the Switch (1978) by Leonard Elmore

Author:Leonard, Elmore [Leonard, Elmore]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Published: 2011-01-21T02:29:29.437000+00:00

IN GUN BATTLE WITH POLICE

Mickey stood barefoot in the kitchen with her coffee and the Free Press, as she did every morning, and read about Richard Edgar Monk, cultist, racist, anti-Communist, ex-private security guard. Cultist. She didn't think of Richard as a cultist, she thought of him as a frightening but unsuccessful rapist. She read about his gun collection, Nazi flag, photographs, war memorabilia.

She read about a woman's purse (the same one she had carried to work her last week at Saks) found in the upstairs bedroom, cold cabbage on the stove, dishes in the kitchen sink, as though several people had been recently living in the house.

She read about the siege and about Richard with interest, though quite calmly, with a feeling she identified as relief. Richard was dead. Louis wouldn't hurt her. She wondered if Louis had seen the paper. Probably not. She bet Louis would sleep late; maybe he'd see it on the TV news later, maybe not.

She thought of calling Louis and telling him. Nine-five-six, nine-five-four-seven. She remembered the number. She was quite sure she remembered everything they had talked about. Louis, Richard, Ordell Robbie. Melanie ... Frank. Frank and Melanie. She saw Frank in lime-green paisley, his golf tan, his hands in tight pockets, elbows sticking out, cool-serious Frank entering the casino with his girlfriend. The big jerk. Old enough to be her father probably. Melanie thin, but with big boobs, overdressed, lots of fake jewelry, rings. Melanie looking at him worshipfully, listening to a replay of his golf round. Melanie would have to be pretty dumb and impressionable.

Mickey had remembered to take a pack of Salems from the cluttered pizza-beer coffee table and had forgotten to take her bra. Louis could have it.

She still didn't have one on beneath a loose cotton top and it felt good. It was good to feel clean again. She'd decide later what to do about Frank's closet, if anything. She lit a Salem, went to the wall phone and without hesitating or getting words ready, dialed the number in Freeport.

A girl's voice answered.

Mickey said, "Melanie?" and was surprised at the quiet, even tone.

The voice said, "Yeah?"

"This is Mrs. Dawson," Mickey said.

"Oh, hi."

Mickey hesitated, stopped for a moment. "Is ... Frank there?"

"No, he's out. I think he had to go to a meeting." "With the Japanese?"

"I don't know who he's with, some business guys. Hold on a minute, will you?"

Mickey waited, feeling heat rise up into her face. She waited what seemed to be several minutes. "Hi, I'm back. Any message?"

"Would you have him call me at home?"

"Sure. Bye."

Mickey replaced the phone, her hand shaking. She had believed she was ready to talk to Frank-- with an even, normal tone, on an adult level--and listen quietly, unmoved, while the son of a bitch tried to explain what he'd been doing the past four days. And she had handled herself adequately just now, considering it was the first time she had ever spoken to a known girlfriend, each aware of the other's role.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.