Read Online Walking Shadow by Robert B. Parker - Free Book Online

swept Jocelyn off her chair and onto the floor. I dove on top of her and Hawk hit the floor beside us, the big.44 Magnum gleaming in his hand. Above our heads the plate glass window shattered and the bubbling chatter of an automatic weapon came with it. Glass fell on us. Jocelyn was screaming. Then there was stillness. I realized my gun was out too. I looked around the restaurant. It was as if the film had stopped. The kid reading his Want Advertiser, the old woman at the grill, the two geezers at the counter, were all frozen in silence and slow time. None of them seemed to be hurt. Hawk was up. He never seemed to get up or down; it was as if he just reincarnated in one position or the other.
    I started to get up and found that Jocelyn was clinging to me in an embrace that seemed as much passion as fear.
    "Stay down on the floor," I said and shrugged loose from her and stood and looked carefully out the window. The street was empty. The rain was blowing in through the space where the window had been.
    "Uzi," I said.
    "Un huh. Maroon Buick station wagon, maybe 1990, '91.
    Coming slow, window down on the passenger side. Why somebody driving in the rain with the window down? Then he stuck the gun barrel out."
    "Too soon," I said.
    Hawk nodded.
    "Shoulda come down the street at a normal speed, windows up," he said.
    "Shooter shoulda been in back. They should have pulled into the curb like they were parking. Driver shoulda hit the rear-window button and the shooter shoulda opened up as it went down. We be dead now."
    "Well, maybe they're young, and from another country," I said.
    "Was that a machine gun?" the kid behind the counter said.
    "Assault rifle," one of the geezers said.
    "I'll bet it was one of them damned assault rifles."
    The old woman had gone in the back room without a word. I put my gun away and reached down a hand to Jocelyn Colby. She took it and stood up, and kept hold of my hand. The old woman came out of the back room.
    "Police coming," she said.
    "
    "Course they really going to do it right," Hawk said.
    "Shoulda walked in and opened up."
    He put the Magnum away under his coat. He looked out at the empty street and shook his head.
    "Drive-bys are sloppy," he said.
    The old woman had a push broom and was carefully sweeping the broken glass into a pile in the middle of the room. She moved implacably and slow, as if movement had always hurt her and she had always moved anyway. Jocelyn continued to cling to my hand, standing very close to me.
    "Were they trying to kill me?" Jocelyn said.
    Hawk grinned without comment.
    "Maybe not," I said.
    "Maybe they were trying to kill me."

CHAPTER 15
    A close-up company was power-screwing plywood panels over the shattered window. The crime scene people were through digging slugs out of the woodwork and had departed. Everyone else had made a statement and gone home, except the old lady who was in the back room making phone calls. DeSpain sat on one of the stools, his elbows resting on the counter behind him.
    "So what were you two guys doing up here?"
    "Drinking coffee," I said.
    "Eating donuts."
    "Just like real coppers," DeSpain said.
    "You still working on the murder?"
    "Yeah."
    "What's Hawk doing here?"
    "Helping," Hawk said.
    "Helping what?"
    "Helping the investigation."
    "Hawk." DeSpain looked tired.
    "You don't fucking investigate."
    Hawk smiled.
    "What you talking to the broad about?" DeSpain said.
    "The murder. I'm trying to talk with everybody about the murder."
    "Counter kid says she came in after you."
    "Sure," I said.
    "She knew I wanted to talk with her, saw us here, came in."
    DeSpain nodded.
    "And Hawk was here in case she got outta hand. Who you figure fired thirty rounds or so through the window at you?"
    "What makes it us?" I said.
    "Who else was sitting in the window. You hadn't hit the deck, you'd have been dead."
    "And nobody else with a scratch," I said.
    DeSpain grinned.
    "And they didn't hit the deck," he said.
    "Sort of suggestive?" I said.
    "So,"