Read Online The Fifth Floor by Michael Harvey - Free Book Online Page B

once called himself my father. The death of quiet inside an apartment. A footfall on the doorstep and voices down a hallway. A quiet, dangerous sort of rumble. Something you developed an instinct for. Ten years old and creeping through the kitchen as the voices got closer. Out the back door and into the fading sunlight. Melting into the streets, into the safety of the neighborhood. I’d wait until well past midnight before heading home. Marking time with whoever was around. Listening to Bruce, walking the streets, drinking beer as I got older, fighting anyone and anything. Believing it was just another day of normal. I understood more about “Dad” than anyone would ever want. More than the kid in front of me probably ever needed to know. At least, that’s what I thought.
    “What’s he doing to your mom, Taylor?”
    She looked out the window and onto Broadway. A couple walked by, arms linked, a stroller filled with a baby in between. They looked pretty happy, but I didn’t think it registered with my young friend.
    “He’s killing her, Mr. Kelly. Bit by bit, he’s beating my mom to death and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.”
    Taylor wiped at a tear as it slid down her cheek and seemed angry over it.
    “When was the last time?” I said.
    She pulled at a napkin. I looked across at the ice-cream guy behind the counter, another teenager, this one on his cell phone and in another world.
    “It’s all the time. Every day, sometimes. Then it’s quiet for a while. Then it’s bad again.”
    I wanted to reach out, maybe touch the girl’s hand. Instead, I settled for more conversation.
    “Okay, Taylor, go on home. Don’t say anything to your mom. I’ll come by and have another talk with her.”
    “When?” The tears had stopped as quickly as they started. She dried her cheeks, folded up the napkin, and put it on the table.
    “When is he gone?” I said.
    “He’ll be gone next week. Wednesday or Thursday night, for sure.”
    “How do you know?”
    “He’s staying downtown. Some city event for the mayor. My mom is supposed to go with him, but she’s too sick.”
    “What does that mean?”
    Taylor narrowed her eyes and never looked more like her mother.
    “It means he came home last night and busted her face open. Now she can’t be seen with him and his work pals.”
    “How bad is it?”
    “I’m here, aren’t I?”
    I nodded. “Okay, I’ll stop by next week. We’ll get a plan together.”
    “I already have a plan,” she said.
    “What’s that?”
    “You kill him.” The girl looked up as she spoke, and I felt a chill.
    “No one is killing anybody, Taylor. You got that?”
    “You’re not inside that house. You don’t know.”
    I pulled my chair a little closer and muscled into the girl’s space. “You think it’s that easy to kill someone?”
    A shrug.
    “Trust me, it’s not. Have you told your mom any of this?”
    A shake of the head.
    “Okay, I’ll talk to her next week. Till then, we just let things lie.”
    I thought she was going to cry again. Or embroider her case for putting a bullet in Johnny Woods. Or maybe both. Instead, Taylor got up and walked out onto the street. I paid for the ice cream and found her waiting at the corner. There wasn’t much more to say so I put her in a taxi. Gave the cabbie her address and the fare plus twenty. Then I wandered down Broadway. Thought about my young friend and her developing taste for murder.
    A lot of folks wouldn’t see the threats of a fourteen-year-old as anything but idle. I wasn’t one of those folks. A kid can pull the trigger just as smooth and easy as anyone else. Sometimes even easier. I knew that, mostly because I’d lived it. Or close enough.
    The worst times were always late at night. The times I’d make the mistake of falling asleep and he’d get home, come looking for me. It was better when my older brother, Phillip, was there. Even if he’d been kicked quiet.
    Either way, the old man would eventually get to