The List by J.A. Konrath Read Free Book Online

several dozen brightly colored lures in neat rows.
    The man behind the display was thin, tall, in his fifties.
    “Albert Blumberg?”
    “No. He had to step away for a moment. I’m minding the store.
    You interested in one of his baits?”
    Tom took a quick look in the case, noting all the prices were triple digits or higher. He doubted there was a layaway plan.
    “Is he back in his room? We really should talk to him personally.”
    “I think so. He was bringing down more lures to display.”
    “He’s tall, right? Long hair? About my age?”
    “Wrong guy. Bert is short, short hair, big nose. Could be around your age.”
    Tom nudged Roy over. “You stay here, I’ll check the room. Call if he shows.”
    “You do the same.”
    Tom took out his cell phone, making sure it was on and set to vibrate. A ringing phone was not a wise thing for a cop to have on him in precarious situations. The loudspeaker thundered. “Sold, for seven hundred and fifty dollars!”
    There was scattered applause. Roy shook his head.
    “Seven-fifty. What kind of damn fish can you catch worth seven-fifty? I cast that out, better reel me in a Mercedes.”

    Tom wove his way though the crowd and located an elevator, entering alongside two elderly men who were discussing worm burns.
    Tom exited on his floor and followed the hall to 714. He opened his jacket and stood to the left of the door before knocking.
    “Hold on a second.”
    The voice seemed to match the one on the phone. Tom tensed a notch. The door opened.
    The man was average height, with wavy brown hair and a closely clipped mustache. He was a couple pounds overweight, which showed in his hound dog jowls. Familiar looking, but Tom couldn’t place him.
    “Are you here about the Luny Frog? I can’t go any lower than fifteen hundred. Not a single penny.” He blinked. “Okay, fourteen hundred.”
    “Bert Blumberg?”
    “Yes, that’s me. The bait is in excellent-plus condition, and it’s the first production model, complete with egg sinker. That fourteen hundred is firm. Solid. In stone. I won’t go lower.” Bert smiled, unsure. “Fine, I’ll take thirteen.”
    “I’m not here about the Luny Frog.”
    “Are you sure? You look so familiar. Wait a sec... Thomas?”
    Tom was surprised that the man knew his name. “Detective Tom Mankowski. How did...?”
    “The resemblance is uncanny. You’re number five, right?”
    The cop’s eyes narrowed, accusing. “How can you know all of this?”
    Bert squinted at him. “You don’t know? Don’t you have a tattoo on your foot?”
    “What does it mean?”
    “Tom Jessup figured it all out. I’m number six. Have you met Jessup yet?”

    “He’s dead.”
    Bert swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbling. “Dead? I just saw him a few days ago. How?”
    “Murdered. I need you to answer some questions.”
    “Sure. Of course.”
    The room was small, tidy. A suitcase was open on the table, filled with lures individually encased in bubble wrap. Bert closed the door and paced to the table, then to the bed, then to the table again, staring at the floor.
    “This is... this is bad. Very bad. He knew there was something wrong. I talked to him on Thursday. He said he was being followed.
    Am I next?” Bert looked at Tom, his eyes wide. “Could I be in danger?
    I buy and sell fishing lures, for the love of Mike. I never hurt anyone—
    I mean, sure, sometimes people get a hook in the finger—”
    “Sit down, Mr. Blumberg.”
    “How was he murdered?”
    “Please sit down.”
    Bert sat at the table and began to drum his fingers. Tom pulled up a chair, almost touching. He leaned close.
    “Tell me about the tattoo, and how you know my name.”
    “You won’t believe it.”
    “Try me.”
    “I didn’t believe it either. Thought Jessup was a crackpot. But when I saw all the research, and the DNA...”
    “From the beginning. Tell me.”
    “Tell you? No. No that’s no good. You won’t believe me. How about I show you?”
    Bert went to the