Death in North Beach by Ronald Tierney Read Free Book Online Page B

myself,’ he said.
    Lang ordered a beer for himself and water for his witness.
    â€˜All right,’ Lang said, after the drinks arrived, ‘what did Warfield have on you?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Sumaoang said. ‘I truly don’t know. I came down here because you said Warfield was writing or had written a tell-all book and that I was supposed to be in it. I was hoping you’d tell me.’
    â€˜What have you got to hide?’ Lang said.
    â€˜If I had something to hide, would I be telling you? Maybe you’re the one writing the book.’
    â€˜Maybe a couple more bottles of water,’ Lang said, ‘and you’ll become a little more compliant.’
    â€˜I’ve got to move on,’ Sumaoang said. He slid off the stool, extended his hand.
    Lang shook it.
    â€˜Tell me,’ Lang said, ‘all those people who walked by here. Where did they go?’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    â€˜Hey. Twenty people came in here while we were talking. They walked right by us. And they didn’t come back.’
    â€˜Maybe out the rear door,’ Sumaoang said.
    â€˜No, they just came and you’re telling me they were just passing through?’
    â€˜It’s private . . . for regulars.’ Sumaoang looked around and turned back, saying softly, ‘I’ll leave it at that.’ He nodded and went the way of the others. He stopped, came back halfway. He pointed his finger at Lang.
    â€˜Confidences should be honored,’ he said with an edge of anger in his voice.
    â€˜Did you tell me any secrets?’
    â€˜No,’ Sumaoang said.
    â€˜Then why are you telling me this?’
    â€˜Maybe you’ll find out.’
    Was that a threat or was he merely saying that this was what Lang should consider in his investigation?
    It wasn’t a bad night, Lang thought. Except for two things. The bartender was tight-lipped and a big guy kept Lang from going to the back room.
    The poet/artist did fill in a few holes, but left a few unfilled. What did Warfield have on Sumaoang? Why was Sumaoang so willing to talk? The answer to the last question was that maybe he wanted to know what Lang knew? No slouch, he. Maybe Lang gave away more than he got. And maybe most of these folks would want the missing tell-all book, if there was one, to stay missing, wouldn’t they? Lang laughed out loud in the increasingly cold and windy night. Maybe his bright idea was only so bright. He’d have to put the fear of a murder charge back into the conversation.
    Now about Sumaoang. He was fit, lean and vital. He’d have no trouble handling an ageing chub like Warfield. Sumaoang would stay on the list.
    Lang walked and tried to relax. But there was a little anger. He could feel it in his neck. What really bugged him was the back room at Alighieri’s. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were merely locked. Unfortunately, someone committed the ultimate sin. They told him he couldn’t go in. Now he had to.
    Intense light came through the slats of the blinds and burrowed through her eyelids. She awoke somewhat startled at the sun’s strength and the fact that it was a new day. She remembered climbing into bed last night and waking up as if time had not really passed. She got out of bed and was enveloped in the warmth of the room – a rare experience on a chilly San Francisco morning. It was nine a.m. Very late for her. But it would be fine. The art galleries didn’t open until later in the morning. She still had time for a morning run.
    She walked naked into the kitchen, put on some coffee, and then to the bathroom where she started the shower. As the water in the shower came up to temperature, she laid out her running clothes – the lighter Northface gear considering the day.
    The shower felt good. Having a case felt good. She thought about calling the office, but that wasn’t how it worked anymore. There were no