American Detective: An Amos Walker Novel by Loren D. Estleman Read Free Book Online Page B

distance, is it?”
    “Yeah, you tricked it out of me. Narrows it down to the cops and the crooks and the people who can’t afford to live outside this exchange.”
    “You live in it.”
    “Work it out. I’m not a cop and I don’t have a record.”
    “Just a fistful of charges for withholding and obstruction. You’ve been behind bars so many times you’ve got grill marks on your ass.”
    “Can I quote you in my Yellow Pages ad?”
    We went back into the kitchen. Officer Ransom’s long bony face was flushed; he’d made a discovery. “Check out the calendar on the fridge, Inspector. This guy Bairn thinks it’s September.”
    July and August were missing, including Bairn’s scribbled appointment with Charlotte Sing, if that’s what it was. Alderdyce looked. “Could be nothing,” he said. “But good work, Officer.”
    The Mexican cleared his throat, almost too softly to hear.
    “It was Ordoñez pointed it out,” Ransom added, nearly as softly.
    Alderdyce turned to the partner. “Why two pages, Officer?”
    “In case somebody wrote something in July hard enough to make an indentation in August. Somebody’s been watching Charlie Chan.” The Mexican’s smile withered short of full bloom.
    “Well, like I said, it could be a dry hole.” But Alderdyce sounded impressed. He looked at me. “I don’t guess you noticed.”
    I shrugged and shook my head. This brought me into eye contact with Ordoñez. His were intelligent, mahogany-colored, and just as hard. He’d seen me looking at the calendar, all right; seeking it out. I’d led him right to it.
    “Pick up your shit,” Alderdyce told me. “Call that client you don’t have. I don’t hear from you by the end of the shift, you start the next in Holding.”
    Ransom said, “Sir, I know he’s your friend—”
    “Stand down, Officer,” snapped Burrough.
    Alderdyce addressed Ransom as if the detective hadn’t interrupted. “He’s a fucking hemorrhoid is what he is. But he’s closed more police cases than you read in training. You learn to be half the cop he is, I’ll put you in for plainclothes. You start to mouth off like him, I’ll bust you down to khaki. Do like your partner, keep your trap shut and listen.”
    “Yessir.” And an enemy was born.
    I started scooping stuff back into my pockets. Alderdyce snatched up the envelope as I was reaching for it. “We’ll hang on to this for now. You’ve got enough for gas.”
    “When do I get it back?”
    “End of the shift.” He smiled.
    “How about a receipt?”
    He looked at Burrough, who scribbled in his pad. When he hesitated before signing it, Alderdyce took the pad andmechanical pencil, scratched his name, tore out the sheet, and stuck it at me. I still have it:
    Received from A. Walker: $50,000 cash.
    I’m thinking of getting it framed.
    Waiting for the attendant to pry my car out from behind a monster truck, I leaned against the plywood booth, the only shade in the lot, and tapped out a number on my cell. The signal went to a tower in the suburbs and from there to the ear of Darius Fuller, telling him he wasn’t a father anymore. I listened to him gasping for breath, then mouthed the worthless words of sympathy and said the police would be in touch soon with details.
    “What about you?” He sounded older than sixty now, dragging his glove back to the bullpen, beaten by the side.
    “They want to know who I’m working for. If they see me with you, they’ll know.”
    “It don’t much matter now, does it?”
    “I’d like to poke around a little. They’ve got Hilary Bairn all wrapped up for it, and maybe they’re right. She was mad enough the last time I saw her to start a fight. But the cops don’t know the whole story and it’s not mine to tell.”
    “Why do you care? The job ended when—Oh, God.” It broke then. You never know when it will or how bad. I took the telephone away from my ear until it subsided.
    When it did I said, “There’s something else. If they find out