Too Late to Die
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Everyone knew her. A lot of them like her. One of them killed her. Jeanne Clinton was a pretty and well-liked woman—though in her younger days she'd been known to be a bit wild. But she married an older man and settled down to a quiet, respectable life. Now she is dead, brutally murdered in her home.
when prisoners weren’t too well thought of, and it had gotten considerably less comfortable over the years. It looked like a fortress from the dark ages, except that its exterior was brown sandstone, and instead of a moat it was surrounded by a stubby wrought-iron fence. The fence wouldn’t keep anybody in or out, but no one on the outside wanted in, and those on the inside were kept in place by other barriers, like the heavily barred windows of the cells. The cells weren’t air-conditioned, and
very rapidly. His ribs hurt, and his leg was scratched from the barbed wire. His pants leg flapped where it had been ripped. The footing was soft and uncertain, the ground covering as likely to give way underfoot as not. Rhodes didn’t want to fall again. A few hundred yards into the woods, Rhodes paused to listen. If Johnny was blundering along, Rhodes could hear nothing to indicate the fact. He heard a few birds twitter, and there was a woodpecker hammering somewhere not too far off, but that
Nameless looked at me through slitted eyes as I came in, then ducked his head around and tried to shape himself into a ball. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m not going to roust you.” I threw the towels and sweatshirt I was carrying into the corner by the chiffonnier and then stripped off what I was wearing and added it to the pile. There was an old Maytag washer on the first floor that still worked pretty well. I’d take a load down later. I went into the bathroom and took a shower, first hot,
want to talk to you there, though.” Ray came back into the room. I didn’t hear him coming, but there he was. “She’ll talk to him,” he said. “But she’s not too thrilled about it.” “That’s just because she hasn’t seen me yet,” I said. Dino smiled faintly. “I forgot what a high opinion you had of your looks. But somehow I don’t think you’ll impress this one.” “We’ll see. When and where?” “Her house,” Ray said. “After she gets off work. I’ll write down the address.” This time he was back
I want your best shot. What do you usually charge? Two hundred a day and expenses? Tell me if that’s not enough.” “Well,” I said, “it beats painting houses.” He reached into the pocket of his wool-blend slacks and pulled out a sheaf of bills folded in half. He counted out ten of them. “Here’s for five days, not counting the expenses. You can keep a record or not. I’ll trust you on them.” I took the money. It had been a long time since I’d held that much. “What if I don’t find her? I looked for