Read Online Killer On A Hot Tin Roof by Livia J. Washburn - Free Book Online

closed his hand around Burleson’s skinny arm. “Come on.” It was an order now, issued in a hard, angry voice.
    “Take it easy, Michael,” Tamara said. “Mr. Burleson wants to listen to some music. I don’t see any harm in it, especially when it’s as good as that song they’re playing now.”
    Burleson beamed up at her. “You like Dixieland, my dear?”
    “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “I like all sorts of music.”
    “So do I, so do I.” With his free hand, Burleson waved toward the seat on the other side of the booth. “Why don’t you sit down and join me? Why don’t all of you?” He lowered his voice a little and added, “Michael, you’re hurtin’ me.”
    With what sounded like a muttered curse, Frasier let go ofthe old man’s arm. In a strangled voice, he said, “All right, we’ll all sit down for a little while. But then we have to go back to the hotel, all right, Howard?”
    Burleson had started nodding along with the music. “That’ll be fine.” His skinny body swayed a little from side to side. He smiled at Tamara and said, “You sit down here next to me, honey.”
    I could tell that Frasier didn’t like that idea at all. He would have preferred to keep Dr. Paige as far away from Burleson as he possibly could. But for now, he was trying to play along with the old man in hopes of cajoling him out of there that much sooner. I could see that cold calculation on his face.
    Burleson slid over enough for Tamara to sit down beside him. Meanwhile, Will, Frasier, and I crowded into the other side of the booth. I was between the two men and didn’t like it. Sitting next to Michael Frasier was sort of like cuddling up with a badger.
    “Y’all need somethin’ to drink now,” Burleson said. He started to raise a hand to signal the waitress, but Frasier shook his head.
    “We’re fine, Howard. We won’t be here very long, remember? We have to get back to the hotel.”
    “It’s a nice hotel,” Burleson said. “I remember it, although I don’t think I ever stayed there before. I had a place on the Vieux Carré, a little apartment where Tom sometimes visited me. Mostly, though, we came here to listen to the music and sip on cordials. It was a wonderful time, just wonderful. The light had more colors in it then, and when the breeze blew, it was like warm fingers caressin’ your face. If only things could have stayed like that, instead of the years ravagin’ us all with those horrible appetites of theirs. If only time wouldn’t rip those moments of happiness away from us like it was jealous and couldn’t stand to see us that way …”
    Despite his age, Howard Burleson still had a warm, rich voice, and when he started talking that way, I enjoyed listening to him. Maybe he really had known Tennessee Williams. The reminiscences reminded me of the voice that permeated Williams’s plays.
    “It was right here,” Burleson went on. “Right here at this very table.” He patted its scarred surface again, not keeping time with the music now but more of a tender gesture, like a man touching the head of an old and beloved pet.
    “What was right here, Mr. Burleson?” I asked.
    Before he could answer, Frasier leaned forward and practically snarled, “Not one word, Howard, you hear me? Not … one … word.”
    “Let the man talk,” Tamara said with a quick frown at Frasier. Then she turned to the old man and went on, “What was it, Mr. Burleson? What happened here?”
    Frasier made a strangled sound, and for a second I thought he was going to leap across the booth and clap a hand over Burleson’s mouth. That was the only way he could have stopped the words that came from Burleson’s lips.
    But he held himself in check, and Howard Burleson said, “Why, it was right here at this very table, darlin', that I wrote
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
”

C HAPTER 6
    T hat statement flabbergasted three of us at the table.
    Frasier was the only one who wasn’t surprised. He put his elbows on the table,