Free Jack Daniels Six Pack by J. A. Konrath Page B

Jack to know who did this to her. Even more, when this is all over, he wants the cops and the world to know that they could have stopped him, if they’d only been smarter.
    But they’ll only see the connection after he’s long gone.
    Floyd takes everything, making an obvious effort not to look directly at his face. Smart business.
    “Whaddaya want done to her?” he says, eyes on a TV at the end of the bar.
    “Break her knees.” The Gingerbread Man grins. The idea that Jack will be forever crippled is appealing. When he calls on her, she won’t be able to run.
    Floyd says he’ll get someone on it right away, maybe even tonight.
    In the meantime, he has to dump the whore. It’s been a delightfully busy day, and he’s tired, but if he keeps her around too long she’ll begin to stink. More than one killer has been caught because neighbors complained of the smell coming from the death house.
    So he has to do the garbage can trick again. Labor intensive, but effective. While it would be much easier just to dump her in the sewer, he wants the body to be discovered right away. The networks will eat it up.
    Something for Jack to watch on TV while she’s recuperating in the hospital.

Chapter 13
    M Y ANSWERING MACHINE WAS BLINKING WHEN I got back to my apartment. It was Don. He didn’t want me back, but he did want the rest of his furniture, and for me to arrange having it put into storage. I was to call with the storage location.
    Right. And then I might also slip him a few bucks.
    I decided to be fair and meet him halfway. I called him back and got a deep female voice on the answering machine that identified itself as Roxy. I informed her and Don that I would move all of his things . . . out into the hall.
    He had a lot of crap, and it took almost two hours. When I was finished the apartment looked barren. Except for my grandma’s rocking chair, a beanbag, the bed, and my cheap dinette set, every other stick of furniture was his. I was shocked to find out I only had one lamp. It was a crappy lamp too, with a switch that didn’t work unless you wiggled it. I must have had more lamps before he moved in, so what the hell happened to them?
    The only conclusion I could draw was that once he moved his things in, he began moving my things out. I suppose I never noticed because I never paid much attention. Or maybe it was because I was rarely home.
    It’s a wonder he left me.
    I checked the fridge for food products and managed to put together a salami and mustard on rye. The mustard was Don’s, some imported brand that cost more per ounce than silver. It was too tangy. When I was done with the sandwich I tossed the mustard into the hall with the rest of his things.
    Flipping through my mental appointment book, I checked out my itinerary for tonight. It would be a titillating evening of television, then tossing and turning in bed trying to fall asleep.
    Be still my beating heart.
    I considered making a drink and drawing a bath, but then I was seized by a fit of spontaneity and decided to actually go out and do something. Two nights in a row. I’m such a party animal.
    Changing into jeans and a sweatshirt, I once again took the route to Joe’s Pool Hall. The night was crisp, and it being Friday, the streets were packed with kids. I passed a group of guys who were tossing out catcalls to every girl that passed.
    They didn’t catcall me at all, the little snots.
    Joe’s was busier than usual, but Phineas Troutt had secured a corner table, methodically pocketing ball after ball. He wore khakis and an open flannel shirt over his T-shirt. I bought two beers and carried them over.
    “Are you looking for a game, or do you want to play with yourself all night?” I asked.
    He banked an eight into the side pocket.
    “You willing to put money on it?”
    “I got two bucks says I kick your butt.”
    “That’s a boastful two bucks.”
    I let him see the color of my money, tossing two singles on the rail as if they were hundreds.