Read Online Knorath, Joe - Jack Daniels 03 - Rusty Nail by Konrath - Free Book Online Page A

body return to calm.
    The calm was shattered two minutes later, by a knock on my door. Ms. Walnut again, back to take revenge against the cop who stole her knife?
    I picked up my gun and peered through the peephole.
    It wasn’t Ms. Walnut. It was someone a lot worse.

 

    CHAPTER 14

    W HAT DO YOU want?” I said through the door.
    “Can’t an old friend drop by and say hello?”
    “An old friend, yes. You, no.”
    “Come on, Jackie. Open the door.”
    “No.”
    He knocked again, harder.
    “Hurry! Open up! It’s my heart! I feel a blockage in my pituitary artery! My left arm has gone numb! Jackie, for the love of God!”
    I thought about going into my bedroom and watching TV, but I knew he’d just keep bugging me until I let him in.
    “I’m dying, Jackie! Everything’s getting dark! So dark! I’m too young and too pretty to die like this!”
    I wistfully eyed the .38 I’d set on my counter, then unlocked my door.
    Harry McGlade, private investigator sub-par and namesake to the lead character in the TV series
Fatal Autonomy,
came into my apartment without being invited.
    He wore the typical Harry outfit: a wrinkled brown suit, a stained tie, a chubby face in need of a shave, and enough cologne to make my nose hurt.
    “Hiya, Jackie. What’s shaking?”
    “I see you’re still allergic to ironing.”
    McGlade tugged on his lapels like a wise guy. “This is Armani. Armani doesn’t wrinkle.”
    “Then what are all of the crinkles and creases?”
    “Those are style lines.”
    He smiled at me, the smile becoming a wince as he took in my condition.
    “Damn, what happened to you? Looks like you got into a fight with an ugly stick, and the ugly stick kicked your ass.”
    I held my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “This is the amount of patience I have left, McGlade. What do you want?”
    “I need a favor.”
    “No.”
    “It’s important.”
    “No.”
    “It’s not work-related. It’s personal.”
    “Hell no.”
    “I’m getting married.”
    “My sympathies to your fiancée.”
    “I’d like you to stand up.”
    I was about to say no again, but I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.
    “What did you just ask me?”
    McGlade spent a moment studying his shoes. Brown leather, Italian. Probably worth a fortune.
    “I need a, uh, best man. I want you to be my best man.”
    I considered all of the hurtful put-downs I could sling at him, and gave him my best.
    “Let me guess. You don’t have any friends because you’re an obnoxious bottom-feeding creep, so I’m the only person you can ask.”
    Harry shrugged. “Yeah. That pretty much covers it.”
    I rubbed my eyes, a bad move because they hurt like hell. Millennia ago, McGlade worked for the CPD and was my partner. He screwed that up, and screwed me over, which should have been the end of our relationship. But Harry kept reappearing in my life, like an antibiotic-resistant rash. He was the reason why that stupid character on that stupid TV show was named after stupid me.
    “Will you do it?”
    “I’d rather eat a box of tacks.”
    “Please?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll pay you. I’m rich.”
    “Pay someone else.”
    “I would, but my betrothed wants it to be you.”
    “She knows me?”
    “She loves the TV show.”
    That damn show. “I’m close to losing my job because of that show.”
    “Aren’t you knocking on retirement anyway, Jackie? Pretty soon you’ll be chasing bad guys with a walker.”
    It was my fault. I let him in.
    “You want me to be your best man?” I gave him a sharp poke in his chest, feeling my finger sink into pudge.
    “I’m begging you, Jackie. I’ll do anything.”
    “Kill me.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”
    “On the show. Kill my character. You’re the executive producer, right?”
    “Yeah. But an executive producer doesn’t do anything, other than collect a fat paycheck.”
    “Then find some other moron to stand up for you.”
    McGlade chewed his lower lip, and I could practically see the two