A Killer's Kiss by William Lashner Read Free Book Online Page A

surprised to find that Sims had honored his word and kept me out of it. Maybe he was more trustworthy than I supposed?
    Nah.
    I closed the tabloid, tapped the cover. “Nice house.”
    “Did you have anything to do with it?” said McDeiss.
    “No.”
    “You sure?”
    “Stop it. Of course I didn’t.”
    “That’s what I thought. Guns aren’t your style.”
    “Still, you sent Sims and Hanratty over to my place in the middle of the night.”
    “I remembered your connection to the dead man’s wife. I brought it up to the captain, tried to use it to get assigned the case.”
    “Really? To protect me?”
    “To ensure justice and promote domestic tranquillity.”
    “You wanted to nail me personally, huh?”
    “Like a toothache. But the captain didn’t let me anywhere near the case and gave it to Sims.”
    “Just my luck. What can you tell me about him? Nice guy?”
    “Watch yourself.”
    “Why?”
    “Just be careful.”
    “I’m more concerned about Hanratty.”
    “Hanratty’s okay.”
    “He thinks I’m somehow involved.”
    “Of course he does. Any cop worth his salt would. But he’ll find out what really happened one way or the other. That’s all he cares about. With Sims you never know. He plays to his own agenda. Sims is more politician than cop.”
    “And we all know how well politics mixes with truth.”
    “Hey, did you really not have sex with her?”
    “Word gets around, I guess.”
    “We all got a laugh out of it. And it’s too bad, since she’s quite nice-looking for a killer.”
    “You sure she killed him?”
    “Sims seems to be sure. You still have feelings for her?”
    “We have a past,” I said.
    “I understand. But the reason I came over is to give you some friendly advice. Sims is a bulldog. He’ll sniff here, sniff there, take his time in figuring out who he wants to charge with the murder, but once he’s got his teeth into your leg, he’s impossible to shake off. And funny thing about his cases, when they start getting shaky, evidence starts popping up as if from nowhere.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “So here is my advice. Don’t let your unresolved feelings from the past betray you into doing something stupid. Stay the hell away from this case, Victor, at least until Sims decides who to charge. Right now he’s focusing on the wife. But if he starts focusing on you, then, boy, you might think you know what trouble is, but you’ll find out you were underestimating it all along.”

7
    Generally I am disinclined to follow the advice of those in authority. I think it comes from the difficult relationship I have with my father. Either that or I am simply a dope. When I am told, repeatedly, to stay the hell out of a thorny situation, I find myself somehow compelled to get involved.
    But not here, not now.
    Both Sims and McDeiss had advised me to stay away from the Wren Denniston murder case, and I was fully disposed to follow their advice. It wasn’t because they had badges—I don’t heed no stinking badges—it was because something inside me was screaming the exact same thing. The suspicion that had gripped me as soon as two hard homicide dicks trooped into my apartment and gave me the third degree had only grown thicker as I learned the details of the crime. Reclaimed love had turned to outright paranoia in the flash of a gunshot.
    So I would not be visiting, not be investigating, not be aidingin her defense. Despite our promises one to the other to maintain silence, I had already told the police everything I knew. And now, going forward, I would not be a valued support in Julia Denniston’s time of utter need as Sims worked like a bulldog to build a case against her. She had betrayed me in the past; I was going to abandon her in the present. It seemed a fair enough trade to me. But she had a right to know.
    I could visit her in the prison, tell her the way I was feeling, advise her that she was on her own, but that would require an actual modicum of bravery and class.