Read Online Mickey Spillane - [Mike Hammer 02] by My Gun Is Quick - Free Book Online

wasn’t what she expected, but it was comfortable and she leaned back against the cushions and let the breeze blow across her face and fluff out her hair. Her eyes closed and I thought she was asleep until she reached up and tugged off the floppy hat. Then she did go to sleep.
    I wasn’t going anywhere... just driving, taking it easy along the main stem following anybody that was ahead of me. Somehow we got to the approach of the Manhattan Bridge and it was easier to go across than to cut out of traffic. This time I was behind a truck that led the way down Flatbush Avenue at a leisurely pace. Evidently he was in no hurry, because he didn’t bother going through light changes and never jumped the reds. He set such a nice pace that when he parked at Beverly Road for ten minutes I sat behind him and waited until he came back and followed him some more. The first thing I knew we had the lights of the city behind us and were skirting Floyd Bennett Field, and the air was carrying the salty tang of the ocean with it. We crossed the bridge then and he turned left, but I didn’t follow. The winding macadam on the right led in the direction of the breezes and I took it to a gate and on into Rockaway Point.
    We had been parked for an hour before Lola woke up. The radio was turned low, making music that mingled with the air and the stars and if murder hadn’t led me here it could have been pretty nice.
    She looked at me sleepily and said, “Hello, you.”
    “Hi, kid.”
    “Where is Lola this time?”
    “At the beach.”
    “And who with?”
    “A guy called Mike... that’s me. I found you back in the city under a rock. Remember?”
    “No, but I’m glad you’re here with me.” She twisted on her hip and slouched back, looking at me. No remorse, no bewilderment. Just curiosity.
    “What time is it?”
    I said, “After midnight. Want to go home?”
    “No.”
    “Want to take a walk then?”
    “Yes. Can I take off my shoes and walk in the sand?”
    “Take off everything if you want to.”
    “Maybe I will when we get down on the beach, Mike.”
    “Don’t do anything of the kind. I’m too damn susceptible.”
    It was pretty good strolling down that narrow lane, jumping the cracks in the sidewalk and making faces at the moon. Lola slipped her hand into mine and it was warm and soft, but holding tight as though I was something worth holding on to. I was remembering what Red said, about guys like me never having to pay and I wondered how true it was.
    She took off her shoes like she wanted to and walked in the sand, kicking at mounds with her toes. When we reached the bulkhead we jumped down and walked to the water, and I took off my shoes too. It was cold, but it was nice, too nice to spoil by talking yet, and we waded up the beach, stepping up the wooden jetties and jumping to the other side, until there was nothing left but straight sandy beach, and even the houses were in the background.
    “I like it here, Mike,” she said. She let go my hand and picked up a clamshell, looking at it as if it were a rare specimen. I put my arm around her and we stepped out of the water that licked at our feet and walked to the rolling hillocks of the dunes. After we sat down I handed her a cigarette, and in the light of the flame I saw that her face had changed and was at peace with itself.
    “Cold?” I asked.
    “A little chilly. I haven’t much on under the dress.”
    I didn’t question it; I just gave her my coat, then leaned back on my elbows while she hugged her knees, staring out at the ocean.
    When she took a long last drag on the cigarette she turned around and said, “Why did you bring me out here, Mike?”
    “To talk. I need somebody to talk to.”
    She leaned back on the sand. “My mind’s unfogging, Mike,” she said. “Was it about Nancy?”
    I nodded.
    “She’s dead, Mike. I liked her, too.”
    “Who killed her?”
    There was a long moment of silence while Lola searched my face. “You’re a cop, aren’t