Cold Bullets and Hot Babes: Dark Crime Stories Read Online Free Page B

MeFeeney’s were born yesterday.”
    “I suppose you called the clinic.”
    “I’m way ahead of you there. They never heard of her. Worse yet, she hasn’t shown up at The Emerald Isle all night.”
    Not showing up at her favorite haunt gave me pause.
    “I’m thinkin’ he really did her in this time,” said Mom. “Stories about this guy go back to when your Da was walking the beat.”
    I rubbed my temples as the tumblers fell into place with an ominous click.
    “Go back to bed, Mom. I’ll look into it.”
    I punched out my smoke and burned my thumb. The ashtray tumbled upside down onto the rug. It was going to be one of those nights.
    * * * *
     
    Like a 1930s movie star, Colby Stafford lounged in the doorway of his upscale townhouse in a burgundy satin robe, a teenage blonde with a black eye draped like a wilted daffodil over his arm.
    Colby was fifty-ish, clean-shaven and cologned. If you looked closely, you could see sins crawling beneath his skin like tropical parasites.
    “Oh God,” he said, in a tone of casual dismissal. “Looks like Fannon McFeeney has sent the cavalry to look for little sister.”
    He lit a lavender cigarette with a gold-tipped filter. The girl hovered over his shoulder. With a twitch of annoyance, he shrugged her away and she vanished with a pout.
    “You got lucky tonight,” I said. “Mom was ready to take Dad’s service revolver and blow your prissy shit to kingdom come.”
    “You get the same answer I gave her. I haven’t seen Rory in days.”
    I glimpsed past him into the foyer. He didn’t stop me as I leaned heavily on my cane and limped past him. I grabbed a red purse off the entry table. Back on the stoop, I rummaged through the contents. It was full of Rory’s personal items...driver’s license...makeup...hair brush.
    “Let’s start over,” I said.
    Stafford gave a world-weary sigh and flicked the rest of his cigarette into the shrubbery.
    “I lied. So fucking what? Rory kneed me in the groin when she found little Miss Tiffany in my bed. She left in a manic frenzy. That was about 10 p.m . That sister of yours is a poster child for ADD. She either needs to be medicated or zapped with a tranquilizer gun. Enough of her crap. I’m moving on with my life.”
    “Now that you’ve got her in a family way? How noble of you.”
    “Who says it was me knocked her up? It could be one of a dozen others for all I know.”
    I couldn’t say if he was right or wrong, I just wanted to bust his face.
    “DNA will clear that up fast enough,” I said.
    I handed him my card. He examined both sides with carefully manicured fingertips.
    “I see you finally made Lieutenant. I’m impressed.”
    “Give me a call if your memory improves.”
    As he slipped the card into the pocket of his robe, I saw a fresh abrasion on his knuckles, the kind you get when you punch someone in the mouth and catch an incisor for your trouble.
    “Mind if I go in and have a quick look around?”
    “Got a warrant? If you’re on active duty, I’m Peter Pan.”
    “Got something to hide?”
    “Nothing that would interest you.”
    “How did you cut your hand?”
    The skin tightened across his cheekbones and he blinked.
    “That little mick?” he said, holding out his hand. “Tiffany had the audacity to contradict me, but she’s young enough to learn.”
    “My sister was born talking back. She’ll never learn.”
    We locked eyes. This time he didn’t blink.
    “Just one last question and I’ll be out of your hair,” I said. “When Rory left here, was it on her own steam or feet first?”
    I landed on my bad knee at the bottom of the stairs before I realized I’d been socked in the jaw. A howl ripped from my throat. My cane rolled into the grass. The door slammed behind me and the porch light went out.
    I’d underestimated the enemy. He was not only quick, he packed an iron punch. In Dad’s day, I could have kicked in the damn door and shot him where he stood. Today you look cross-eyed at some