"Anthony H Stewart - The Loser" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stewart Anthony H)

Freddy shook his head.

"No can do. Ain't got it, anyway."

"At least let me have a car. Any old wreck will do. I gotta get out of town."

"Sorry."

"I won't tell a soul. Please. We used to be friends once."

"Were we? I thought it was pretty much one-sided myself."

Jimmy felt his body grow cold. He leaned on the desk, his face inches from Freddy's.

"Get the shit out," Freddy said, his voice low and threatening. "Now."

Back out on the street, it had started to rain. What next? Hail? He ran up another alley. All he had in his pocket was the twenty from the cops, a few dollars and pocket change. He hopped a bus again, at least to get out of the rain. His coat jacket was soaked, and he sneezed. Probably catching cold, he thought. He tried Billy Hammond, his cousin. No juice. Couldn't even depend on relatives. He thought of Judy, but dismissed the thought. His ex-wife would call the cops if he even knocked on her front door. After their last fight she had an injunction issued against him.

Maybe Carol. She worked at Ribbons and Lace, a topless club south of the river. A bus couldn't get there, though. He thought of calling for a cab, but the trip would cost him half his money. He started walking. The rain had stopped, but it was getting dark-thirty and he jumped at every shadow. He avoided the streetlights, and cringed every time a car passed. By the time he reached the club his feet were sore and he was exhausted.

The place was noisy and crowded, and he picked a booth as close to the back door as possible. Carol was on stage for her performance, tonight swirling around a stainless-steel pole completely naked. At least she looked naked. Could have been a sheer body suit. He ordered a whisky. He couldn't afford it but he needed it. His whole body was tight as a knotted rope. He waved to her, but she didn't seem to notice. He waited until she had finished and caught her as she was going to her dressing room.

"I figured you'd show up," she said, but she didn't look happy. "I heard the news on the radio."

Jimmy tried out a smile.

"I just need to talk for a minute."

"Sure. How much you need to get out of town?"

"Now Carol, you know --" "Cut the crap. Come on back. There's no one there right now."

Jimmy relaxed. Maybe here was help, finally. When they were alone, she turned to face him.

"Why you came here, I don't know," she said, lighting a cigarette with a disposable lighter. "See this?" she said, holding the lighter in front of her. She tossed it in a trashcan. "That's what my life's worth if I give you any help."

"Carol. Sugar. I'm a dead man if you don't help."

She shook her head. "Go to hell, Jimmy."

"You've got to!"

She pulled a gun from her purse.

"Out. Get out now. You can leave from the back door."

Color drained from his face. He grabbed the gun. She fought back but he was too strong. They struggled a minute, and she scratched his face. He grabbed the gun, but as they struggled, the gun went off. Carol collapsed, a bloody hole in her shoulder. Mike, the club bouncer, appeared at the doorway.

"What the shit? You killed her!"