Shake Down Dead by Diane Morlan Read Free Book Online Page B

said looking at Decker. “Did
you arrest Harold?”
    “Of course not,” Decker replied. “He
promised to pay for the windshield and we took him back to the
group home. I actually like the guy. He’s very
friendly.”
    “That he is,” Pete agreed. “Did he give
you a hug when you brought him home?”
    “Yeah, he did. Guess he was grateful
that we didn’t lock him up.” Decker’s face had turned a light
crimson.
    “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Harold hugs
everyone. He’s a real friendly guy. It’s one of the characteristics
of Downs’ Syndrome—the Cadillac of mental retardation. If you have
to have a developmental disability, that’s the one you want.
Usually higher functioning and the easiest to get along with.
Harold is typical. He’s also stubborn and has a need to get his own
way.”
    Decker smiled at me, “Just like some
other people I know.”
    Just then, Becky brought our drinks, a
wine cooler for me and two Leinenkugels for the guys. Pete paid
her, waving at her to keep the change. She also dropped the check
for our dinner next to Decker.
    “What’s with you guys drinking
Wisconsin beer?” I protested. “Doesn’t anyone drink the local
beer?”
    “JJ, have you tasted the local beer?”
Pete asked.
    “No. I’m not a beer drinker. It all
tastes nasty to me.”
    Pete said, “Well, there you
go.”

    9
    I asked Pete if Whitney had been
located yet. “Not that I know of,” he said. “I left about an hour
after you did. I was off duty; just hung around to see what would
happen to Harold.”
    “Jennifer,” Decker admonished me. “Are
you still on this kick? I’m sure she’s home by now.”
    “Well, she wasn’t just before you
picked me up. I called her mother again and she said Whitney wasn’t
there.”
    “What do you mean ‘again’?” asked
Decker. “How many times did you call that poor woman?”
    “Only once,” I replied, looking down to
my hands in my lap.
    “Then what did you mean when you said
‘again’?”
    “I sort of stopped by on my way
home.”
    Decker’s eyes were piercing and I was
getting really nervous. I knew he was going to lecture
me.
    “The Wentworth’s condo isn’t anywhere
near where you live,” he snapped. “What did you say to that poor
woman? You probably scared her half to death!”
    “I did not! And stop calling her ‘that
poor woman.’ She’s anything but poor. Mostly she’s half in the bag.
She said that Whitney usually meets some friends here on Saturday
nights.” I hated it when Decker made me feel like a little kid out
after curfew.
    “Oh, so that’s why you wanted to come
here.” Decker looked around. “I should have known. You hate country
music.”
    “And I thought it was because you
wanted to see me.” Pete gave Decker a smirk and I could see
Decker’s face darken.
    “Pete, I didn’t know that you
frequented this place!” I exclaimed. “I’m concerned about Whitney.
Do you usually see her here on Saturday nights?” I was trying to
ignore Decker for a while until he cooled down.
    “Yeah, most of the time,” Pete said.
“But I haven’t seen her tonight.”
    “What about the friends she usually
meets?”
    “Oh, the Plumpers?” he asked with a
grin.
    “What are you talking about?” I
asked.
    He had the decency to be embarrassed
when he answered, “You know, um, the three of them are sort of
overweight—you know, plump. I didn’t make it up. A guy I know
started it.”
    “Shame on you and the friend who gave
them that name.” I said, looking daggers at him. “I hope there are
some eighteen-year-olds that call you ‘That old guy!’ Now, are any
of them here?”
    “Yeah,” Peter replied sheepishly. “Two
of the usuals are up at the bar. At least they were when I first
got here. The other gal wasn’t here.”
    He pointed to the end of the bar where
the two women were sitting. They had a birds-eye view of the entire
place, especially the front door.
    The women were a little plump, which
was no reason to