Read Online The Dreadful Lemon Sky by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Private Investigators, Mystery Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Fort Lauderdale (Fla.), McGee; Travis (Fictitious character)
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did this happen?"
"So much is happening, I'm getting confused on the dates. She was killed Wednesday night. Betty Joller was in bed and heard it on the eleven o'clock news. Betty, being her best friend, got dressed and drove to the apartment figuring my phone number would be in Carrie's phone index someplace, and I should be told. Betty has a key to the apartment that Carrie gave her. Betty got to the apartment about midnight and found it all in such a mess it took her a half hour to find my phone number. She was crying so hard I couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me. And when she did… wow, it was like the sky falling down. Carrie was seven years older, and I saw her just once in the last six years, when she came back to Nutley five years ago for our mother's funeral. I had no idea it would hit me so hard. I guess it's because she was the only close family I had left. There's some cousins I've never seen since I was a baby."
"Did Betty Joller report it to the police?"
"I don't really know. I guess she would have. I mean it would be a normal thing to tell the police about it. I told the lawyer about it, and he asked me if there was any specific thing we could report as being taken in the robbery, and I said maybe Betty could figure out what was missing, that I wouldn't know."
"Who's your lawyer?"
"He's a good friend of a girl that lives at 28 Mangrove Lane. I keep forgetting his name. But I've got his card here. Here. Frederick Van Harn. He just has to straighten out about the will and the car and all that. I guess it will be okay because he is the one who drew up the will for her. After she broke up with Ben she wanted to be sure he didn't get a dime that was hers if anything happened to her. Ben was at the funeral too, five years ago, but I can't remember him at all." She looked at her watch. "Hey I've got to get going. Betty is coming over to the inn, and we're going to work it all out about tomorrow. You're coming, aren't you?"
"Of course."
She drove away and I drove back to Westway Harbor.
Six
I PARKED my rental in one of the reserved slots. As I walked past the office toward the docks, Cindy Birdsong came to the door and said, "Can I speak to you a moment, Mr. McGee?"
"Of course."
She had changed to a white sunback dress, and she wore heels, which put her over the sixfoot line. A big brown lady with great shoulders and other solid and healthy accessories… And a mighty cool blue eye, and a lot of composure and pride.
"I want to apologize to you for the trouble my husband gave you this noon. I am very sorry it happened."
"It's perfectly all right, Mrs. Birdsong."
"It's not all right. It was a very ugly scene. If they release him on bail, I am sure he will want to apologize personally. I'm going to visit him this evening in the hospital, and I know he will be very ashamed of himself."
"He had a few over the limit."
"A few! He was pig drunk. He never used to get like… well, I shouldn't burden you with our personal history. Thank you for giving me the time. If there is anything you need we are… always anxious to serve our customers. Oh, and I meant to thank you for not signing a complaint." Her smile was inverted and bitter. "There are enough of those to go around as it is."
"If there's any way I can help…"
She blinked rapidly. "Thank you very much. Very much."
Meyer was aboard the Busted Flush, dressing after having just gotten back from taking a shoreside shower. I broke open a pair of cold beers and took him one and sat on the guest stateroom bed and watched him put on a fresh white guayabera.
"Fifteen Hundred Seaway's one of those bachelor boys and girls places," Meyer said. "Everybody seems to laugh a lot. It's very depressing. Eighty small apartments. There's a kind of… watchful anxiety about those people. It's as if they're all in spring training, trying out for the team, all trying to hit the long ball, trying to be a star. And in a sense, they're all in training. They're
"So much is happening, I'm getting confused on the dates. She was killed Wednesday night. Betty Joller was in bed and heard it on the eleven o'clock news. Betty, being her best friend, got dressed and drove to the apartment figuring my phone number would be in Carrie's phone index someplace, and I should be told. Betty has a key to the apartment that Carrie gave her. Betty got to the apartment about midnight and found it all in such a mess it took her a half hour to find my phone number. She was crying so hard I couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me. And when she did… wow, it was like the sky falling down. Carrie was seven years older, and I saw her just once in the last six years, when she came back to Nutley five years ago for our mother's funeral. I had no idea it would hit me so hard. I guess it's because she was the only close family I had left. There's some cousins I've never seen since I was a baby."
"Did Betty Joller report it to the police?"
"I don't really know. I guess she would have. I mean it would be a normal thing to tell the police about it. I told the lawyer about it, and he asked me if there was any specific thing we could report as being taken in the robbery, and I said maybe Betty could figure out what was missing, that I wouldn't know."
"Who's your lawyer?"
"He's a good friend of a girl that lives at 28 Mangrove Lane. I keep forgetting his name. But I've got his card here. Here. Frederick Van Harn. He just has to straighten out about the will and the car and all that. I guess it will be okay because he is the one who drew up the will for her. After she broke up with Ben she wanted to be sure he didn't get a dime that was hers if anything happened to her. Ben was at the funeral too, five years ago, but I can't remember him at all." She looked at her watch. "Hey I've got to get going. Betty is coming over to the inn, and we're going to work it all out about tomorrow. You're coming, aren't you?"
"Of course."
She drove away and I drove back to Westway Harbor.
Six
I PARKED my rental in one of the reserved slots. As I walked past the office toward the docks, Cindy Birdsong came to the door and said, "Can I speak to you a moment, Mr. McGee?"
"Of course."
She had changed to a white sunback dress, and she wore heels, which put her over the sixfoot line. A big brown lady with great shoulders and other solid and healthy accessories… And a mighty cool blue eye, and a lot of composure and pride.
"I want to apologize to you for the trouble my husband gave you this noon. I am very sorry it happened."
"It's perfectly all right, Mrs. Birdsong."
"It's not all right. It was a very ugly scene. If they release him on bail, I am sure he will want to apologize personally. I'm going to visit him this evening in the hospital, and I know he will be very ashamed of himself."
"He had a few over the limit."
"A few! He was pig drunk. He never used to get like… well, I shouldn't burden you with our personal history. Thank you for giving me the time. If there is anything you need we are… always anxious to serve our customers. Oh, and I meant to thank you for not signing a complaint." Her smile was inverted and bitter. "There are enough of those to go around as it is."
"If there's any way I can help…"
She blinked rapidly. "Thank you very much. Very much."
Meyer was aboard the Busted Flush, dressing after having just gotten back from taking a shoreside shower. I broke open a pair of cold beers and took him one and sat on the guest stateroom bed and watched him put on a fresh white guayabera.
"Fifteen Hundred Seaway's one of those bachelor boys and girls places," Meyer said. "Everybody seems to laugh a lot. It's very depressing. Eighty small apartments. There's a kind of… watchful anxiety about those people. It's as if they're all in spring training, trying out for the team, all trying to hit the long ball, trying to be a star. And in a sense, they're all in training. They're
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