The Long Good Boy by Carol Lea Benjamin Read Free Book Online

said, “leastways not to me. He wouldn’t care if you did him. In fact, he might like a change, s’long as you promise to—”
    â€œGet in and out on time.”
    She nodded and smiled, pleased I was such a quick study.
    I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
    Chi Chi shrugged. “We can split the money, if that’s it.” Scowling.
    â€œThat’s not it.”
    â€œThen what? Oh, I get it. Okay, keep it all. I’ll live.”
    Something about her eyes scared me. I looked away for a moment, thinking how nice it would be to be home, asleep in my own bed.
    â€œIt wouldn’t help, Chi Chi. I need to be in there alone, not when Vinnie’s there. I need to look through files and papers. Look, you have your way of working, and I have mine. There has to be another way for me to get in there when they’re closed. I need a little time to figure that out.”
    â€œThis Mulrooney, he never met Rosalinda. He never even laid eyes on her. What you think you’re going to find in there?”
    â€œI don’t know, but coincidence gives me a funny taste in my mouth,” I told her, immediately regretting my choice of words. “They were both killed the same night. And she had a connection to Mulrooney’s place of business. Maybe that’s just what happened. Maybe those murders were two separate—”
    â€œWord is, he was killed because he changed trash companies. He comes in, brand-new, first thing he rocks the boat.” She shook her head. “Dumb.” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, cupping it in her hand and holding her hand down at her side, like at five in the morning someone was going to give a shit, was going to tell her not to smoke. “Rosalinda, she didn’t have nothing to do with the carting industry, and like I told you, she never met Mulrooney. Vinnie had her out of there long before Mulrooney showed up for work.”
    I nodded. “Still. I’m not going to tell you how to do your work, and you’re not going to tell me how to do mine, deal?”
    She shrugged one wide shoulder. “I was jus’ saying, is all.”
    â€œIf it’s nothing, no connection between them, fine. I’d be less than responsible to you and LaDonna and Jasmine if I didn’t check it out.”
    When the waiter brought the burger and fries and put it down in front of her, Chi Chi looked confused. Then she pushed the plate toward me, as if I’d been the one who’d ordered it. It sat there getting cold until the check came. There was a moment of awkwardness, but Chi Chi insisted on paying, picking up Clint and pulling the money out of the little pocket in his jacket, leaving a generous tip.
    â€œThey’s in a cash business, too,” she said. A little too loud. Half the people in the restaurant had turned to look at her.
    I got up, then sat down again.
    â€œChi Chi, you’re going to see Vinnie again tomorrow morning?”
    â€œYeah. Why, you change your mind?”
    â€œHow many times a week do you see him?”
    She shrugged. “Whenever he aks me to.”
    â€œWell, on average, what is it, two times a week, three?”
    â€œYeah, around that. Sometimes four.”
    â€œWhere the hell does he get the money to pay you fifty bucks a pop, three, four times a week?”
    â€œSometimes from his pocket, sometimes from the cash box.”
    â€œThe cash box?”
    She nodded, as if to say, Where else would he get the money from but from Keller’s not so petty cash, what was so unusual about that? “That’s what he say, You wait here, Chi Chi, I’m short today. I go get your money from the cash box.”
    â€œBut you never saw it, the cash box? It’s not in the office?”
    â€œUh-uh.”
    â€œHe goes somewhere else to get the money?”
    â€œUm-hmm.”
    â€œBut you don’t know where?”
    â€œUh-uh. ’Cept one time. Usually he