Lucky Bones (Sam Kelson Book 2) by Michael Wiley
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.4 MB
A case of stolen shoes leads maverick Chicago PI Sam Kelson into something far darker and deeper in the second of this hardhitting crime noir series. “My boyfriend’s been stealing my Jimmy Choos.” Genevieve Bower has hired private investigator Sam Kelson to recover her stolen shoes from her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. The problem is that no one’s seen Genevieve’s boyfriend for the past two weeks. Events take a disturbing twist when, in his search for the shoes, Kelson comes across a body, shot in the head. A clear-cut case of suicide – or is it? Has Kelson’s client been wholly honest with him? What is this case really about? At the same time, an explosion rips through one of the city’s public libraries, leaving a friend’s nephew critically injured. Could there be a connection? If there is, Kelson’s determined to find it. But Kelson’s not like other investigators. Taking a bullet in the brain during his former career as a Chicago cop, he suffers from disinhibition: he cannot keep silent or tell lies when questioned – and his involuntary outspokenness is about to lead him into dangerous waters . . .
The blast had shredded the left side of his body. It had punctured his left eye. It had pocked his head and body with metal and molten plastic.
‘Very critical,’ said the doctors at the University of Chicago Trauma Center. ‘If he wakes up … we don’t know if he’ll wake up – we don’t know what will remain of him if he does – what function, what cognitive …’
Two others died. ‘Neto’s one of the lucky ones,’ said a nurse, and Rodman had to hold Marty to keep him from punching her.
The dead – a homeless man working at the computer two seats down from Neto, and a young mother at the computer between Neto and the homeless man. A baby girl in a stroller between the woman and Neto survived with only abrasions. ‘A miracle,’ the same nurse said. The mother’s body shielded her girl from the blast. It partly shielded Neto too.
Including the woman’s baby, ambulances carried six people to hospitals around the city, the most critically injured to the Trauma Center. Now, Marty LeCoeur, Rodman, and Kelson had one of the internal waiting rooms to themselves. The lights were soft, the paint the golden color of an autumn sunset, the chairs upholstered in earth tones. The room seemed to whisper Peace, Patience, Forbearance. When the doctor left, Marty stared at the walls as if they were closing in on him and said, ‘Fucking makes me sick.’
Then he called his brother, Neto’s father. He started gentle but in a minute was yelling into the phone, ‘You get the fuck down here now,’ and in the hush of the room the voice of Neto’s father – who’d kicked Neto out around the time of the Banco Santander Río trouble – came through the earpiece – ‘The hell if I will.’ Marty swore at the man, the man swore back, and when Marty hung up, he had tears in his eyes. He stared at Rodman and Kelson and said, ‘I’m his only family. We are.’
‘I don’t even like the kid,’ Kelson said.
Marty glared at him.
‘Sorry. Anything you need. Anything I can do.’
‘Yeah,’ Marty said, and he wiped his glazed eyes with the back of his hand. ‘You can find out what the fuck happened.’
After a while, Marty’s girlfriend Janet came. They went to a corner and mumbled, and she put a big paw on his little shoulder, but when they came back to Rodman and Kelson, she sat apart as if afraid she would break him if she got close. They all were quiet except when Kelson’s thoughts leaked out of his mouth.