The Dead Caller from Chicago (36 page)

“It's even uglier than you described,” Jenny said. She stepped close and moved the ribbon to see the artist's signature. Then she laughed loudly. Of course, that might have been the Scotch.

My cell phone rang.

“You're nearby, are you?” I asked. “Watching me?”

“Having a giggle in a bar on Thompson Avenue, imagining your consternation,” Leo said.

“I am indeed consterned,” I said, not caring that it wasn't a word. “I don't want it here, even for the night.”

“Nobody knows you've got it, except me, and I don't want it either,” he said. I could hear Endora laughing in his background.

“I'm not babysitting it.”

“I went into the city today. A friend I know has equipment that sees through paint. He confirmed that it's the perfect gift for the next chapter in your life.”

“What next chapter?”

“Are you alone?”

“I'm with the press.”

“I rest my case. Swear her to secrecy.”

I motioned Jenny to lean close as I switched on the cell's speaker.

“There's one little detail I neglected to mention,” he said. “You'll recall, our man Snark painted over the Daisy?”

Jenny's perfume was light, lilac scented, perhaps.

“Of course,” I managed. She and I were breathing in perfect unison.

“Old Snark used the heavy-duty oil-based stuff that we had lying around the garage. The city used it for pavement, park benches, light poles, and signage before the state outlawed it as being too toxic.”

“Toxic, you say?” I said, between our breaths.

“That old paint will eat through all sorts of things, though, strangely, not canvas.”

“The Velvet Brueghel was dissolved?”

“It's no longer the Velvet Brueghel; truly it's now…”

“The Velvet Brumsky,” I said, but by then, it was to myself. I'd clicked Leo away.

Jenny left my side to pick up an armload of wood. At the base of the stairs going up, she turned to arch an eyebrow. She had but to mouth the word.

“Confluence.”

 

ALSO BY JACK FREDRICKSON

Hunting Sweetie Rose

Honestly, Dearest, You're Dead

A Safe Place for Dying

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JACK FREDRICKSON is the author of
Honestly Dearest, You're Dead,
a Nancy Pearl Pick, as well as
A Safe Place for Dying,
which was nominated for the Shamus Award, and
Hunting Sweetie Rose
. His short fiction has appeared in the acclaimed
Chicago Blues
, Michael Connelly's
The Blue Religion,
and Charlaine Harris's
Crimes by Moonlight
. He lives with his wife, Susan, west of Chicago, where he is president of the Friends of the Hinsdale Library and writes a newspaper column.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin's Publishing Group.

THE DEAD CALLER FROM CHICAGO.
Copyright © 2013 by Jack Fredrickson. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

ISBN 978-0-312-60527-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-250-02098-7 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781250020987

First Edition: April 2013