Death in Twilight by Jason Fields Read Free Book Online

I’m told you’re going to offer me every assistance. That’s why you’re here, yes?”
    “Fuck you.”
    “Maybe later, but I need some information first,” Aaron said.
    “Fuck you, I said. And who the hell are you anyway?” Shemtov asked.
    “That’s more like it. Better to be introduced before you fuck someone, don’t you think?” Aaron smiled.
    Blustery men like Shemtov amused him. Blustery and tough were rarely synonymous, he’d found.
    First, a lifting of the eyebrows, then, unexpectedly, Shemtov guffawed.
    “No, you’re right,” he said. “An introduction makes it so much more romantic.” He put out a hand. “Leon Shemtov. You must be the alleged expert I heard rumors about.”
    Aaron was just as happy not to have a fight, not least because his hangover hadn’t entirely left him. He took the large hand he’d been offered and shook.
    “Well, if spending a few years with the Zendarmerie makes you an expert in this kind of thing, I guess that’s what I am,” he said. “Aaron Kaminski.”
    “Never heard of you.” Shemtov said, but without malice. “Have a seat.”
    He pointed to a stool next to him.
    Aaron sat down and took a first taste of the tea. His face nearly exploded with disgust, making Shemtov laugh again, harder this time.
    “We serve only the finest poisons,” Shemtov said.
    Aaron had to agree with Shemtov’s assessment. A fine and bitter poison indeed. The best the darkly amber liquid could do was crush the memory of what tea tasted like.
    Aaron shunted the glass aside hoping that his stomach would be able to do the same with the drink.
    “Well, I didn’t come here for the tea,” Aaron said.
    “That’s good,” Shemtov said.
    “Tell me what you saw when you found Berson.”
    Shemtov paused, brought together the scene in his mind and slowly began to speak.
    “A body lying in the street,” Shemtov said. “Leopold Street. He was sprawled on his back. His face was easy to see and not so damaged that you couldn’t identify him immediately, if you knew him.
    “Blood and brains had splattered out and to the right of his body. His hat was lying off to his right side, a meter or so away. The blood was frozen when we got there, so I suppose it had been a little while since he was killed. Since all the pieces of the skull and all that blood were right there, I’d guess he was killed in the street.”
    It all matched with what little Aaron remembered.”
    “And I’m the expert?” Aaron said lightly. “You sound as if you’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. Were you in the police before the war and no one told me?”
    “No, but I read a little English,” Shemtov said. “Dashiell Hammett.”
    “Who’s that?” Aaron asked.
    “An American. He writes about private detectives.”
    “Too bad he’s not here to take the case.”
    “Yes.”
    Shemtov took another sip of the terrible tea.
    “Did you find any witnesses?” Aaron asked.
    “How much do
you
want to help our little police force?”
    Aaron nodded his understanding.
    “The few people Finkelstein could catch up with were studiously ignorant,” Shemtov said.
    “I had to ask. Berson worked nights?”
    “My understanding is that he preferred it.”
    “Do you know if he was walking around alone?”
    “Well, he shouldn’t have been, but since his partner was out with a bad leg, maybe he was,” Shemtov said.
    “Wait, Martin Gersh wasn’t with Berson on patrol?”
    “No. I heard from someone else that he got hurt early in the evening, so Berson went back out alone.”
    “Do you know where Gersh is now?”
    “I think he’s in Breslaw Hospital. At least that’s what I heard,” Shemtov said.
    “Okay. Well, I guess I know where I’m going next. Thanks,” Aaron said.
    “Sure.”
    “So, otherwise, how well did you know Berson?”
    “We never worked the same shift, and I’d never met him before the Germans came,” Shemtov said.
    “But do you know anything about him?”
    “He seemed nice enough the two