Free Lincoln Perry 02 - Sorrow's Anthem by Michael Koryta Page B

and kept silent. Ed had been anything but fine,
hiding out in a bar, drunk, with a cop’s blood on his shirt, but if
Draper wanted to tell himself he’d played the role of a protector, I
wouldn’t challenge it.
“I’m past that now,” he said. “Blaming you, that is. You showed
up, right? And I know you showed up 'cause you wanted to help
him. That took some serious balls, Lincoln.”
I leaned back, trying to clear some space in the little booth. He
watched my face carefully, smoking his cigarette. Then he
shrugged. “I think Ed had to appreciate the effort. And if he was
going to go down that day, well, must have been nice for him to
have an old friend by his side as he went.”
I thought of Ed’s drunken run into the street, the clumsy way
his feet had tangled, the screech of brakes that were doing too little,
too late.
“Sure,” I said. “Must have been nice.”
Cancerno hadn’t said a word during our exchange, just sat and
sipped a whiskey on the rocks.
“How long had Ed worked for you?” I asked him.
“Six months, maybe?” He shrugged. “Scott’s the one recommended
him to me.” He gave Draper a look that had more bite
than the whiskey in his glass.
Draper met it coolly. “I’d recommend him to you again, Jimmy.”
“Hell of a thing to say, considering.” Cancerno scowled.
“Pretty broken up about Ed, huh?” I said, the small booth feeling
smaller to me with every word Cancerno said.
“I supposed to give a shit?” he said, eyes wide. “I hardly knew
the guy. He was just a carpenter and a painter, same as a dozen
other guys. 'Cept a dozen other guys don’t bring the cops to my
door.”
“That bothers you,” I said, and his gaze narrowed.
“Yeah. It bothers me. I’m a guy that likes his distance from the
cops, asshole. That’s all you need to know.”
“Easy, Jimmy, Lincoln’s not challenging you.” Draper’s tone
made it clear that if I was challenging him, I’d better stop it.
We drank for a bit, none of us speaking. Draper finished his cigarette
and took the pack out, but didn’t light another one.
“You guys were gone, what, ten minutes before he got hit by that
car?” he asked.
“Not even that.”
“But enough time to talk a little, right?”
'We talked. He was pretty drunk. His mind was going places
without taking me along.”
    “What do you mean?”
“Seemed like he was talking to himself as much as he was talking
to me,” I said. “He’d hint at some stuff but not get specific.
When I asked questions, he jumped in new directions.”
Draper stared at the table, sliding the pack of cigarettes back
and forth between his fingers.
“He was into some trouble,” I said, and Draper looked up. “You
know anything about that? Who he was dealing with?”
“As far as I knew, he was clean and had been for years.” Draper
stood up. “I’m going to grab another beer. Be right back.”
He slid out and then it was just me and Jimmy Cancerno in the
booth. Cancerno worked on what was left of his whiskey and
looked bored.
“Was he a good worker for you?” I asked.
He spoke over the glass. “Good as any of them. Showed up on
time and went home on time and billed for the time he’d worked.
We do things a little different on my projects, see. Not a lot of paperwork.
Pay in cash. It was a good job for him.”
“What kind of projects was he working on?”
“Fixed houses, mostly. Was supposed to be fixing the one he
burned down. It was a small job; I wouldn’t have made much off it.
Now I’m likely to get sued thanks to the son of a bitch.”
“I thought the house was empty.”
“It was,” Cancerno said as if he were explaining something to a
child. “But the property company that owned the place wanted it
fixed. So they could sell it, right? Go figure.”
I leaned forward, suddenly glad Cancerno was here, after all.
“But he had a reason to be on the property, then?”
Cancerno hacked something up and re-swallowed it. Attractive.
“We hadn’t started the work on that