Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml) Read Free Book Online

demanded. "You didn't come here to apologize for jiving me."
    "Well, in a way," I said around a mouthful of fries. "I'm on the case now, and I need an ally in the community."
    "On the case, huh? Who hired you?"
    "David Wintringham."
    "That fairy!"
    "He's not so bad."
    Sullenly, Hart shrugged.
    "Well, he's not. Did you know his father?"
    "There you go, pumping me again."
    "It's my job."
    "And you think I should help you with that job."
    "Sure."
    "What's in it for me?"
    I sipped my Coke. "A good feeling deep down in your soul."
    This time Hart grinned broadly. "You are the damndest. What do you want to know?"
    "Richard Wintringham—what was he like?"
    "Crazy old man." He stirred the big pot of barbecue sauce. "Lived up there in that big house all by himself. Strange man, but folks around here respected him. He gave the kids odd jobs, paid them good. Always sent a big load of food to the community center at Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was his neighborhood, and maybe he got off on being massa on the hill."
    "What about David Wintringham?"
    "Checking up on your boss, huh?"
    "You bet."
    Hart considered. "Now that's another kettle of fish entirely. Like I said, he's a fairy, and the old man didn't like that none."
    "Did he try to do anything about it?"
    "Can't change a tiger's stripes. Oh, they fought some, I guess, but then the old man got killed, and David got it all. Right after, he moved to the house at the end of the block with his so-called friend, poor pudgy Paul." Hart smiled at his own alliteration.
    "The police thought Richard Wintringham was killed by a burglar."
    Hart's eyes became veiled. "So I heard."
    I finished my ribs and scrubbed at my hands with a paper napkin. "But you didn't believe it. And you don't now."
    "What, you think you're a mind reader or something?"
    "I'm right, aren't I?"
    He sighed. "Maybe, maybe not. Folks around here knew Wintringham had a lot of valuable stuff in that house. But like I said, they respected him in a funny way. I think if it was a burglar that killed him, it wasn't anybody from the neighborhood. I would guess it was somebody from the outside."
    I couldn't quite credit that; junkies and rip-off artists had few loyalties. "Okay, Mr. Hart," I said, standing, "that's about all I need to know today. I take it I can come back if I have more questions?"
    He shrugged.
    "What do I owe you for lunch?"
    "Forget it. It's on the house."
    "Well, thanks."
    "Don't mention it. I kind of like talking to you; keeps me on my toes. Only one thing."
    "Yes?"
    "Next time you come, would you mind using the back door? Don't want to upset my clientele any more than I already have."
    "I get it," I said and obliged by leaving that way. From the alley behind the building, I made a beeline for the phone booth that I'd called Greg and Hank from the night before. This time the lieutenant was in his office. He answered, sounding rushed.
    "I wondered if you had the results of the postmortem on Jake Kaufmann," I said.
    "Not yet, but we should by late afternoon. There've been two other murders, and we've got bodies stacked up in there like firewood, so they'll get it out fast."
    No wonder he sounded harried. I chanced another request. "Greg, three years ago next month, another man was murdered in that house."
    "Richard Wintringham. Right."
    "Have you reviewed the file yet?"
    There was a pause. "Who are you working for?"
    "David Wintringham, the son."
    "Jesus Christ, you can't keep out of it, can you?"
    "No."
    Another pause. I could picture him, drumming his fingers on the desk. "So now you want me to review the file on the Wintringham killing and pass along the details to you."
    "Yes."
    "Christ, papoose… All right. I have to look it over anyway. Only let me tell you this: You and I are going to have a long, serious talk over dinner tonight."
    "Greg, I may be sort of late for dinner." I had a few things I wanted to do first.
    "How late?"
    "Well…"
    "Never mind. Why don't you meet me at my place whenever you can?