Read Online The Killer in My Eyes by Giorgio Faletti - Free Book Online

the game, but had drifted into a peaceful sleep.
    He was jolted out of it by the ringing of the cordless telephone on the low table next to him.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Jordan, I’m in deep shit.’ His brother’s voice was agitated.
    ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘I just killed a man.’
    ‘What do you mean “I just killed a man”?’
    ‘I was on my way home after meeting with LaFayette. At a traffic junction, this guy just shot out without giving way. I was going quite fast myself, and hit him straight on, but it wasn’t my fault.’
    ‘Are you sure he’s dead?’
    ‘Christ, Jordan, I’m not a doctor, but I fought in a war. I know when someone’s dead.’
    ‘Are there any witnesses?’
    ‘At this hour, in winter? I’m in open country. I doubt they get more than three cars passing in a week.’
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘Near High Falls, on the other bank of the Hudson, due south. Do you know where it is?’
    ‘Yes, no problem. I’m on my way. Don’t do a thing till I get there. And above all don’t touch anything in the other car. Have you got that? If anything happens, call me on my cellphone.’
    ‘Jordan . . . hurry.’
    ‘OK. I’ll be right there.’
    He had grabbed a winter jacket, left the house and set off in his Honda. When he had reached the scene of the accident and got out, a glance had been sufficient to take in the situation. The Jaguar was in a ditch, on the opposite side of the junction from which Christopher had come. The left rear side was crumpled and a wheel stood out at a twisted angle. Across the road was an old pick-up in an equally bad condition, facing in the opposite direction. Through the shattered windshield, he saw a body slumped over the steering wheel. From the marks on the asphalt, it was clear what had happened. He could see where the Jaguar had braked, and where the pick-up had spun around after the impact. Pieces of glass and plastic lay on the ground.
    He had gone to the pick-up and touched the neck of the middle-aged man at the wheel. There was no pulse. He looked around. There was no sign of Christopher.
    ‘I’m here, Jordan.’
    Christopher had emerged from a clump of bushes, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
    ‘I wasn’t sure it was you, so I thought it was best to get off the road,’ he said, his breath turning to steam in the cold air. ‘What do we do now, Jordan?’
    It had only taken Jordan a moment to make up his mind. ‘Take my car, go home, and stay there.’
    ‘Do you realize what you’re saying?’
    ‘In the ultimate scheme of things, a good mayor is more important than a good cop. Do as I say.’
    They stood there for a moment looking each other in the eyes. Two pairs of blue eyes, the only thing they really had in common. Then Christopher had got in the Honda and started the engine. Before driving off, he leaned out of the window.
    ‘I know what you’re doing and I’ll never forget it.’
    Jordan had stood there watching the car lights becoming smaller and smaller and disappearing into the distance. Then he called the sheriff’s office in Rhinecliff, switched on the indicators of the two vehicles, and settled down to wait next to the half-wrecked Jaguar, with a dead man and his own thoughts for sole company.
    He had lit a cigarette and smoked it all the way through as he waited.
    By the time he heard the sirens approaching, he had known that this night was one he would never forget. He had given his personal details to the deputy sheriff and declared that he had been at the wheel of the car belonging to Christopher Marsalis. Naturally he had been given a breathalyzer test, and had had to admit he’d drunk half a bottle of whisky.
    Fortunately things hadn’t turned out so badly because the post mortem on the victim had revealed that he had died of a heart attack. In other words, the driver had lost control because he was already dead at the moment of the collision, which was why there had been no criminal proceedings againt Jordan.
    All