Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [16]
“It's not a done deal,” I said instead.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that it's not certain Skell will be released from prison. His lawyer will have to go in front of a judge and present the evidence.”
Her nails sunk deeper into my flesh.
“They're going to let him out, aren't they, Jack?” she said. “That's why you came here. They're going to let him out, and you wanted me to know so I could put extra locks on my apartment and buy a gun for when he comes tippy-toeing to my bedroom door.”
I lowered my head. She'd hit the nail on the head. It was exactly why I'd come.
“I'm sorry, Melinda,” I said.
She slapped my face. It stung, and I reflexively grabbed her arm before she could do it again. She let out a bloodcurdling scream.
A huge bouncer stepped into the lounge. He yanked me off the couch and hustled me through the club. I looked for Cheever at the bar, but he was gone.
As we went through the club's front door I expected the bouncer to stop, but he instead gave me a mighty shove. I flew forward with my arms flapping like a bird and hit the pavement hard.
“Stay out of here,” the bouncer yelled.
I lay on the pavement and watched the rain come down in sheets. The knees of my pants were shredded, my jacket torn. I tried to find the bright side, only there was no bright side. I walked stiff-legged to my car.
As I got in, Buster cowered fearfully against the passenger door. Then the rancid smell hit me. My dog had puked Slim Jims on the floor.
“It's okay, boy,” I told him. “It's okay.”
The words seemed to reassure him, and Buster slithered into my lap. He stayed there all the way back to the Sunset.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The storm skirted south of Dania, and I reached the Sunset in blinding sunshine. I washed the floor mat in the ocean and placed it on the hood to dry. A few hours of daylight were left, and I went inside to change.
In my room I tugged on my Speedo bathing trunks. I'd lost twenty pounds in the past six months and acquired a flat stomach and deep tan. Although my hair has thinned, my friends said I looked younger than my forty years. Maybe I had found the fountain of youth. It was called hitting the skids.
I rolled my wet clothes into a ball and headed downstairs. At the bar, one of the Seven Dwarfs, Whitey, was doing a magic trick with a book of burning matches. The comic effect was great, only he was enough of a menace to burn the place down. I extinguished the matches in a glass of water, and he howled in protest.
I tried to catch Sonny's eye. He wouldn't meet my gaze, and I guessed he was still ticked off about the punch-in-the-face crack. I said, “Heads up,” and tossed my clothes over the bar like a basketball. Sonny caught them with a puzzled look on his face.
“Throw those out for me, will you?” I said.
“Your suit?” Sonny asked.
“Yeah. I'm shedding my old skin. And while you're at it, give everybody a round of drinks, including yourself.”
The Dwarfs gleefully pounded the bar. Sonny tossed the clothes into the trash with a grin on his face. All was forgiven.
“You want the drinks on the big tab, or the little tab?” Sonny asked.
“The little tab. I'm trying to balance them out.”
“Little tab it is.”
I lowered my voice. “I need a favor. You might get some calls from people looking for me. Reporters, police, that sort of thing.
Tell them I haven't been around, okay?”
“You in trouble?” Sonny asked.
Normally, I would have lied to him, but with my ever-dwindling pool of resources, I needed all the friends I could get. I nodded. Reaching into a cooler, Sonny removed a sixteen-ounce can of Budweiser, my signature drink, and stuck it into the ice chest.
“Have a nice swim,” he said.
The day my wife walked out on me, I took a drive. I didn't know how I was going to cope with her being gone, and eventually I found myself parked on the northern tip of Dania Beach. Then, I'd done what any heartbroken male would do. I got naked and went for a swim. I don't know why I did this; it just seemed the right thing to do at the time. And when I stepped out of the water an hour later,