Peeper
Page 18
“Well, somebody has now. I don’t know when I’ll see you. They want to hang on to me here for another week, and then I don’t know what the cops will want. I thought I better say it how.”
“Okay.”
They hung up.
The telephone rang ten minutes later.
“Whoever you are, you’re dead,” Ralph said.
“Ralph, this is Neal.”
“Then you’re a dead Neal. I only got to bed at three. It’s five-fifteen!”
“Thanks. You seen the papers?”
“Yeah.” This time he didn’t ask which one.
“Funny, I didn’t see nothing in it about my cut.”
“I was going to call you about that.”
“And say what?”
Ralph blew a loud raspberry into the mouthpiece and pegged the receiver. Then he picked it up again and left it off the hook.
He must have replaced it in his sleep, however, because an hour later it rang again.
“AIDS Hotline,” he grumbled.
“Poteet?”
It was a woman’s voice.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
“This is Lucille Lovechild. Have you seen the papers?”
“All of ’em.”
“That was quite an investigation you pulled off. I suppose some kind of congratulations are in order.”
“Hurts, don’t it?” He raised himself again. This was almost worth getting stiffed by Carpenter; the reporter seemed to think that saving Ralph’s life wiped out the sixteen hundred dollars he owed Ralph. “I guess you called to offer me my old job back. Well, I should make you squirm, but I won’t. I need a raise, though, hunnert bucks a month. And an office with a window.”
“You do have a sense of humor, Neanderthal though it is. I can appreciate it now that you’re no longer working here.”
“No openings, huh.”
“As it happens there is one, although I’d sooner hire the Ayatollah. I fired Chuck Waverly this morning.”
“How come?”
“He came staggering in two hours late, howling drunk and screaming something about turtles. I couldn’t make any sense of it.”
“Victorian turtles?”
“Something like that. Does it mean anything to you?”
“Are you wearing that lace-necked blouse of yours today?”
She paused. “I am, as a matter of fact. Why?”
“Nothing. My mind wandered.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not big enough to cross the street alone.”
“Hey, I don’t need to get called stupid in my own place. I can go anywhere for that.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “The reason I called, when you left here you took the key to the file room with you. I want it back.”
“When your twat thaws out, Lucy.” He cut the connection with a bang.
He stayed awake for a while after that, staring at the instrument. When it rang next time, however, he had gone back to sleep sitting up.
“Hell-o,” he said musically.
“Mr. Poteet?”
Another woman.
“At your kind service.”
“This is Grace Capablanca. Vincenzo’s widow?”
“Whatever can I do for you, Mrs. C.?”
“I’m calling all the tenants to let them know I’m flying out next week to take over management of the building. I’ve decided to turn it into condominiums. You will have thirty days to come up with two hundred thousand dollars to buy your apartment or move out. Have a nice day.”
Ralph wished her the same and replaced the handset gently.
Some days it just didn’t pay to answer the telephone.
A Biography of Loren D. Estleman
Loren D. Estleman (b. 1952) is the award-winning author of over sixty-five novels, including mysteries and westerns.
Raised in a Michigan farmhouse constructed in 1867, Estleman submitted his first story for publication at the age of fifteen and accumulated 160 rejection letters over the next eight years. Once The Oklahoma Punk was published in 1976, success came quickly, allowing him to quit his day job in 1980 and become a fulltime writer.
Estleman’s most enduring character, Amos Walker, made his first appearance in 1980’s Motor City Blue, and the hardboiled Detroit private eye has been featured in twenty novels since. The fifth Amos Walker novel, Sugartown, won the Private Eye Writers of America’s Shamus Award for best hardcover novel of 1985. Estleman’s most recent Walker novel is Infernal Angels.
Estleman has also won praise for his adventure novels set in the Old West. In 1980, The High Rocks was nominated for a National Book Award, and since then Estleman has featured its hero, Deputy U.S. Marshal Page Murdock, in seven more novels, most recently 2010’s The Book of Murdock. Estleman has received awards for many of his standalone westerns, receiving recognition for both his attention to historical detail and the elements of suspense that follow from his background as a mystery author. Journey of the Dead, a story of the man who murdered Billy the Kid, won a Spur Award from the Western Writers of America, and a Western Heritage Award from the National Cowboy Hall of Fame.
In 1993 Estleman married Deborah Morgan, a fellow mystery author. He lives and works in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Loren D. Estleman in a Davy Crockett ensemble at age three aboard the Straits of Mackinac ferry with his brother, Charles, and father, Leauvett.
Estleman at age five in his kindergarten photograph. He grew up in Dexter, Michigan.
Estleman in his study in Whitmore Lake, Michigan, in the 1980s. The author wrote more than forty books on the manual typewriter he is working on in this image.
Estleman and his family. From left to right: older brother, Charles; mother, Louise; father, Leauvett; and Loren.
Estleman and Deborah Morgan at their wedding in Springdale, Arkansas, on June 19, 1993.
Estleman with actor Barry Corbin at the Western Heritage Awards in Oklahoma City in 1998. The author won Outstanding Western Novel for his book Journey of the Dead.
Loren signing books at Eyecon in St. Louis in 1999. He was the guest of honor.
Estleman and his fellow panelists at Bouchercon in 2000. From left to right: Harper Barnes, John Lutz, Loren D. Estleman, Max Allan Collins, and Stuart M. Kaminsky.
Estleman and his wife, Deborah, signing together while on a tour through Colorado in 2003.
Estleman with his grandson, Dylan Ray Brown, shown here writing an original story on “Papa’s” typewriter at Christmastime in 2005 in Springfield, Missouri.
Estleman with his granddaughter, Lydia Morgan Hopper, as he reads her a bedtime story on New Year’s Eve 2008. Books are among Lydia’s favorite things—and “Papa” is quick to encourage this.
Estleman and his wife, Deborah, with the late Elmer Kelton and his wife, Anne Kelton, in 2008. Estleman is holding his Elmer Kelton Award from the German Association for the Study of the Western.
Estleman in front of the Gas City water tower, which he passed by on many a road trip. After titling one of his novels after the town, Estleman was invited for a visit by the mayor, and in February 2008 he was presented the key to the city.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1989 by Loren D. Estleman
Cover design by Rebecca Lown
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3486-9
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
180 Maiden Lane
New York, NY, 10038
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