Read Online Tight Lines by William G. Tapply - Free Book Online
Authors: William G. Tapply
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about to get mugged on the Boston Common. If I was lucky I might not be murdered.
9
W ITHOUT TURNING AROUND, AND with his fingers digging painfully into the flesh above my elbow, I said, “What do you want?”
“C’mon. Over here, where I can see you.”
He steered me toward a bench. I had never been mugged before. This was not how I would have imagined it.
“Siddown.”
I sat. He sat beside me, still holding my arm.
“You can let go,” I said. “I promise not to flee.”
To my surprise, he let go.
I turned to look at him. He had closely cropped iron-colored hair, bushy gray eyebrows, a few days’ worth of heavy black-and-white bristle on his cheeks. His eyes were small and dark and surrounded by puffy flesh. There was a large bump on his nose where it took a right-angle turn toward the left.
He looked more or less like Buddy Hackett in a bad mood.
“So who the fuck are you, anyways,” he said.
“My name is Brady Coyne,” I said. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Dave Finn,” he said. “I’m a friend of Mary Ellen.”
“You’re not gonna mug me?”
Then he grinned. And he looked even more like Buddy Hackett. “Nah,” he said. “Sorry about that. Christ, you walk fast. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“About Mary Ellen?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I knew she had another guy. Drove me nuts. She wouldn’t admit it. She ever tell you about me?”
“I’m her—” I stopped. “No. She never did.”
“You musta suspected, though, huh?”
I shrugged.
“I admit I was jealous as hell,” he said, tugging at his nose. “But now I’m just worried. So if she’s with you or something, okay, best man wins, all that shit. I just wanna know she’s okay.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m her mother’s lawyer, that’s all. I don’t know Mary Ellen. I’ve never even met her. I need to do some business with her.”
“You’re not that guy?”
“I told you, I’ve never met her.”
He shook his head slowly back and forth. “Well, shit. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know where she is either?”
“Nope. Been calling. Ever since she stood me up. Figured, fuck it, so she found some younger guy. What beautiful young gal like her’d wanna marry an ugly old bastard like me anyway? But, damn. She suckered me good, tell you that. Assumed it was you, comin’ around to pick up some of her things. The guy at the desk said you was there earlier, might be comin’ around again. I wanted to get a look at you.” He cocked his head, looking at me. “Shoulda known when I seen you. Figured it hadda be somebody younger than you.”
“Marry you? She’s going to marry you?” I said.
“You think that’s funny?”
I shrugged.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’. Ugly old pug like me, rich lady like Mary Ellen, so beautiful and refined and all. Hey, I didn’t believe it myself. But, yeah, we’re plannin’ on it.” He took a deep breath. “I dunno. Guess maybe we’re not. Guess she run off with the other guy. Not you, huh?”
“No. Not me. What do you know about this other man?”
“Nothing. Diddlysquat. I know there’s some other guy. That’s all.”
“Guy with a ponytail and earring? Old hippie type?”
Dave Finn frowned. “Nah. I don’t think so. I know who that is. That’s some old buddy of hers. Fella name of Raiford. Sid Raiford. She usta work with him in some bookstore. No, this is some other guy. I don’t think her and Raiford are like that.”
“An Arab, maybe?” I said.
“Huh?”
“The other man. Is he an Arab?”
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t know who the fuck he is. I don’t think it’s Raiford, that’s all. I thought it was you. He could be an Arab or a Greek or a fuckin’ Russian for all I know. I mean, I oughta be able to figure it out, but I can’t. Fuckin’ detective, and I can’t even get a line on some guy my gal’s run off with.”
“You’re a detective?”
He snorted a quick ironic laugh through his L-shaped nose. “Not a
9
W ITHOUT TURNING AROUND, AND with his fingers digging painfully into the flesh above my elbow, I said, “What do you want?”
“C’mon. Over here, where I can see you.”
He steered me toward a bench. I had never been mugged before. This was not how I would have imagined it.
“Siddown.”
I sat. He sat beside me, still holding my arm.
“You can let go,” I said. “I promise not to flee.”
To my surprise, he let go.
I turned to look at him. He had closely cropped iron-colored hair, bushy gray eyebrows, a few days’ worth of heavy black-and-white bristle on his cheeks. His eyes were small and dark and surrounded by puffy flesh. There was a large bump on his nose where it took a right-angle turn toward the left.
He looked more or less like Buddy Hackett in a bad mood.
“So who the fuck are you, anyways,” he said.
“My name is Brady Coyne,” I said. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Dave Finn,” he said. “I’m a friend of Mary Ellen.”
“You’re not gonna mug me?”
Then he grinned. And he looked even more like Buddy Hackett. “Nah,” he said. “Sorry about that. Christ, you walk fast. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“About Mary Ellen?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I knew she had another guy. Drove me nuts. She wouldn’t admit it. She ever tell you about me?”
“I’m her—” I stopped. “No. She never did.”
“You musta suspected, though, huh?”
I shrugged.
“I admit I was jealous as hell,” he said, tugging at his nose. “But now I’m just worried. So if she’s with you or something, okay, best man wins, all that shit. I just wanna know she’s okay.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m her mother’s lawyer, that’s all. I don’t know Mary Ellen. I’ve never even met her. I need to do some business with her.”
“You’re not that guy?”
“I told you, I’ve never met her.”
He shook his head slowly back and forth. “Well, shit. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know where she is either?”
“Nope. Been calling. Ever since she stood me up. Figured, fuck it, so she found some younger guy. What beautiful young gal like her’d wanna marry an ugly old bastard like me anyway? But, damn. She suckered me good, tell you that. Assumed it was you, comin’ around to pick up some of her things. The guy at the desk said you was there earlier, might be comin’ around again. I wanted to get a look at you.” He cocked his head, looking at me. “Shoulda known when I seen you. Figured it hadda be somebody younger than you.”
“Marry you? She’s going to marry you?” I said.
“You think that’s funny?”
I shrugged.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’. Ugly old pug like me, rich lady like Mary Ellen, so beautiful and refined and all. Hey, I didn’t believe it myself. But, yeah, we’re plannin’ on it.” He took a deep breath. “I dunno. Guess maybe we’re not. Guess she run off with the other guy. Not you, huh?”
“No. Not me. What do you know about this other man?”
“Nothing. Diddlysquat. I know there’s some other guy. That’s all.”
“Guy with a ponytail and earring? Old hippie type?”
Dave Finn frowned. “Nah. I don’t think so. I know who that is. That’s some old buddy of hers. Fella name of Raiford. Sid Raiford. She usta work with him in some bookstore. No, this is some other guy. I don’t think her and Raiford are like that.”
“An Arab, maybe?” I said.
“Huh?”
“The other man. Is he an Arab?”
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t know who the fuck he is. I don’t think it’s Raiford, that’s all. I thought it was you. He could be an Arab or a Greek or a fuckin’ Russian for all I know. I mean, I oughta be able to figure it out, but I can’t. Fuckin’ detective, and I can’t even get a line on some guy my gal’s run off with.”
“You’re a detective?”
He snorted a quick ironic laugh through his L-shaped nose. “Not a
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