Free Camouflage (Nameless Detective Mysteries) by Bill Pronzini Page A

other incidents, then?”
    “Oh yes. None as bad as the boiling water, but bad enough. Just fly into a rage for no good reason. One time in bed she … never mind the details. It was the only time I ever hit her, slapped her, and she scratched the hell out of me in return. Lord, I wish I’d never laid eyes on her. Those were the worst five months of my life.”
    “Would you be willing to repeat what you’ve just told me, Mr. Dinowski?”
    “Repeat it? To whom?”
    “Her fiancé, the father of the little boy I told you about.”
    “To stop Francine from marrying him, is that it?”
    Runyon said, “There’s a chance she may have been taking out her aggressions on the boy.”
    “Christ. Hurting him, you mean?”
    “He has a fractured arm and multiple bruises.”
    “A nine-year-old kid? Well, I’m not really surprised. I told you she was crazy, totally out of control.”
    “Can I count on your cooperation, then?”
    “Cooperation?” Dinowski hesitated. Wary thoughts had come into his head; Runyon could tell by his body language and the sudden altered state of his expression. “I don’t know. If I step into this, spoil her plans, she’s liable to come after me again. I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
    “You’d be saving the boy a lot more grief.”
    “Or causing him more. She could take it out on him, too, you know. This man she’s marrying … who is he? Somebody important? Somebody with money, I’ll bet. Francine loves money.”
    “He’s a family law attorney.”
    “A lawyer? Wait a minute, now. I can’t afford to get involved with lawyers. My position here at the bank, my finances … a lawsuit would ruin me … no. No, I don’t think I’d better get involved.”
    “Think about the boy, Mr. Dinowski—”
    “No, I’m sorry. No. I’d like to help, but it’s not my problem; she’s not my problem anymore. I shouldn’t have said anything to you in the first place.” He drummed blunt, nervous fingers on the desktop. “You’re not going to repeat it to this lawyer, are you? Without my permission?”
    “Not without permission, no.”
    “Well, good, I appreciate that. I wouldn’t want it to get back to Francine. As crazy as she is, there’s no telling what she might do. You understand, don’t you? I hope you find some other way to stop her from marrying the lawyer, hurting the boy anymore, I really do—”
    Runyon was on his feet by then and moving toward the door. He left without giving Kevin Dinowski another glance or another word.
    *   *   *
    Francine Whalen’s ex-roommate, Charlene Kepler, still lived in the same apartment on Broderick Street in Laurel Heights. Runyon drove out California Street from downtown, but he didn’t go directly to the Broderick address. It was not quite five o’clock, and Charlene Kepler wasn’t likely to be home yet; she worked for an insurance company in the Transamerica building.
    He turned into the Laurel Heights shopping center. You could find a Chinese restaurant in just about any mall in the city, and this one was no exception. He’d eaten Chinese food five or six times a week after Colleen was gone; it had been her favorite and he’d used it as a way to maintain a connection to her and the life they’d shared together. He hadn’t felt the need as often since meeting Bryn, but it was what he was in the mood for tonight. Chinese restaurants were usually quiet and orderly, good places to think as well as eat.
    Over tea and a plate of kung pao chicken and fried rice, he went over his talk with Kevin Dinowski. As much as Dinowski seemed to hate Francine, he might’ve exaggerated the extent of her behavior, but that scar on his arm, assuming he’d gotten it the way he claimed he had, said otherwise. Further confirmation that Francine was violence prone and unstable. Capable of greater acts of violence than hurling a pot of boiling water, inflicting bruises, and breaking a little boy’s arm. Capable of killing someone, child or adult,