Free A Killing Sky by Andy Straka

this time.”
    He frowned, let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “That's just wonderful, Frank. We've got a U.S. congressman's daughter bugged out on us and you're playing a shell game with our major witness.”
    “Not my call.”
    “No?” He knew better than to try to shake me down. But he seemed disappointed. “This is the kind of shit that wrecks people's careers.”
    I was about to say something like I ought to know, but I figured it wouldn't earn me any merit badges at the moment.
    He looked across at his understudy. She shook her head, but he spoke anyway. “Carol,” he said, “maybe you oughta let me take the heat that might come down over this.”
    “Are you kidding?” she said. “I'd rather go back to working security at the university.”
    That Carol. Feeble little woman.
    His eyes bored back into me. “What else do you know about this”—he looked down at his notes—”Cartwright Drummond?” Ferrier obviously didn't follow the news much.
    “What do you mean?”
    “She ever done this kind of thing before? Ever been in trouble? Maybe drugs or alcohol is involved.… And this swimmer you talked to, the boyfriend? We want to talk to him yesterday. I assume you know where to find him.”
    “Delighted to be of assistance.” I smiled, but not too big.
    “What about the names of the other friends you said you got?”
    “Nothing remarkable, as far as I can tell, but I'm happy to share.”
    “And the parents? What about them?”
    “I know as much as everybody else, I guess. What I read in the papers.”
    Politically incorrect Carol grunted. “Drummond's your basic scumbag. Trying to get reelected after the kind of crap he pulled …”
    Ferrier looked to be thinking the situation over. I had come to him partly because of who he was, but also because in his current position he was a lot less likely to allow his chain to be jerked, if it came to that, by some higher-up.
    “Lot of possibilities here, Frank, in what you're not telling us. Might just have to hold you as a material witness,” he said. “You know, let you think about this whole situation with the other twin and everything.”
    “Aw, c'mon, Bill. Which of my lawyers do you want me to call first?”
    I had employed several over the years, actually. Specialists. Some were even my own clients. In Charlottesville you can hardly walk across the street without tripping over an attorney. I don't always get the personal loyalty or attention of having only one, but then again, I prefer being on the side with the expertise.
    Ferrier was twisting his lips, apparently formulating a not too kind retort to my bringing lawyers into the equation, when there was a little disturbance on the far side of the room.
    “Where is he? I want to talk to him right now.”
    Chief of Police Willard Abercrombie waddled into the room like a walrus on quaaludes. He was better than two hundred and fifty pounds of impeccable grooming, a few inches taller than Ferrier, decked out in white shirt and tie, khakis, soft shoes, and navy jacket, his small blue-green eyes framed by tortoise-shell glasses.
    “Well, well, well,” he said. “If it isn't our guest of honor.”
    “Like I was saying about the lawyer—” I said to Ferrier and Upwood, ignoring the chief.
    Abercrombie wasn't used to being ignored. He huffed and he puffed and he looked about ready to blow a circuit, but Ferrier cut in on him.
    “We've explained to the chief your involvement in all this, Frank. I'm sure you'd agree that things have… uh… escalated a little beyond the scope of private investigation.”
    I said nothing. But my estimate of Bill Ferrier shot up even more. He'd helped bail me out of a jam once before. Maybe he would come through again.
    “When'd you get such a high-profile client list, Pavlicek?” Abercrombie asked. “I thought you specialized in chasing husbands out of whores’ beds.”
    Some people are made vindictive by circumstances. Some may have just been born that way.
    I