Read Online The Dead Love Longer by Scott Nicholson - Free Book Online
Authors: Scott Nicholson
Ads: Link
know what the dead dream?
They dream about being alive.
I woke up to a commotion. I floated up the shaft to my floor, then went down the hall. The cops had discovered my body. The super must have noticed the smell and thought the toilet had backed up again.
The cops parted like the Red Sea before Moses as a hulking figure arrived. Lt. Lars Uhlgren . Ugly Uhlgren , they called him, but only behind his back. His face looked as if he could drive nails with it. His eyes were manholes filled with sewer sludge.
"The door was unlocked, Lieutenant," said a uniform. "Body's stiff. Dead maybe a day, maybe less."
Uhlgren nodded and brushed past. "Now we know what happened to those shots from the Hype. What you got?" he asked a mousy-looking tech holding a plastic bag.
"Dug some bullets out of the wall, sir. They were embedded in the concrete lathe."
Uhlgren glanced at them through the baggie. "And some people get nothing but coal in their stockings. Send them to ballistics."
Mouse nodded and scurried away. I'd worked with Uhlgren a time or two, and I'd also learned to scurry when he barked. I was a little cheered that he was on the case. He had a good solve rate.
Then I remembered that I was supposed to solve the case on my own. I couldn't count on human intervention, and my supply of divine intervention was dwindling. But I had as much right to be in the apartment as the police did. I'd paid rent through the month. So I shadowed Uhlgren .
He put on rubber gloves and searched my pockets. He found the note that Bailey had left. Next came my cigarettes, change, and lighter, then he dug into my breast pocket and pulled out three photographs.
I stood behind Uhlgren and craned my neck. The door opened and the breeze knocked me off-balance and I leaned into him. Not just against him, but into him. He shivered and glanced around, his heavy eyebrows low.
I drifted backward, stunned by what I had seen. Two photos were of a nude Bailey, her face hidden but her melons clearly recognizable, lying seductively on my bed. The other photograph was of Bailey and me holding hands, taken when we were heading to the coffee house. The way we were hunched made it look as if we were lovers sneaking off for a rendezvous. Obviously, that photo hadn't been in my pocket when I died, because Bailey had been walking with a ghost at the time the picture was taken.
"Hmm," said Uhlgren . "Old Steele got himself a babe. What they say must be true. It ain't looks that women are after."
You're one to talk, Ugly, I thought.
Uhlgren glanced around the room and saw Lee's portrait on the TV set. He looked from the photos in his hand back to Lee again. " Two beauty queens? I'm starting to lose my faith in romance."
He passed the photos to a detective, a guy who looked like a budget Fred Astaire. "See anything strange?" Uhlgren asked.
Budget Fred held the snapshots close to his face. He shook his head. "Nope."
"Steele's legs."
"Looks like a bad exposure."
Uhlgren smiled, a rare sight. "Damned feet ain't touching the ground."
"Maybe he was jumping for joy. I know I would be, playing smoochie -face with her."
Uhlgren looked down at my body, then knelt again with a pop of his knee. He reached inside my jacket to my shirt pocket, his tongue tucked in the corner of his lips. He came away with another note that I didn't know I'd had. Uhlgren was making like a modern-day Houdini. Next I expected him to pull out a rabbit or maybe a bouquet of dead flowers.
I hovered over him as he unfolded the note. Written on scrap paper were the words, Forget her, Richard my love. So what if she threatened to kill me? She can't keep us apart. Thanks for the great time last night. Love always, Bootsie .
Wonderful. I couldn't think of a single witness who could prove that I'd spent the night before my death with a James Herbert novel. I hadn't even snored loudly enough to wake the neighbors. As far as the cops were concerned, I was a two-timing dirty dog they would have envied
They dream about being alive.
I woke up to a commotion. I floated up the shaft to my floor, then went down the hall. The cops had discovered my body. The super must have noticed the smell and thought the toilet had backed up again.
The cops parted like the Red Sea before Moses as a hulking figure arrived. Lt. Lars Uhlgren . Ugly Uhlgren , they called him, but only behind his back. His face looked as if he could drive nails with it. His eyes were manholes filled with sewer sludge.
"The door was unlocked, Lieutenant," said a uniform. "Body's stiff. Dead maybe a day, maybe less."
Uhlgren nodded and brushed past. "Now we know what happened to those shots from the Hype. What you got?" he asked a mousy-looking tech holding a plastic bag.
"Dug some bullets out of the wall, sir. They were embedded in the concrete lathe."
Uhlgren glanced at them through the baggie. "And some people get nothing but coal in their stockings. Send them to ballistics."
Mouse nodded and scurried away. I'd worked with Uhlgren a time or two, and I'd also learned to scurry when he barked. I was a little cheered that he was on the case. He had a good solve rate.
Then I remembered that I was supposed to solve the case on my own. I couldn't count on human intervention, and my supply of divine intervention was dwindling. But I had as much right to be in the apartment as the police did. I'd paid rent through the month. So I shadowed Uhlgren .
He put on rubber gloves and searched my pockets. He found the note that Bailey had left. Next came my cigarettes, change, and lighter, then he dug into my breast pocket and pulled out three photographs.
I stood behind Uhlgren and craned my neck. The door opened and the breeze knocked me off-balance and I leaned into him. Not just against him, but into him. He shivered and glanced around, his heavy eyebrows low.
I drifted backward, stunned by what I had seen. Two photos were of a nude Bailey, her face hidden but her melons clearly recognizable, lying seductively on my bed. The other photograph was of Bailey and me holding hands, taken when we were heading to the coffee house. The way we were hunched made it look as if we were lovers sneaking off for a rendezvous. Obviously, that photo hadn't been in my pocket when I died, because Bailey had been walking with a ghost at the time the picture was taken.
"Hmm," said Uhlgren . "Old Steele got himself a babe. What they say must be true. It ain't looks that women are after."
You're one to talk, Ugly, I thought.
Uhlgren glanced around the room and saw Lee's portrait on the TV set. He looked from the photos in his hand back to Lee again. " Two beauty queens? I'm starting to lose my faith in romance."
He passed the photos to a detective, a guy who looked like a budget Fred Astaire. "See anything strange?" Uhlgren asked.
Budget Fred held the snapshots close to his face. He shook his head. "Nope."
"Steele's legs."
"Looks like a bad exposure."
Uhlgren smiled, a rare sight. "Damned feet ain't touching the ground."
"Maybe he was jumping for joy. I know I would be, playing smoochie -face with her."
Uhlgren looked down at my body, then knelt again with a pop of his knee. He reached inside my jacket to my shirt pocket, his tongue tucked in the corner of his lips. He came away with another note that I didn't know I'd had. Uhlgren was making like a modern-day Houdini. Next I expected him to pull out a rabbit or maybe a bouquet of dead flowers.
I hovered over him as he unfolded the note. Written on scrap paper were the words, Forget her, Richard my love. So what if she threatened to kill me? She can't keep us apart. Thanks for the great time last night. Love always, Bootsie .
Wonderful. I couldn't think of a single witness who could prove that I'd spent the night before my death with a James Herbert novel. I hadn't even snored loudly enough to wake the neighbors. As far as the cops were concerned, I was a two-timing dirty dog they would have envied
Similar Books
