Free Chill of Night by John Lutz Page B

returned to the sales floor, tacked sideways through the sea of lamps toward them on a collision course. Beam liked that. She seemed to have more to say, and she hadn’t wanted to say it in front of Webb.
    Mary Jane was smiling as she intercepted them near a bamboo and wicker floor lamp that was part of the tropical line. “Was Mr. Webb any help to you?”
    â€œMaybe,” Nell said. “Time will tell.”
    â€œHe mentioned that Bev was coming into work late the past several months,” Beam said.
    Nell decided to keep silent and let Beam handle this, watch him work and maybe learn something from the master.
    Mary Jane didn’t look surprised. “He say why?”
    Beam shook his head no. “Said he didn’t know why.”
    Mary Jane suddenly seemed hesitant, now that it was time to release the words she’d stored up for them. Nell had seen it before when people with something to say to the police also had something to lose: Word jam.
    Beam reached out and gently touched the tropical lamp’s glowing shade, as if caressing a work of art. “Beautiful piece of merchandise. Makes you think of the South Seas.”
    Mary Jane definitely didn’t want to talk about lamps. “Did he mention Lenny Rodman?”
    â€œNo…” Beam seemed thoughtful. Nothing rough or threatening about him now; merely a benign if looming gentleman who happened to be a cop. He seemed just as interested in the lamp as in what Mary Jane had to say.
    â€œLenny’s why,” Mary Jane said in a near whisper.
    â€œWho exactly is this Lenny?” Beam asked with a smile. Definitely on Mary Jane’s side. “Other than Bev’s reason for tardiness?”
    â€œFire extinguisher lamps.”
    â€œAh!” As if Beam understood.
    â€œLenny wholesaled us grosses of the damned things and they haven’t retailed for beans. Lamps made outta obsolete fire extinguishers. Can’t give the things away. Lenny sold himself to Bev, though. He fed her a line and she took the bait along with the hook. Smart as she was, she couldn’t control her heart, love being so blind. She thought she was using the guy, sneaking around with him, and he was using her.”
    â€œAn old story but sad one,” Beam said. Nell thought he might actually cluck his tongue. “Did her husband suspect?”
    Mary Jane looked incredulous. “Are you kidding? That guy’s so wrapped up in fairways and doglegs it’s all he thinks about. He was ignoring Bev for a little white ball. That was part of the problem.”
    â€œReally? Did she confide this to you?” Beam leaning closer, intent with interest, making Mary Jane his coconspirator.
    â€œSome of it, but not all. Didn’t have to. Women can tell. You understand, I’m sure.”
    Beam did. He also understood that Mary Jane didn’t like Lenny Rodman, or maybe liked him too much, or she wouldn’t have made it a point to mention him.
    Now she wanted to do more than merely mention. She was ripe.
    Time to dish.
    He aimed his kindly smile at Nell like a flashlight, then at Mary Jane. “So tell us about Lenny.”

11
    Beam and Nell were in Beam’s Lincoln, on their way to Lenny Rodman’s Brooklyn address, when Beam’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking a corner with one hand on the steering wheel, he yanked out the phone, flipped up its lid, and glanced at the Caller ID. Looper.
    â€œBeam, Loop.”
    They were breaking the law, using a hand-held phone in New York while driving, Nell thought. Felt good.
    â€œI talked to Floyd Baker, then called two of his golf buddies,” said Looper’s voice on the phone, almost breaking up as the big Lincoln rounded the corner and rocked as it straightened out. Looks like his alibi is tight. In fact, he already seems to be getting over his grief at his wife’s death. Once it was obvious he wasn’t going to be a suspect, all he wanted to talk