Free Lassiter 06 - Fool Me Twice by Paul Levine Page B

Yeah?”
    “ And I told him Sinatra
wore a better toupee.”
    “ I don’t wear a
toupee.”
    “ Really? No one can
tell.”
    The major cleared his throat and said, “Mr.
Lassiter, were you expecting any visitors here tonight?”
    “ No,” I said,
softly.
    “ Why did you leave the
house?”
    “ Like I said before, I had
to meet someone.” When possible, I like telling cops the
truth.
    “ Someone?”
    “ Call it a date if you
like.” Okay, okay, so it wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the
truth.
    “ What was the lady’s
name?”
    “ I didn’t say she was a
lady.” True enough. I also didn’t say she was a she.
    Socolow couldn’t stand it. “Jake, what’s her
name, for chrissakes. We gotta establish your whereabouts, you know
that.”
    “ That could be
embarrassing,” I said. Still true. I should get a Boy Scout badge
for this.
    “ Why? She
married?”
    I gave my best bashful grin. “You said it,
Abe, not me.”
    I felt Kip’s hand squeeze mine, but he
didn’t flinch, didn’t say a word. What a trooper the kid was, and
what a role model his old uncle Jake. In just a few hours, the kid
learned how to drive recklessly, witnessed a grisly murder scene,
drank his first beer, and watched his blood kin mislead the cops.
And poor Granny was worried about a little spray-paint graffiti. If
the kid hung out with me much longer, he’d be knocking off Wells
Fargo trucks before he hit puberty.
    Abe Socolow was prowling again. “When Baroso
was in your office on Thursday ...”
    Socolow let it hang there, but if he thought
I’d start a narrative like some motor-mouth witness, he had a long
wait. After a moment, he continued, “...what did you talk
about?”
    “ C’mon, Abe. That’s
privileged, and you know it.”
    “ Not if Baroso disclosed a
plan to kill Kyle Hornback, it isn’t.
    “ Hey, Abe. We’ve known each
other a long time. If that had happened, don’t you know I would
have stopped him one way or another?”
    “ Yeah, I like to think
so.”
    “ Besides, Blinky Baroso
isn’t a killer. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have the physical
ability to . . .” I gestured to a corner of the room, where the
crime lab cops were taking the body temperature of the corpse.
“Hornback must go about one eighty, one eighty-five,” I continued.
“Blinky couldn’t benchpress a breadstick, much less strangle the
guy and hoist him to the ceiling. You’re looking for someone bigger
and stronger, someone who’s good with his hands.”
    “ You’re right,” Socolow
said, softly, “someone like you.”
    ***
    I made coffee for my guests while they
waited for the assistant medical examiner, who either was lost or
had other customers.
    Take a number, there were three other
homicide scenes ahead of ours, according to the younger
detective.
    While we waited, the female crime scene cops
were smoking cigarettes, talking to each other about overtime and
the supervisor who calls them babes. The detectives were scribbling
in their little notebooks and whispering. Abe Socolow’s face was
set into its usual frown with an occasional glare thrown in for
variety. “I suppose you know Hornback wanted to cut a deal before
sentencing,” he said.
    “ I figured.”
    “ He was supposed to come in
tomorrow with his lawyer. He had something to trade about your
client, something that could make a bigger case, maybe involve the
feds.”
    “ Uh-huh.”
    “ What do you know about it,
Jake?”
    “ Nothing,” I answered,
which for once was entirely accurate. “I heard Hornback and Baroso
exchange words in the courtroom at the end of the trial, and that’s
all I know. Blinky has another deal going out west, but I don’t
know the details, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Besides, he
assured me it’s legitimate.”
    “ And you believed
him?”
    “ I’ve been trying to get
him into something straight for years.”
    “ I know that, Jake. You see
the glimmer of good that’s in all these jerkoffs. It’s your