Free Night Kills by John Lutz Page A

oughta be used to them.”
    â€œBeing used to them doesn’t mean I don’t hope they should all come down with the plague.” She raised her voice. “Lord, deliver to them locusts and fire and sickness, and let them drive fareless through eternity.”
    David chuckled and held Shellie closer in the softly upholstered backseat. “Did I mention to you Sis has a bit of a temper?”
    â€œI hope it isn’t hereditary,” Shellie said. She saw with relief that the cab had pulled a safe distance ahead.
    â€œDavid fights a constant battle with his genes,” Gloria said, from the front seat. “Not to mention the devil. Or maybe it’s all the same thing.”
    The cab’s brake lights flared and it slowed abruptly, causing Gloria to stand on the brakes and the big Chrysler to cant forward. “Now that this asshole’s ahead of me, he doesn’t wanna go fast,” Gloria said. “The guy’s a great argument for the legalization of hand grenades.”
    â€œEase up,” David said. “You don’t want to attract attention now.”
    Shellie thought that was an odd thing for him to say, but she was too comfortable and drowsy to give it much thought. She decided her life was fully in Gloria’s hands and there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she closed her eyes, rested her head against David’s warm shoulder. There were times when the wisest and easiest course was to be a fatalist.
    Â 
    Shellie came awake when the car stopped. She heard a low rumbling louder than the engine. She’d dozed off, but had no idea how long she’d been sleeping.
    David’s arm was around her. He realized she was awake and gave her a comforting squeeze.
    They’d reached their destination. Through the wide front windshield Shellie saw a gray steel overhead door rising. Beyond it, headlights illuminated a dark area with some barrels and boxes stacked on one side. About fifty feet beyond them was a brick wall, obviously very old. The wall bulged inward. The bricks were no longer aligned and ledges of broken gray mortar protruded from between them like too much icing between layers of cake. There was an old wooden workbench with what looked like tools stacked on it in the shadows near the wall.
    â€œApartment’s upstairs,” Gloria explained, nudging the accelerator so the big Chrysler glided inside. “It’s furnished better than the garage.”
    â€œMuch better,” David said. “And it doesn’t smell like petroleum products.” He bowed his head and kissed Shellie’s just above the bridge of her nose.
    The overhead door descended with a clatter and closed behind them. Gloria turned off the engine, and the garage was suddenly very quiet. The headlights were on time delay and stayed on. They deepened the shadows not directly in their twin beams.
    In the dimness of the car’s interior, Gloria glanced over her shoulder. “Be careful getting out and walking. There’s a plastic drop cloth on the floor because the car leaks oil.” The Chrysler’s interior light came on, and before David or Shellie could move, Gloria climbed out of the car and threw a wall switch.
    The light from two bare overhead bulbs didn’t cheer up the garage at all. The carelessly stacked fifty-gallon barrels were rusty. The cardboard boxes were taped, unlabeled, and coated with dust. Leaning against them was a tall roll of something opaque, maybe more plastic sheeting. There were no windows.
    David got out of the car before Shellie and held the door open for her, like a gentleman. She was still a little drowsy, unsteady, and needed his support.
    â€œBefore we go upstairs,” he said, “I have a present for you.”
    â€œPresent?” Shellie saw Gloria get an unfolded black umbrella from where it was leaning in the shadows by the boxes and lay it on the car’s hood. The cooling engine began to tick.
    â€œA