Run the Risk by Scott Frost Read Free Book Online

explosion, we combed through every piece of Sweeny’s life that was left behind in the bungalow. But beyond discovering that he wore boxers and bought cheap clothes, there was little to tell much of a story. There were no family pictures, no letters, address books, bank statements, checks, nothing that even remotely appeared personal. No favorite pen by the phone, nothing stuck to the door of the refrigerator. Nothing on top of the small cheap dresser next to the bed. Even the food in the fridge was all prepackaged dinners that appeared designed to obscure any sense of the individual. The sum total of my knowledge about him was that he had a thirty-four-inch waist and liked bland food, which sounded a lot like most of the men I had dated in my life.
    But what I did know about Sweeny and maybe all that really mattered was that he knew something about the shooting of the florist Daniel Finley, and because of that knowledge someone had tried to kill him. And if the young genius Detective Harrison was right, the man who planted the bomb was probably not the same person who so intimately put a bullet in the back of Daniel Finley’s head, which meant I might be looking for two killers instead of one.
    â€œI’m going to need a partner on this investigation to replace Traver. You want it?”
    â€œI’m not Homicide.”
    â€œAnd I’m not an explosives expert.”
    I could see him working it out in his head like he wastracing the intricate wires of an explosive device: the red one here, the blue one there, don’t ground this one, and for God’s sake, don’t touch the two leads together or that’s the end of the party.
    â€œI don’t . . . I don’t really like being around bodies,” he said.
    â€œNo . . . just small unidentifiable pieces of them.”
    His face pained for a moment as if replaying a bad memory. “It’s just—”
    â€œI wasn’t asking if you want it. . . . You’re it,” I said.
    â€œYou don’t have to get this approved?”
    â€œThe supervising detective of Homicide is responsible for all assignments in the division.”
    â€œAnd you’re the supervising detective.”
    â€œRight.”
    He was the first cop I had ever met who took being asked to work Homicide as a form of punishment. He had the appearance of a man who had just been tossed out into the light of day after living in a cave for years. The world was a big place and it was all out of his control.
    â€œIt’s a temporary assignment.”
    â€œGood,” he responded, his eyes betraying no emotion, retreating to the hideout of his good looks.
    I stepped out into the drive between the bungalows and walked to the edge of the taped perimeter. The rain had stopped, though the pavement was still wet and the dark clouds still hung low on the mountains. I removed the plastic booties from my shoes and handed them to one of the forensic investigators.
    Harrison emerged from the bungalow and was examining the door that had stuck in the wall of the adjacent bungalow. He looked like a man better suited for an archaeology dig than a crime scene. He didn’t want his new assignment, which as far as I was concerned made him perfect for it. Beware of someone who wants something too much. I think my mother told me that, though she was talking about sex, not ambition.
    I got in my car and began driving through the wet streetspast old Craftsman cottages and Spanish ramblers with terra-cotta-tiled roofs. I would stop by the hospital to check on Dave, then go home to see if my relationship with my daughter was in any better shape than Sweeny’s bungalow.

4
    LACY WAS HOME when I pulled into the garage on Mariposa. As I stepped into the kitchen, I could hear the sound of the television in her room at the other end of the house. There were the remains of a salad on a plate next to the sink. What she ate couldn’t sustain a