Free Drop Shot (1996) by Harlan - Myron 02 Coben Page A

he?"
    "Nineteen at the time of the incident."
    Myron mulled that over a moment. "That would make him twenty-five now."
    "Whoa. A math major."
    Myron did not smile. Millie brought the food. She made another comment, but Myron did not hear it. Twenty-five years old. Myron couldn't help but wonder. It was a dumb thought Unforgivable. And maybe even racist. But there it was. Twenty-five years old. Duane claimed to be twenty-one, but who knew for sure?
    But no. It can't be.
    Myron took another sip of the flat soda. "What do you know about Errol Swade?" he asked.
    "A pedigree punk. He had already been in jail three times. First offense was stealing a car. He was twelve. Assorted felonies followed. Muggings, assaults, car thefts, armed robberies, drugs. Also a member of an ultraviolent street gang. Guess what the gang was called."
    Myron shrugged. "Josie and the Pussycats?"

"Close. The Stains. Short for Bloodstains. They always wear a shirt dipped in a victim's blood. Kinda like a Boy Scout badge."
    "Charming."
    "Errol Swade and Curtis Yeller were also cousins. Swade had been living with the Yellers since his release a month earlier. Let's see what else. Swade was a dropout Big surprise. A coke addict. Another shocker. And a major league moron."
    "So how has he eluded the police for so long?"
    Jake picked up his burger and took a bite. A big bite. Half the burger vanished. "He couldn't have," he said.
    "Excuse me?"
    "No way he could have stayed out of trouble this long. Impossible."
    "Hold up. Did I miss something here?"
    "Officially the police are still looking," Jake said. "But unofficially they're sure he's dead. The kid was a dumb punk. He couldn't find his ass with both hands, never mind hide from a nationwide dragnet"
    "So what happened?"
    "Rumor has it the senator got a favor from the mob. They knocked him off."
    "Senator Cross put out a hit on him?"
    "What, that surprises you? The guy's a politician. That's like a step below child molester."
    "Weren't you elected sheriff?"
    Jake nodded. "There you go."
    Myron risked a bite of his sandwich. Tasted a bit like a sink sponge. "Do you have a physical description of Errol Swade?" he asked, almost hoping the answer was no.
    "I got better. I got Swade's mugshot." Jake dusted his hands off, rubbed them on his shirt for good measure. Then he reached into the folder and withdrew a photograph. He handed it to Myron. Myron tried not to appear too eager.
    It wasn't Duane.
    Not even close. Not even with plastic surgery. For one, Errol Swade was much lighter skinned. Swade's head was shaped like a block, completely different from Duane's. His eyes were spaced too far apart. Everything was different. His height was listed as six-four, three inches taller than Duane. Can't fake being shorter.
    Myron almost sighed with relief. "Does the name Valerie Simpson pop up in that file?" he asked.
    Jake's eyes caught a little fire. "Who?"
    "You heard me."
    "Golly, Myron, that wouldn't be the same Valerie Simpson who was murdered yesterday?"
    "By coincidence it is. Is her name in there?"
    He handed Myron half the file. "Hell if I know. Help me look."
    They went through it. Valerie's name was only on one sheet. A party guest list. Her name along with a hundred others. Myron jotted down the names and addresses of the witnesses to the murder three friends of Alexander Cross's. Nothing else of much interest in the file.
    "So," Jake said, "what does the lovely and dead Valerie Simpson have to do with this?"
    "I don't know."
    "Jesus Christ." Jake shook his head. "You still yanking my chain?"
    "I'm not yanking anything."
    "What have you got so far?"
    "Less man nothing."
    "That's what you said about Kathy Culver."
    "But this isn't your case, Jake."
    "Maybe I can help."
    "I really don't have anything. Valerie Simpson visited my office a few days ago. She wanted to make a comeback, but somebody killed her instead. I want to know who, that's all."
    "You're full of shit."
    Myron shrugged.
    "The TV said something