Free Crooked Numbers by Tim O'Mara Page B

residence.”
    “This is Raymond Donne,” I said. “Is Mrs. Lee home?”
    “The teacher from the newspaper?” A slight Southern accent.
    “Yes.” I was already getting tired of this. “Is Mrs. Lee there?”
    “Oh, no,” the woman said. “They’re all still at the cemetery. You didn’t go to the church, young man?”
    “No, ma’am. I didn’t.”
    “That’s okay,” she reassured me. “Gloria told me you didn’t strike her as a church-going person. But you seem nice just the same.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “When’s a good time…” There was no way to finish that without sounding stupid. “When would I be able to speak with Mrs. Lee?”
    “She wants everyone to know she’ll be expecting them at the apartment tomorrow afternoon. Anytime after one. I’m back here taking calls and cleaning, getting the home ready for tomorrow.”
    “That’s very nice of you.”
    “It’s what family does,” she explained. “I went to the church, but I don’t much care for cemeteries.”
    Like the rest of us enjoyed them. “Okay, then. Thank you, Miss…”
    “Dutton. Missus Sarah Dutton. Gloria’s cousin from Virginia.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Dutton. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “You better, young man. I know Gloria’s expecting you especially. And I’m sure there’s a whole buncha others who would like to meet you.”
    “I guess that settles it then.”
    “It most certainly does. Oh,” she said. “Don’t eat a big breakfast.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    I hung up the phone, threw my sneakers, a pair of shorts, and a shirt into my gym bag, and grabbed one more cup of coffee before heading out to Muscles’s. I was trying to locate my keys when I remembered one more call I wanted to make. It took me a minute to find his card.
    “Murcer,” he said.
    “Dennis, it’s Raymond.”
    “What can I do for you, Ray?”
    So much for small talk. “I just wanted to check in, see how the article was received on your end.”
    He laughed. “My end received it just fine. Any piece that says how hard we’re working to solve a case gets received just fine. It didn’t hurt to have your name—your uncle’s name—attached to it.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “It gets me into restaurants all the time.”
    He waited a few beats before saying, “What’s that?”
    “Nothing. Hey, about the gang angle?”
    “I told you yesterday,” he said, “the Family’s got a loose structure. It’s hard to get a handle on it, and the word on the street ain’t been much help.”
    Okay, I thought. Let’s see how he receives this. “I may have some information related to the Family.”
    I thought I heard him swallow. He may have been eating. “What’s that, now?”
    “A former student of mine,” I said. “He turned me on to a guy who has an inside track on the Family.”
    “Interesting, Ray. And what did you do with this inside track ?”
    “I had breakfast with a guy this morning.”
    “And…?”
    “The guy I spoke with said he—the Royal Family—had no connection with Douglas Lee.”
    “And I should believe that why?”
    “Because the guy didn’t have to meet with me, and had no reason to lie.”
    “Everybody’s got a reason to lie, Ray. Your uncle taught us that. This guy you spoke with, he a member of the Family?”
    “I promised not to tell.”
    Another laugh. “Jesus. You’ve had quite an astounding two days keeping your nose out of this business. You get to check out a crime scene with a reporter and the investigating detective, your name and picture get in the papers, and now you’re cultivating confidential informants. Tell me again what you do for a living these days.”
    I ignored that. Largely because I knew where he was going, and he was right.
    “I did find out something I can tell you, Dennis. If you’re interested.”
    He swallowed again. “Enlighten me.”
    “One reason it might be hard to get a read on the Royal Family is they seem to have different leadership on each side of