Free Body Copy by Michael Craven

intuitive thinker who will help them crack this case.
    It’s very similar to the reason reporters often don’t have trouble getting people to talk to them. People want to talk to them, they want the attention, they want to obtain that feeling of importance and know that when the case is done or the article is written, they contributed.
    But seldom do they not call back. Unless something is up.
    So, Tremaine put in a call to John Lopez. He had a question for him, a question about Tyler Wilkes. He knew this question was going to cost him a steak dinner, they always did, so that night they decided to have just that, a steak dinner, at Taylor’s, just west of downtown. Tremaine’s treat.
    When Tremaine entered Taylor’s, John Lopez was already sitting down.
    “Insane Tremaine,” Lopez said as he stood up, Tremaine now within earshot.
    “You know I don’t like that nickname,” Tremaine said.
    “Yeah,” Lopez said. “That’s why I use it.”
    “Lopez,” Tremaine said. “It’s good to see you. Wait, no, actually it’s not.”
    The two sat down, in the dark back booth that Lopez had selected. The AC was on full blast, it was damn near freezing in the place. Perfect. It had been a hot day, it felt good. There was a cold Budweiser on the table for Tremaine, another plus. Lopez had one too, his half drunk.
    Tremaine and Lopez caught up, got a couple beers down, ordered.
    About halfway into their steaks, they began to discuss the 76
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    matter at hand, Tyler Wilkes. “I looked into Wilkes for you.
    Looks like he may not be such a great guy,” Lopez said.
    “Surprise, surprise,” Tremaine said. “Like I said, I got no call back from him after two messages.”
    “As you know,” Lopez said, “he was never officially named a suspect in the Roger Gale case. And he was questioned pretty extensively by some of the detectives.”
    “Yeah, I read that. Larry DeSouza and Bill Peterson.”
    “Right. You can call them if you want. I told them about you.”
    “Cool.”
    “Peterson’s actually in Atlanta now,” Lopez said.
    “What, he transferred?” Tremaine said.
    “Yeah, I know, it’s rare for detectives to transfer.”
    “Won’t he have to start at the bottom? What does he know about Atlanta?”
    “Usually that’s the case. But Peterson knows the captain down there. He was able to keep his position and make more dough. I probably would have made the move, too.
    Cops don’t make P.I. money.”
    “That’s why I’m getting dinner,” Tremaine said.
    “No, you’re getting dinner because I’m giving you priv-ileged information on Tyler Wilkes.”
    “Oh, yeah,” Tremaine said.
    Lopez said, “DeSouza said Tyler Wilkes was really jealous of Roger Gale.”
    “Yeah, Wilkes has an agency down the street that doesn’t get half the respect Roger Gale’s place does.”
    “Right,” Lopez said. “Everyone thought Wilkes might have been obsessed with Roger Gale. His agency looks like Roger Gale’s, he used to always talk about him . . .”
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    “On top of that,” Tremaine added, “no matter what Wilkes does, the rest of the ad community always accuses him of just copying the stuff Roger Gale did.”
    Lopez took a big swig of his beer and said, “They could never really get anything on him, though. You know that already. But the detectives then didn’t know what I’m about to tell you. It hadn’t happened yet. And it doesn’t pertain to the Roger Gale thing.”
    “Before you tell me, let me tell you my suspicion,” Tremaine said. ”He talked to the cops at the time, willingly and regularly, right?”
    “You saw the report. They grilled his ass.”
    “Well, I haven’t told Wilkes why I’m calling. So he must not think I’m calling about that. Because even if he is hiding something about Roger Gale, he’s figured out his spiel regarding that matter. He’s got no reason to duck me. He didn’t duck the police, why would he duck me? So maybe he’s worried about