Free Deadly Sins by Kylie Brant Page A

the look she gave Bobby was enough to have him shuffling his feet before slowly turning toward the staircase. Then her look pinned Adam again. “State your business, Mr. Raiker.”
    “I’m working with the task force formed to look into your son’s death, Ms. Shelton. His and Byron Reinbeck’s.”
    Her laugh was short and scoffing. “Weren’t no task force formed for Danny’s death; we both know that. The task force is for that judge. And those bullets was for the judge.” Her large brown eyes filled with tears. “But my Danny’s gone, all the same. And no one wants to tell me why. They just want to ask questions ’bout did my Danny do this or know that. Truth is: He knew his flowers and not much more. But he was a good man. Had a kind way ’bout him; I made sure of that. But now the only thing people knows ’bout him was that he got hisself killed because someone wanted the judge dead.”
    “But he mattered.” Adam gave her a slow nod. “His life mattered, too. I’d like to talk to you about that if you have the time.”
    Rosa studied him for several long moments. “You look like you know a bit about sorrow and sufferin’ yourself.”
    “A bit.”
    She stepped back then and held the door wide. “Guess you can come in until the reverend gets here. We been plannin’ the service. Leastways, as much as we can plan, without knowin’ when they’ll let us have Danny’s body.”
    He followed her into the dark, cramped apartment. There was a postage–stamp–sized sitting area that opened onto a galley-style kitchen floored with cracked linoleum. The sparse furniture was worn. The shades covering the windows were yellowed and ripped. But the area was neat, and the table holding the lone lamp in the room was polished to a shine. The whole place smelled vaguely of Pine-Sol.
    “You must have been very proud of your son.” Adam regarded the woman soberly. Agents would have been dispatched to this address immediately upon learning Danny Shelton’s identity, but the file Hedgelin had given him yesterday hadn’t included copies of the ensuing conversations.
    “That school they sent ’im to said he’d never take care of hisself. That he’d have to work at one of them sheltered workshop places. But Mr. Hardt from the church has a flower shop and let Danny sweep up there. Do odd jobs. And Danny learned a lot while he was workin’ for him. After a few years he got a hankering to sell his own flowers.” Rosa settled herself with surprising grace onto the sagging couch. Adam took the remaining chair. “Mr. Hardt came up with the idea of settin’ Danny up as one of them sidewalk vendors. Was always real generous with ’im, too.”
    “That must have given your son a sense of accomplishment. To be that self-sufficient.”
    Rosa’s chin quivered once before she steadied it. “A man needs to feel he has a purpose. Danny might not’ve been as smart as others, but he had his pride. Never seen him as happy as he was since he worked with Mr. Hardt. Sorry thing is: Another week or two and Danny wouldn’t even have been out on that sidewalk. When it gets too cold, he just works in the shop all day.”
    “Where’s the store?”
    Five miles from where Danny set up, Rosa informed him. The man had a cart he pulled with his bike that held his wares, a three-sided shelter, and a chair. In the fall he often took a heater to protect the flowers.
    The entire thing sounded like a win-win for the “generous” Mr. Hardt as he was expanding his store walls for what was likely a pittance to his employee. But from the sound of things, the job had made Shelton and his mother happy, so maybe Adam was being too harsh in his assessment.
    “By any chance did Danny have a cell phone?”
    When Rosa shook her head, Adam felt the fledgling idea he’d gotten at the interviews yesterday die. It gained new life in the next instant, however, when she said, “Well, leastways, not one of his own. He couldn’t never have afforded it.