Free Sinister Heights by Loren D. Estleman Page A

away the fugitive pill and sat on the arm of the sofa. The part with the cushions looked like a maneater and I wasn’t sure he’d smoldered out. There was always the chance he’d flare up again without warning. I stayed in starting position.
    â€œThat’s better,” he said, sounding dreamy enough. “Jesus.”
    â€œI don’t think He’s in to you. God knows you paged Him enough.”
    He ran fingers through his spiky hair without visible effect, scowled, and studied the lay between his chair and the sofa. It must have looked like the center span of the Mackinac Bridge, because he settled back with a heavy sigh. He was as hard to read as a stop sign.
    â€œSo your name’s Walker and you’re a private eye.”
    â€œThat’s right,” I snarled. “A dick. A sleuth. A peeper. A lone star, a plastic badge, heat on a stick. Alternative law.” I stopped, not because I’d run out of euphemisms, but because I thought he might have the idea by now. I looked at my watch. I don’t know why, except it seemed a long time since I’d been outside. They might have finished I-75 and started planting trees.
    â€œYou working for Constance’s lawyer?”
    â€œWhy would Constance have a lawyer?” When he didn’t react I said, “So you’ve split up. Mind telling me where she went?”
    â€œIf I knew that, I’d go there and bring her back.”
    â€œShe take the boy?”
    He looked at me with what he thought was pity. His eyes might have been a pair of ice cubes melting in tomato soup. “Well now, what do you think? She’s a good mother. If she left little Matt with me he’d be picking pockets by now. That’s how she’d see it anyway.” He took a swig from the bottle and blasted a belch they heard in Kentucky.
    â€œWhen did she fly the coop?”
    â€œMay fifth. Cinco de Mayo . I know that because I stopped at a Mex place to celebrate on my way home. Happy Hour all day, that’s what I was celebrating. I don’t know what the Mexes were. Their green cards maybe.
    â€œWe had a fight when I got in around eleven,” he said. “I missed the end of it. I went to sleep in this chair. She and Matt were gone when I woke up. No note. I thought they’d be back when she cooled off. I guess she ain’t cooled off yet.”
    â€œShe didn’t go to her mother’s. I just came from there. What about a friend?”
    â€œShe don’t have any friends.”
    His fault, if Carla Witowski hadn’t just been blowing bubbles. I didn’t point it out. If this was going to work without breaking up the furniture, we had to be pals. I can make a Cape buffalo curl up in my lap when I have to. It’s on the license application.
    I was getting the drift of what had gone on in that house, but it was something I would have to sneak up on.
    While I was thinking about it he rubbed his free hand over his face. The caffeine was kicking in. The cobwebs came away with the hand. “You said something about an inheritance. What’s the deal?”
    â€œFamily thing. We need her signature. I hear you’re a union rep.”
    The zoo air in the room was getting to me. I should have opened a window. But the ham-handed attempt at a change of subject worked. He got lively.
    â€œI’m just a shop steward, but I’m a good one. Guess you wouldn’t know it to look at me at the moment. I don’t drink behind the wheel and you don’t have to be careful about lighting a match around me when I’m shut up with management. The boys want me to run for president of the local.”
    â€œUphill climb. These days they like college diplomas.”
    â€œOSU offers a night-school course on contract law. I guess I can pick up enough Latin to pass. Anyway the college crowd is what got us in the ditch we’re in, so I figure the pendulum’s swinging my way. You boys got