Breakdown by Sara Paretsky Read Free Book Online Page A

Of course, she mentioned you, because she knows you and I are pals, although a pal would have called me from the cemetery.
    “This morning, I had to listen to Lawlor’s broadly smeared innuendoes about what a great leg woman you were, and how great it was that you went out and created news for me. Of course, I pretended I knew all about it, and at least I’d had the heads-up from the 13th, but you listen to me and listen good, V. I. Warshawski: if you ever leave me looking that stupid again you will never ever get another line of print from me, even if you’ve uncovered proof that the president was born on the planet Krypton.”
    “Believe me, Murray, when you’re slogging through mud with a bunch of screaming tweens, the last thing on your mind is texting your friends. Although, of course, if I’d known you wanted to take over my babysitting gig I would have called you in a heartbeat.”
    Murray was too angry to be placated. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t just been with me. Lawlor’s an asshole, but Weekes is no dummy, and he put the twos together very fast.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said, inadequately.
    The truth was, I hadn’t wanted to give Murray a heads-up. I was worried about my cousin, and about the immigrant girls in her group. Given how much Lawlor and Weekes railed against illegals in the country, I wanted to protect Kira and her mother from GEN scrutiny. Time was when you could cover Murray with syrup and send him into a nest of fire ants and he wouldn’t talk. Now, given how desperate he was to make an impression on his boss, I wasn’t so sure.
    “Of course, you could start making it up to me,” Murray said.
    “Oh?”
    “Get me in to see Yarborough.”
    “Murray, Dick and I have been divorced for a good twenty years, and the parting wasn’t harmonious. It’s unlikely that I could get him to talk to me, let alone a reporter.” I sat on the edge of the bed and did a few leg lifts, flexing my toes to increase the stretch. “What on earth was Wuchnik doing for Crawford, Mead?”
    “He died without confiding in me. All I know is that he was on Yarborough’s payroll.”
    “Along with thirteen hundred other people. Dick probably didn’t know his name.” I put the phone on speaker and started loosening my shoulders. “I’m going back to the cemetery this afternoon. I’ll be glad to show you the tomb where Wuchnik died.”
    “We had a photographer out there first thing this morning. And a camera crew. By the way, Helen Kendrick had a really passionate segment on her Sunday Values show on how a woman who wants to deny Americans the right to read their Bibles raised a daughter to worship Satan in a graveyard.”
    I stopped my exercises. “Murray, I don’t know if it’s you or me, but this makes no sense. Are you trying to say that Helen Kendrick was attacking me? Does she think Petra is my daughter? An assumption that depresses me on every conceivable parameter, by the way.”
    “You really don’t know?”
    “Don’t know what?”
    “Nia Durango was one of the girls at the cemetery last night.” He sounded like a magician who’s surprised himself along with his audience by pulling a rabbit from his hat.
    “Nia Durango.” I repeated blankly. “The name is supposed to mean some—oh! She’s Sophy Durango’s kid?”
    “Give the lady the kewpie doll for firing the winning shot. Do you swear on Boom-Boom’s jersey that you really didn’t know Durango’s kid was with you last night?”
    “Murray, ten minutes ago I was blissfully asleep. I can’t handle all this—Wuchnik and Dick Yarborough, Sophy Durango’s daughter, Helen Kendrick’s shrieking, Satan, eliminating Bibles—too much without even a cup of coffee, let alone a trip to the bathroom. I’ll call you back.”
    I hung up. At least I was wide awake now, but I still found Murray’s call a lot to digest. What on earth was Sophy Durango thinking, to let her kid take part in an escapade like this? I guess