Free Midnight Rain: A Detective Jack Dunning Novel by Arlette Lees Page A

Chita’s car onto the road. He waves to the driver and heads down the hill. Fifteen minutes later he’s dodging the broken glass at the intersection of Cork and St. Ambrose. He parks behind the store and enters through the alley next to the stairs leading to Cookie’s apartment. He puts on his white apron, sets the vat of oil bubbling and starts a fresh batch of donuts. While the coffee’s brewing and the bread rising, he takes his broom and sweeps the glass out of the street.
    Back inside he lays pink napkins and paper plates at the small bistro table by the window and waits for Cookie to come down for their morning ritual of donuts and coffee. He regrets giving her a matrimonial ultimatum. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. After a twenty minute wait, he goes up the inner stairs and knocks on her door.
    “Cookie, it’s me.”
    No response. He tries the knob and the door drifts open. “Cookie, it’s Joe.” She’s not in the parlor or the kitchen. With increasing unease he walks to the bedroom door and sees her on the floor beside the bed.
    “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” He makes the sign of the cross and rushes to her side. It isn’t until he’s lifted her onto the bed that he sees the plum-size knot on her forehead. He’s relieved when she moans and her eyelids flutter. At least she’s alive.
    “Joe,” she says. “I’ve been calling for you all night.” Her voice is barely audible and she has the cloudy look of semi-consciousness. “The horses bolted. The buckboard flipped.”
    “That was a long time ago, dear. You have a big bump on your head?”
    “I know. I was trapped under the wheel.”
    “You lie right here. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” He’s back in a flash, helping her sit up, handing her coffee with plenty of cream to cool it. He waits patiently until she’s finished and sets the cup on the bed stand. “Are you with me now?” he asks. “It’s 1936 last time I checked.”
    “Don’t try to confuse me with numbers.”
    “Was it your heart again?”
    “I was mugged, Joe. They were after my crystal ball?”
    “You weren’t mugged, Cookie. Your purse is on the chair and there’s not a big market for crystal balls in cow country. Look at me.” He notes the swelling and bruising around her eyes, the dark circles above her cheekbones. “You’ve had one of your headaches again.”
    “I should have said something yesterday, but I didn‘t want to be a nuisance. Joe, I had one of the strangest dreams last night.” Joe thinks of Chita and suppresses a smile. He had a pretty strange one himself.
    “Did anyone die this time, in your vision I mean?”
    “I don’t know. It was interrupted by a car wreck out front.”
    “Let me get you an ice bag to bring that swelling down.” Something rolls beneath his foot. He bends over and picks up a small glass bottle.
    “I thought you weren’t going to take this stuff anymore.”
    “I only take it when I have to.”
    “When I left yesterday there was an eighth of a bottle. That’s at least four or five doses. Now it’s empty. You’re going to kill yourself with this…this… Chinese devil juice.”
    “You Italians! Why do you have to turn everything into a major crisis?”
    “Dr. McBane knows it’s dangerous, probably deadly, the old fool.”
    “If you had migraines you’d understand.”
    “I know he gives you two bottles. Where’s the other one?”
    “None of your business.”
    “Alright, I’ll find it myself.”
    “If you do, I’ll call Jack and tell him you’re stealing from me. Don’t think I won’t.”
    “Go ahead, call Jack, then Dr. McBane and Li Dock Qwan can share a jail cell. Better yet, they’ll ship Qwan back to China.”
    “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “Oh, wouldn’t I?”
    “I want you out of here!” She sinks back on the pillow as a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes.
    Joe marches to the bathroom and gets the ice bag. He goes to the kitchen, fills it with ice and tosses it on the bed.