All Chickens Must Die: A Benjamin Wade Mystery by Scott Dennis Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

have to answer. And I’d like to have you both
leave now.”
    “But we’re not finished,” Gardner said. “There’s still too much
left to ask.”
    I grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward the door. There was
clearly nothing more to learn from her. She was either covering for someone or,
in the more unlikely case, she truly didn’t know.

Chapter Nine
     
    We took most of the rest of the day to
talk with all the rich folks on the one side of the West 18th Street extension.
As expected, not all of Aldridge’s neighbors were home the night of the
burglary. Those who remembered it got vague when pressed for details. The long
and short of it was that we got nothing consequential in the way of leads.
    The only thing close to forward movement in this case came when
Gardner and I paid a visit to the farmers on the other side of the Smith farm.
Over glasses of just about the best lemonade I had ever tasted, Otis and Aileen
Johnson told us about the police chasing some dark figure near their land. When
Otis went to fetch his shotgun, the family heard the footsteps cross their land
and out to FM 476. A few seconds later, the sound of a car engine filled the
silence and the car raced away.
    Satisfied with the confirmation that someone was definitely
fleeing the police but coming up short on every other front, Gardner and I
drove back to town. We talked about the war in Europe, the likelihood that the
U.S. would get in it, and the other news, much of which pretty much dealt with
the war. When sovereign nations are fighting each other and their colonies
around the world are being threatened and taking up arms, that kind of thing
tends to dominate all discussion.
    I dropped Gardner off in front of the news building and sat in
the car a few moments. I wasn’t getting anywhere with the Smith case and the
clock was ticking. Something had to break, and fast.
    Remembering the punch I had taken from Peete that day at lunch, I
touched my sore jaw. The two things had to have a connection, right? Clara’s
suddenly getting a new man in her life and this chicken-slaughter order.
    Throwing the car in gear, I circled the block for an open meter.
I fed a dime into the machine and walked half a block to a pay phone. After a
nickel found a new home, the HPD dispatcher answered the call.
    “Leroy Dwight, please.”
    The dispatcher relayed the call. A few moments later, my old
police pal answered the phone.
    “Leroy, it’s Wade.”
    “Wade, you old son of a gun. What the hell you doing calling me?
I heard about your little visit today.”
    “Yeah. Well, I needed to verify something and Burman did exactly
that. You still staying out of trouble?”
    “Sure am, a fact you’d know if you actually gave a damn during
times when you didn’t want something. That’s why you’re calling, isn’t it? You
want something.”
    The bitterness in his voice was palpable. During the times when
the internal investigation was ongoing and my time as a Houston police officer
was coming to an end, Leroy Dwight was one of the few friends who stuck with
me. He deflected all the crap that got thrown his way, letting it roll off his
shoulders. He defended me to anyone who’d listen. It didn’t matter that I had
to resign, he still believed in me.
    And I continually abused that relationship from time to time. He
was still on the force, moving up to the detective ranks. He was good, too.
Bulldog-like. But we found ourselves on opposite sides of the equation more
often than not. The only thing that helped was when I got him out of a jam.
With me being a PI, I was able to do things and go places he couldn’t. I helped
him and he felt he owed me. I didn’t disabuse him of that notion, but I got to
thinking that my welcome was wearing thin.
    “Look, Leroy, I know you stuck with me back then, but I figured
you’d best be served by not being seen with me.”
    “I can do my own living, Wade. That includes the people with whom
I choose to spend time.” He was