laughed nervously. "You probably don't believe me, but it's the honest-to-God truth. His name is Edward Jones. And that's all I can tell you."
"Thanks," I said as I walked to the door. "You can keep the bribe."
I waited outside the house for three hours, slumped down in the car seat and trying to look inconspicuous. I was about ready to flunk myself on character analysis when Trudy finally appeared and flagged a taxi.
Carter, I thought, it's a good thing you aren't a trusting soul.
I took off behind the cab, which led me across town to a cheap apartment house. I followed Trudy inside in time to spot her darting up a flight of stairs. At the end of a long hallway, the busty blonde knocked on a door. When she got no reply, she knocked harder. Then she turned and saw me and her eyes widened in astonishment.
"Your story didn't have the ring of truth," I told her, "but I got my money's worth. You led me here."
"Clever as hell, aren't you?" she spat.
I tried the door. "Apparently Moose isn't home. What do you suggest we do about that?"
She ran for the next flight of stairs. I pursued her to the roof and cornered her. She fought and scratched my face, tried to knee me in the groin, and called me some names I hadn't heard in years. Considering my widely varied travels, that was saying quite a lot for her vocabulary.
I pulled her wrists behind her and forced her over to the edge of the roof. "Now let's hear the truth about Moose."
"You won't push me off. He would, but you won't."
"Don't count on it, Trudy. Moose killed a friend of mine and beat a girl to death. I'm going to find him and I don't care what I have to do along the way."
She was panting. "Is that true, about the girl? Are you on the level?"
"The girl's name was Sheila. Did you ever hear Moose mention her?"
"Never. And I haven't seen him lately. He lived in that apartment when I knew him. I thought he'd like to know you were looking for him. That's the only reason I came. I swear it is."
"Does he call himself Edward Jones, or did you make that up?"
"He used the name when I knew him. He's probably used a dozen more. If you don't believe me, go back to the house and quiz the other girls. They'll tell you the same. He's a heist man. He boasted about having pulled some big capers."
I turned her loose. "All right."
"Can I go now?"
"Take off," I said.
Trudy looked back when she reached the stairway.
"He beat her to death?"
"Yeah," I said. My voice was hoarse.
I found the cheap lock on the apartment door easy to spring. The rooms were vacant and dust lay on the furniture. The last occupant had been gone for quite a while. I glanced around me disgustedly. I had hoped for more.
Company was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. I tried not to show my surprise when I saw her.
"What you said put me to thinking," Trudy said.
"Did it?"
"About the girl, I mean. Was she your girl?"
"No," I said. "But she didn't deserve to die that way."
"I can't tell you any more about Moose than I already have. But I can give you another name. Are you clued in on the way heist men operate? If they have a big caper lined up and they need money to make the arrangements, they go to someone in the Mob or to a guy who finances heists for a cut of the loot. There's a man named Haskell in L.A. He's loaded with dough and lives like a solid citizen, but I heard Moose boast that he put up the money for some heists."
"Thanks, Trudy."
"Forget it. And I mean just that. Forget I told you."
The sign on Haskell's door said he was in real estate. The thick carpeting in the outer office indicated he made money at it, or at his moonlighting. His voluptuous secretary gave me a smile that was all teeth and no sincerity and told me Mr. Haskell saw no one without an appointment.
"How does one get an appointment?"
She showed her teeth again. She should have been advertising toothpaste. "If one doesn't know Mr. Haskell, one rarely does."
"I know Edward Jones," I said. "Will that do?"
She
"Thanks," I said as I walked to the door. "You can keep the bribe."
I waited outside the house for three hours, slumped down in the car seat and trying to look inconspicuous. I was about ready to flunk myself on character analysis when Trudy finally appeared and flagged a taxi.
Carter, I thought, it's a good thing you aren't a trusting soul.
I took off behind the cab, which led me across town to a cheap apartment house. I followed Trudy inside in time to spot her darting up a flight of stairs. At the end of a long hallway, the busty blonde knocked on a door. When she got no reply, she knocked harder. Then she turned and saw me and her eyes widened in astonishment.
"Your story didn't have the ring of truth," I told her, "but I got my money's worth. You led me here."
"Clever as hell, aren't you?" she spat.
I tried the door. "Apparently Moose isn't home. What do you suggest we do about that?"
She ran for the next flight of stairs. I pursued her to the roof and cornered her. She fought and scratched my face, tried to knee me in the groin, and called me some names I hadn't heard in years. Considering my widely varied travels, that was saying quite a lot for her vocabulary.
I pulled her wrists behind her and forced her over to the edge of the roof. "Now let's hear the truth about Moose."
"You won't push me off. He would, but you won't."
"Don't count on it, Trudy. Moose killed a friend of mine and beat a girl to death. I'm going to find him and I don't care what I have to do along the way."
She was panting. "Is that true, about the girl? Are you on the level?"
"The girl's name was Sheila. Did you ever hear Moose mention her?"
"Never. And I haven't seen him lately. He lived in that apartment when I knew him. I thought he'd like to know you were looking for him. That's the only reason I came. I swear it is."
"Does he call himself Edward Jones, or did you make that up?"
"He used the name when I knew him. He's probably used a dozen more. If you don't believe me, go back to the house and quiz the other girls. They'll tell you the same. He's a heist man. He boasted about having pulled some big capers."
I turned her loose. "All right."
"Can I go now?"
"Take off," I said.
Trudy looked back when she reached the stairway.
"He beat her to death?"
"Yeah," I said. My voice was hoarse.
I found the cheap lock on the apartment door easy to spring. The rooms were vacant and dust lay on the furniture. The last occupant had been gone for quite a while. I glanced around me disgustedly. I had hoped for more.
Company was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. I tried not to show my surprise when I saw her.
"What you said put me to thinking," Trudy said.
"Did it?"
"About the girl, I mean. Was she your girl?"
"No," I said. "But she didn't deserve to die that way."
"I can't tell you any more about Moose than I already have. But I can give you another name. Are you clued in on the way heist men operate? If they have a big caper lined up and they need money to make the arrangements, they go to someone in the Mob or to a guy who finances heists for a cut of the loot. There's a man named Haskell in L.A. He's loaded with dough and lives like a solid citizen, but I heard Moose boast that he put up the money for some heists."
"Thanks, Trudy."
"Forget it. And I mean just that. Forget I told you."
The sign on Haskell's door said he was in real estate. The thick carpeting in the outer office indicated he made money at it, or at his moonlighting. His voluptuous secretary gave me a smile that was all teeth and no sincerity and told me Mr. Haskell saw no one without an appointment.
"How does one get an appointment?"
She showed her teeth again. She should have been advertising toothpaste. "If one doesn't know Mr. Haskell, one rarely does."
"I know Edward Jones," I said. "Will that do?"
She
Similar Books
The Hero Strikes Back
Moira J. Moore
Days of Love and Blood
R.S. Carter
Domination
Lyra Byrnes
Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3
Melissa Scott
Recoil
Brian Garfield
As Night Falls
Jenny Milchman
Steamy Sisters
Jennifer Kitt
Full Circle
Connie Monk
Forgotten Alpha
Joanna Wilson
Scars and Songs
Christine Zolendz, Frankie Sutton, Okaycreations