The Little Death Read Free

whole effect made Louis think of a giant Kewpie doll.
    “You’ve saved my life,” Reggie Kent said.
    “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mel said.
    “Yes, yes, of course.” Reggie ran a hand over his brow. The bar was frigid, but Louis could see a sheen of sweat on the man’s face.
    “This is Louis Kincaid, the guy I told you about,” Mel said, nodding.
    Reggie focused on Louis. “You’re the private investigator.”
    His voice had dropped to a whisper, and his blue eyeshoned in on Louis with intense curiosity before darting away. “You need a drink. How rude of me. Yuba!”
    The bartender appeared, a tall woman with long, sleek black hair and almond-colored skin, wearing a white shirt and a black vest.
    “You need a refill?” she said in a softly accented voice.
    “Yes, another Rodnik gimlet. And whatever my friends are having. Just put it on my tab.”
    The woman hesitated.
    “What?” Reggie asked.
    “Don says I can’t run a tab for you anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, Reggie.”
    Even in the dim light, Louis could see the red creep into Reggie’s face. Louis pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty onto the bar. “Bring us two Heinekens and the gimlet,” he said.
    The bartender nodded and left.
    Reggie was staring at something beyond Louis’s shoulder. Louis turned and saw two women looking at Reggie and whispering.
    The bartender brought the drinks and eyed the twenty. “That’s fifty-six dollars, sir.”
    “What?” Louis said.
    Mel laughed.
    Louis dug out two more twenties. “Keep the change.”
    The woman took the bills and left.
    “Nice tip,” Mel said.
    “It’s all I had,” Louis said.
    Mel took a drink of beer. “All right, Reggie, why don’t you tell us exactly what is going on?”
    Reggie was still staring at the two women, and whenhis eyes came back to Mel, they were moist. “Let’s move to a table,” he said.
    They picked up their drinks and followed Reggie from the bar. He paused at the latticed entrance to the dining room, then veered right into an alcove. When they were seated, Reggie took a thin blue pack of Gauloises from his jacket and lit a cigarette. He nodded toward the other room.
    “That used to be my table, that one by the fireplace,” he said. “They’re trying to slowly kill me. Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?”
    Mel looked at Louis. “Who’s ‘they’?”
    “Everyone,” Reggie said. “This whole town.”
    “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Mel said.
    Reggie took a big drink of the gimlet. “Well, it’s like I told you on the phone. Four days ago, they found Mark’s body out in the fields, and then they just showed up at my door and told me I had to come into the police station to answer some questions.” He paused, shutting his eyes. “I had to go to that place and identify him. He… had no head. But he had this birthmark on his chest and—”
    Mel interrupted him. “This Mark guy was a friend of yours?”
    Reggie managed a nod.
    “A good friend?” Mel asked.
    Reggie picked up his glass and drained it. “Not really. I only knew him for a year, I guess.”
    “So why were the police so interested in talking to you?” Louis asked.
    Reggie took a moment to meet Louis’s eyes. “We were kind of in business together.”
    “What kind of business?”
    Reggie looked to Mel.
    “You have to tell to us, Reggie,” Mel said.
    Reggie blew out a long stream of cigarette smoke. “I’m a walker.”
    “What, like a dog walker?” Louis asked.
    “Dog? Oh, good Lord, no,” Reggie said. “A walker is… well, an escort of sorts.” Reggie saw the look on Louis’s face and held up a hand. “Not what you are thinking, I assure you. It’s rather hard to explain.”
    Louis and Mel exchanged looks.
    “Suppose you try,” Mel said. “You know, like we’re in fifth grade?”
    Reggie looked to the dining room. “See that woman sitting by the fireplace? That blonde in the chartreuse Chanel suit?”
    Louis and Mel