Read Online Caper by Parnell Hall - Free Book Online Page B

he’d agreed to do it, the guy was actually getting off on being a hero. He led us through the tables, saying, “Excuse us, please. Sick customer coming through.”
    Glancing over my shoulder I saw the congressman coming back. Damn. Why couldn’t he stay for a joint? He’ll reach the table and raise the alarm.
    No, he won’t. He’ll assume she came to and went to the bathroom.
    But then he would have passed her.
    What the hell will he assume?
    Will he hear the words “sick customer,” and put two and two together?
    Why should he? Surely people’s lives aren’t so dreary they’d still be discussing our impromptu exit.
    Damn. How big was this fucking room? Where the hell’s the door?
    We reached it, went through the lobby, outside, and down the front steps.
    I stuck a twenty in his hand. “Thanks, man. Get back to you tables. I can take it from here.”
    He grinned and left.
    The doorman, attracted by the size of the bill, came over. “Need some help?”
    â€œI need a cab. Can you get me one?”
    â€œWhere to?”
    â€œThirtieth Street Station.”
    â€œCar service would be cheaper.”
    â€œI don’t care what’s cheaper, just what’s quicker. My daughter’s sick. I want to get her in a cab.”
    â€œWait right here.”
    The doorman ran out in the street, blew his whistle like he was a referee calling the most flagrant foul in the history of the NBA.
    A taxi in the passing lane slammed on its brakes, cut off a bus, and swerved in the entrance.
    I slipped the doorman a bill, which was not lost on the cabby, and hopped in. The doorman slammed the door, and the cab took off.
    Through the rear window I could see the congressman appear in the door of the nightclub.
    He didn’t look happy.

16
    E VER HANG AROUND A TRAIN STATION WITH AN UNCONSCIOUS girl? It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Aside from the strong possibility of being mistaken for the very pervert you’re attempting to save her from, there is also the simple logistical problem of keeping her upright. The damn benches don’t have sides. Or arms. Or anything to lean a young girl against in order to keep her from slumping sideways, or keeling over on the floor, a dead giveaway that something is wrong.
    I managed to prop her up while I bought a ticket. Two tickets, actually. Expenses were adding up. I hoped Mama wouldn’t be mad.
    I sat down next to Sharon, put her book bag in her lap, angled her head in the right direction, and acted out a scenario in which the parent is lecturing the stubborn child, who has closed her eyes and is pretending not to listen. I doubt if it fooled anyone. On the other hand, I doubt if anyone was paying attention.
    Meanwhile, I kept watching the door, in case the congressman should burst in. Which I fully expected to happen. It didn’t, which confused me. What was wrong with the perverts today? No resolve, no gumption. Damned if I’d ever vote for him again.
    The light blinked for our train. I held Sharon up, walked her through the gate.
    This was the part where the guy checking tickets says, “All right, buddy, what you trying to pull?” He didn’t. We sailed right through, Sharon teetering on wobbly legs like a seasoned pro.
    I had a little trouble getting her up the steps of the train, but no one was looking. At least no one in authority. I got her up, marched her in, found a seat, sat her down. Propped her up against the window, peered out to see if any congressmen were running down the track. None were.
    â€œGo to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there,” I said for the benefit of no one in particular.
    I wondered how long it would take the drug to wear off. I had a little more, if I needed it, but I didn’t know how I’d get her to swallow it. When I had my EEG I think I slept about an hour. Maybe more. Times flies when you’re asleep. Try as I would, I