Murder by Installments

Episode 3

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Episode 3

I tried not to goggle at all the rich leather covers. I like books. I got my start with them in the hospital in France, with nothing else to do. I swallowed the whole post library in those months on my back. Too late to count as an education, but still, I like books.

The Brazelton mansion's library was the only thing I'd seen to tempt me about their life. I pulled my eyes from Thucydides and Xenophon to focus on Mrs B. She proved an older lady, but still trim. Silvered hair rolled into a bun, enough sparkly stuff on her fingers and ears to be worth a mint. The crystal glass in her hand and decanter on the table showed her disdain for the Volstead Act. Nothing unusual in that. Philly was one of the wettest cities in this "dry," country.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Lightning flickered in her pale eyes. You always hear about rich people and their fancy manners, but they didn't seem to use them on guys like me.

"I'm Matt Slade, ma'am. Your husband hired me to—"

"'Look into a few things,' yes. So your very vague message said. What things, Mr. Slade?" Message? I didn't send a message. But maybe that walk was longer than it needed to be?

"Ma'am, to be honest, he thinks someone is trying to kill him." See what reaction that got. "I want to know if anyone has a… you know, a grudge, or a grievance."

"So. You talked to that Woodridge minx, and she sent you to me?" Her voice would've frozen the drink in her glass, had it been a little lower proof. No shock, no flutters, no denial. Just the same cold, disdain and anger.

"She did say you might have grounds…"

"Walters!" she did that raise the voice without quite yelling trick, and a big blonde joker in a soup and fish popped in from somewhere.

"Walters, show this… person the door."

"Time to go," the big mug said.

"Mrs B, you know that don't look good. Tossing me out for a simple question. How do you—"

"I said, 'time to go,' bub." A big meaty hand landed on my shoulder.

"I'll go when I'm ready." I shrugged it off, but he grabbed me harder, and spun me around to face him. I'd had just about enough of these people. Their fancy house, their stuck up airs. Now this old broad thought her fancy dan was gonna run me off?

Well, I reared back with my right and socked him in the ribs. Punching a mook in the face, like in the pictures is for chumps. Jawbones are hard, you'll break your hand. Nah, get 'em where they live; hit 'em in the belly, or the ribs.

I shoulda swung for the belly. Fancy Dan had a rod on a shoulder harness under those fancy duds.

To be continued…

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