beer glass tight, sits on his stool. “Got somethin’ for me?”

“After that?” Eddie shakes his head. “I worry about you, Tommy. You seen a doctor? Doin’ anything besides drink?”

“Just the booze, Eddie. You my doctor. And I need work. Iron out shit at home with that.”

“You never struck me as a money problems guy.”

Someone down the bar needs a drink. Eddie walks away.

Tommy sits quiet a minute, drinks his beer, finishes it a couple minutes later and waves to Eddie.

Eddie comes back and Tommy taps the top of his glass. “It don’t gotta be the world, Eddie. Any kinda thing.”

Eddie picks up the glass, talks as he turns away. “I’ll look, but I gotta see you straighter ’n this.”

“I’ll go home, rest up. You see me in a couple days, I’ll be fine. I’m never like this.”

Eddie shakes his head, sets Tommy’s filled glass on the bar. “Seen you like this before.”

“I’m not on nothin’. Must be sick, I don’t know. Find me somethin’, Eddie. I don’t get somethin’, Carla’s gonna kill me.”

“You don’t look good, Tommy. I got no work for men fallin’ down.”

“Thanks, Eddie. Back in a couple days. You’ll see.” Tommy stands.

“You gotta understand—guys gonna hear about this. You’re already on probation. Not the usual kind; the kind where no one trusts you on a job. Anyone takes you on, they gonna test you first.”

Tommy’s behind his stool, on his way out. “I know.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, “but you don’t know how they gonna test. The man starts the fight don’t get to make the rules.”

Thing he wouldn’t tell Eddie, it wasn’t just the money with Carla. How he made it pissed her off too.

“You got this way you gotta live,” she said, “this guy you