Read Online Back from the Dead by Peter Leonard - Free Book Online Page A

you a ride,” she said.
    “Cab?” the bartender tried again. “Anyone?”
    “I have a car right outside. I’m Lynn, by the way,” she said, offering Hess her hand. “Lynn Risdon.”
    “Tony Brank,” he said, taking her hand in his.
    “You don’t look like a Tony.” She finished the martini and placed it on the bar top. Hess raised his hand and the bartender moved toward him.
    “Another round?”
    Hess nodded.
    “You get remarried?” Lynn said. “I don’t really care, but I guess it’s better if you didn’t.”
    “Still single,” Hess said. “Until the right woman comes along.” He thought about Anke, his mistress. She had become demanding like a wife. Wanted a commitment, wanted children. That relationship was over as well, and Hess was relieved. “What about you?”
    “Divorced,” Lynn said. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”
    An hour and three martinis later, Hess escorted Lynn Risdon to the parking lot. She was drunk. He could feel her weight, the sloppiness of her stride as she clung to him. He had watched her transform to annoying from interesting, the alcohol making her stupid and clumsy. “Where’s your car?”
    “It’s got to be around here somewhere,” she said, slurring her words, glassy eyes scanning the lot. “There ’tis.” She pointed at a white Ford Mustang.
    Hess said. “Where do you live?”
    “On Seabreeze.”
    He had passed the street a number of times, remembered it was just north of Worth Avenue.
    “Anyone in the house?”
    “Whaaat?”
    Do you live with someone?”
    “Nooo … I told you, I’m divorced.”
    “You better let me drive,” Hess said. “You can’t even stand up.”
    “I drive sitting down,” Lynn said and laughed. She reached a hand into her purse, feeling around. It took a few minutes to find the keys, half a dozen on a silver ring. She handed them to Hess. He unlocked and opened the door, sat her in the front passenger seat, leaned in, brushed her cheek with his, buckling the seat belt around her.
    She touched his face and said, “Is Mr. Scruffy growing a beard?”
    He closed the door and walked around the car and got in. “What is your address?”
    “Whaaat?” She was angled in the seat, leaning back against the door, eyes closed.
    He reached over on the floor in front of her, picked up the purse, opened it, found her wallet and driver’s license. He drove to Seabreeze Avenue, checking addresses. Lynn lived in a single-storey house hidden behind a sculpted wall of hedge four blocks from the ocean. Hess parked on the circular drive. The front porch light was on and there was a light on inside.
    He got out, went to the front door, tried several keys until he found the right one, and opened it. Went back to the car, picked Lynn up and brought her into the house and bumped the door closed with his hip. He heard voices in another room, sat Lynn on a couch in the salon, and went to investigate. A television was on in the kitchen. He turned it off.
    Adjoining the kitchen was a utility room with a washing machine and dryer. On the opposite wall built-in shelves held tools, cleaning supplies, an assortment of items, including a coil of rope which he grabbed, and a knife. Hess walked though the house. There were two bedrooms off the salon, one obviously lived in, disheveled, and the other spotless. He went back in the salon. Lynn was stretched out, sleeping on the couch. Hess bent and picked her up, carried her to her bedroom, and laid her across the double bed. He cut lengths of rope and tied her ankles and wrists while she slept.
    Hess had been in the same clothes now for twenty hours. He went into the master bathroom, undressed, turned on the shower and stood under the hot water. He dried himself with a pink bath towel, and wrapped it around his waist. Found a razor and shaving cream in the cabinet under the sink, and shaved in front of the fogged-up mirror he had to keep wiping clean with a towel.
    He dressed, feeling better, checked on