Surest Poison, The by Chester D. Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

say for sure if it was this guy.”
    “Did you notice what kind of car he got
into?”
    “No. I wasn’t paying that much attention.
Sorry.”
    “Is there anybody else here who might
have seen something?”
    He looked around at the workers behind
the counter, all teenagers. “I doubt it. They don’t get out front much,
except to clean the tables or empty trash cans. I’ll ask around and give you
a call if I learn anything.”
    Jaz gave him a business card and thanked
him.
    “How about a milkshake or something?” he
asked with a silly grin. “It’s on the house.”
    “Thanks, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
She smiled and turned toward the nearest exit. She wanted to be polite, but
cradle robbing wasn’t part of her repertoire.
    She was about to open the door to her car
when her cell phone rang.
    Connie Wallace spoke in a hushed voice.
“Bobby is back.”
    Jaz swung the door open and dropped onto
the seat. “Is he okay? What happened?”
    “He hasn’t been beat up or anything, if
that’s what you mean. But he’s acting awful strange. Something’s scared him.
I haven’t seen him this shook up in years. Not since the time he almost
drove off an embankment one night when somebody swiped a road sign.”
    “Where has he been?”
    “He won’t talk about it, and he doesn’t
want me to say anything to anybody. He doesn’t know I’m calling you. Please
don’t mention anything about it. Oh, oh . . . I hear him. I’ve gotta go.”
     
     
     
    8
      
     
     
    Th e
restaurant sat a few blocks from
the courthouse. It was a small, airy place full of chrome and white tile
with a working jukebox, reminiscent of something out of the middle of the
last century. Sid found a booth near the entrance. He ordered coffee for
himself and a cappuccino for Jaz. After burning out on coffee during her
Metro Police days, she had taken up the Italian concoction during visits to
her truck stops. She didn’t care for the fancy kind made with a noisy mixer
but the commercial version produced with powder and hot water from a
self-serve machine.
    Jaz arrived shortly after the waitress
brought their drinks.
    “Guess what,” she said. “Bobby Wallace is
back.”
    “Back home?”
    “Connie called and said he came home
acting like somebody frightened of his shadow. He didn’t want her to say
anything about it to anybody.”
    “Where had he been?”
    “He refused to tell her anything. But it
sounds like somebody threatened to dump him in the fiery furnace.”
    “At least he’s back home in one piece,”
he said. “Have you called his grandparents?”
    “Yes. Marie was really relieved. I hope
she can convince him to come clean.” She picked up the cup of cappuccino and
took a tentative sip. “What did you learn at HarrCo?”
    “Not much, except the crowd that picketed
the courthouse moved out to Harrington’s place. Looked like a bunch of
Teamsters with all their signs. Harrington had never heard of Auto Parts
Rehabbers. I learned something useful from Murray Estes, though. The manager
was a guy named Tony Decker.”
    “I can do a computer trace on him,” Jaz
said.
    “Have at it.”
    “Auto Parts
Rehabbers, too?”
    “Sure. It’ll save me some time.” She knew
a lot more about digging for such things than he did, although he had gotten
a short course on skip tracing from a PI he once worked with in Lewisville.
“Is there anything I can do for you on the Bobby Wallace situation?”
    “Until he decides to tell us what it’s
all about, I don’t know what anyone could do.”
    Sid watched in silence as she toyed with
the cappuccino cup.
    After a few moments, he asked, “Heard
anything else about the poker players?”
    That perked her up. “I talked to Wick
this morning. Jack and the Judge are in. I guess that takes care of
everybody.”
    Wick was Metro Police Sgt. Wick Stanley.
The others included Jack Post, a retired newspaper crime writer, former
Criminal Court