Free The Barkeep by William Lashner Page A

you, so he’s doing it.”
    Mia smiled.
    “But he’s not finding anything,” continued Scott, “and I don’t think he will. The timing is too perfect for it to be anything other than connected with Chase. Maybe it’s not just cops that you frighten. Maybe you frightened Timmy Flynn enough that he offed himself so he didn’t have to come down and talk to you.”
    “You don’t believe that, do you?”
    “You have Kingstree shaking in his loafers. But no, not a hard case like Flynn. But why would someone care enough about his changed testimony in the Chase case to give him a gift this deadly?”
    “That’s what we’re going to find out, Detective,” said Mia. “I hate to interrupt the hours of leisure available to you in your declining years, but I have a job for you.”
    “I bet you do.”
    “Remember Chase’s youngest son. The law student who told us about his father’s affair with that Overmeyer woman when we still had nothing.”
    “Sure. The defense made some argument the jury never bought, like the son was setting up the father for some twisted oedipal revenge.”
    “His name is Justin, Justin Chase. Last I heard he had checked out of some insane asylum and left the city. See if he’s back, and if he is, find him and bring him in. Let’s see if maybe the defense had a point after all.”

11.
    SOMETHING NEAT
    T here is something untidy about the job Vern has given to Derek that Derek does not like.
    Derek does not like untidiness of any kind. He makes his bed every morning when he has a bed, launders his pants in the sink every evening. Sammy D taught him that cleanliness is important in this line of work. Sammy D was neat for an addict. Usually addicts had the worst teeth, like that guy in the row house that Vern sent Derek to a couple nights back, but Sammy D’s teeth gleamed. And there was always a pleat in his pants. Grooming is the sign of a professional, Sammy taught him.
    Rodney, on the other hand, was a slob. He was too nervous to keep anything clean. Wherever he went, he shed like a Labrador retriever: tissues, papers, coins, hair. Sammy taught Derek that anything left at the scene is like a map from the deed to the doer, but Rodney never cared. His method was to keep moving, always stay one step ahead. “They can’t catch you if they can’t find you” was his motto. This untidy job would have been perfect for Rodney. After this job Rodney would have been headed right out of the city, to Altoona or Ypsilanti. Derek traveled halfway across the country with Rodney, washing his pants in motel sinks from Maine to New Mexicoas Rodney stuffed the powder up his nose and made fun of Derek’s habits.
    Derek is now inside the little house where Vern has sent him, sitting on the couch on the first floor. The lock on the back door had not been much of a challenge, and there is no alarm, which did not surprise Derek once he got inside. There is not anything in the house worth stealing. It is a nice little neighborhood off a nice little square, and the house, tiny as it is, should have been crammed full with nice stuff. But there is an emptiness here that Derek likes. The top floor has nothing but these greenish mats; the second, a bed on the floor; the first, just the couch and a table. And there is no television.
    Rodney loved television. Every night in their cheap motels, he would watch whatever was on, anything that blared and snorted. Derek would wake up in the middle of the night from some noise or other, and the television would be on even though Rodney was asleep and snoring. And whenever Derek turned it off, Rodney would snap awake. “What is it? What happened?” And then it would go back on as some late-night infomercial tried to sell something to clean the house that Rodney would never dream of buying.
    Derek likes this little house more than anyplace he has seen since he left home. As he sits on the couch set beside the front door, he can imagine living here with a dog and a bird,