Read Online Stardust by Robert B. Parker - Free Book Online

curve of the window enlarged things, and when you’re a fifty regular you don’t want enlargement.
    At the far end of the lobby a solitary desk clerk shuffled paper behind the counter. A tall guy with rimless glasses was admiring the huge floral display in the middle of the lobby. Faintly, I could smell coffee, as, in the recesses of the building, the kitchen began to crank up for breakfast. Past the floral display, to the left of the wide staircase, an elevator door opened and Jill Joyce came out, along with a bulky black man in a blue blazer. The black man carried a walkie-talkie. He nodded when he saw me and moved away, and she was mine for the day.
    Jill was wearing jeans which appeared to have been applied with a spray gun, high emerald boots with three-inch heels, a white blouse unbuttoned to exactly the right depth of cleavage. She had her black mink coat thrown over her shoulders. Until you got very close she looked as if she weren’t wearing any makeup. Close up I could see that she was, and that it was so artfully applied that it gave the illusion of fresh-faced innocence, with a touch of lip gloss. She was carrying an alligator bag that was either a large purse or the carrying case for a small tuba. She handed it to me.
    â€œGood morning, cute buns,” I said.
    â€œI was hoping you’d notice.”
    We went out through the revolving door. The tall guy with the rimless glasses went out through the swinging doors to the left of the revolving door and when we reached the sidewalk he said, “Miss Joyce.”
    Jill shook her head.
    â€œNot now,” she said. “I’ve got a six-fifteen call.”
    He moved very smoothly for a geek, and he was in her path and saying, “Miss Joyce, Mr. Rojack wishes to speak with you.”
    I moved between Jill and the tall guy. “What is your wish?” I said to Jill.
    â€œI want to go to work,” she said.
    â€œMiss Joyce prefers to go to work,” I said to the tall guy.
    The tall guy’s voice flattened out like a piece of hammered tin.
    â€œBuzz off,” he said.
    â€œBuzz off?” I said. “Buzz? Off? Which one are you? Archie? Or Jughead?”
    The tall guy’s face reddened, but not enough. He was very pale with short white-blond hair and a big Adam’s apple. He put one hand, his left, gently on my chest.
    â€œJust back off, cowboy,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
    I didn’t like him putting his hand on me, but defending my honor was not the first order of business here.
    â€œLet’s go,” I said to Jill.
    I moved to the left of the tall guy, keeping Jill behind me. My car was parked on the walkway, back of the limo with the tinted windows. As we moved, one of the windows slid silently down and a guy with a fine profile looked out.
    â€œRandall,” the guy with the fine profile said, “get rid of him.”
    The tall guy smiled. The hand on my chest slid over and gripped my leather jacket. He started to turn his left hip in toward me when I kneed him in the groin. He grunted and started to sag. I turned my left shoulder in on myself and brought up a left uppercut that straightened him against, then bounced him off the car. His head banged against the edge of the car roof and he slid down the door and sat with his legs sprawled in front of him on the cold brick of the hotel turnaround.
    Behind me Jill said, “Jesus,” softly.
    I bent and looked into the car at the man with the profile. He wasn’t showing it to me. He was showing me full face, and there was a gun in his hand.
    â€œWow,” I said. “A Sig Sauer, just like the cops are getting.”
    Profile said to me, “What the hell is your name?”
    â€œZorro,” I said. “I forgot my cape.”
    â€œNever seen anyone deal with Randall quite like that.”
    â€œRandall’s too confident,” I said. “Makes him