Free Slow Burn by Terrence McCauley Page A

twenty-three years.”
    “Long time,” I said. “Bet you’ve seen a lot.”
    “I have. Some good. Some not so good. These past few days have been the worst of it, I’m afraid.”
    I could tell that Soames wasn’t the type who said more than he had to. Not even a nod. I knew he was feeling me out, but time was short. I decided to prod him a little. “Mr. and Mrs. Van Dorn are understandably preoccupied, so I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me in the meantime.”
    “Oh?” His eyes narrowed just a bit. “What kind of questions?”
    “Questions that might help me run down who’s behind all of this.”
    “Such as?”
    I decided to start with the basics. “For instance, I was wondering if you’ve hired any new help recently?”
    He thought for a moment, then: “Yes. Our newest employee is the cook.”
    I pulled out my notebook and began writing things down. “When did you hire her?”
    “It’s a he, actually,” Soames said. “And I hired him about fifteen years ago.” A small smile and a tilt of his head. “He seems to be working out fine, but only time will tell.”
    I smiled, too, as I lowered my notebook. “You’re not going to help me, are you, Soames?”
    His smile disappeared. “I don’t see why I should. I’m sure you want to be helpful, Detective. Just like all of those nice policemen who used to bring young Master Van Dorn home all those drunken nights. Irish policemen, just like you, with their affable smiles and their hands out. A greased paw makes for a shut mouth, as they say. I’m sure you’ll have your hand out, too, before all of this is said and done. One way or the other.” Soames sipped his tea. “Yes, you look the type.”
    I couldn’t afford to waste time sparring with him. I could see he was itching for an argument, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d been through a couple of days of hell and had probably taken shit from the Van Dorns for two days running. Now it was someone else’s turn. But I couldn’t back down to him, either. He was my best chance at getting a lead on Jack Van Dorn and who might’ve taken him. Charm hadn’t worked, so I tried a more direct approach.
    “You know, once my partner calls this in, there’s going to be a hell of a lot of people through here. Lots of cops, federal types. Probably a couple of politicians thrown in for good measure.”
    Soames sipped some more at his tea. “We’ll manage.”
    “And not one of them will give a damn about Jack or Jessica. They’ll be too busy trying to impress the Chief and the mayor. And the Chief and the mayor will be too busy impressing Mr. and Mrs. Van Dorn. Or, should I say, Mr. and Mrs. Van Dorn’s money. Finding the people who killed Jessica… and who took Jack?” I shook my head. “Details like that will be afterthoughts at best. A means to an end, and that’s all.”
    Soames sneered up at me. “And I suppose you’re different. You’re here out of — what? Duty? Redemption?” He laughed a sharp, hard laugh. “Or perhaps you’re like that whore with the heart of gold they write about in all those dime store detective magazines?”
    “Maybe,” I shrugged, “but one thing’s for sure. My partner and I are the best shot this family has at getting Jack back alive. Because once the brass gets involved, it’ll get political. You’ve been around long enough to know what that means.”
    The look on Soames’ face told me he did. “We’ve got an hour at most before my partner and I have to fill in our bosses on what’s happened here. Every minute I stand here kissing your ass is one minute longer Jack stays missing and Jessica’s killers run free. So like it or not, I’m the best shot you’ve got at bringing your Jackie Boy home alive.”
    Soames’ back stiffened, then slumped just as quickly. He didn’t like it, but he knew I was right. Pushing his cup away, some tea sloshed over the edges into the saucer. “What would you like to know?”
    I opened my notebook again.