Free Savages: A Nameless Detective Novel (Nameless Detective Novels) by Bill Pronzini Page A

hired hand. Can he prove where he was when that went down?”
    “He was with me.” Too quick again. A lie this time.
    “All day yesterday? Why didn’t he go home when he was supposed to?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Why can’t you?”
    “I just can’t.”
    “Let’s quit playing around. You think he should turn himself in. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here talking to me.”
    She made a snuffling sound, rubbed at her nose, her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t make Jerry do anything—he’s too scared.”
    “Neither can I, if that’s what you’re after.”
    “But maybe you—”
    What caused her to break off was the roar of engine exhaust as a car came fast-wheeling into the lot. It racketed down the aisle behind them, a low-slung yellow and black Trans Am; slowed, and then slid into the empty space close on Runyon’s side.
    Sandra said, “Oh shit.”
    The Trans Am’s driver, a girl about Sandra’s age, shut off the noise and managed to squeeze herself out of the car without her door scraping the Chrysler’s. Slender, with oversized breasts in a tight bra under a loose blouse; midnight dark hair flowing down silkily to the curve of tightdenimed buttocks. Her passenger was slower to emerge.He stood peering over the cartop, a lanky kid with a mop of caramel-colored hair.
    “Hey there,” the girl said to Sandra. “New boyfriend?”
    “Shut up, Ashley.”
    “No, he’s that detective, right? I can tell by the bandage. How’s your head?” she asked Runyon.
    “Sore.”
    “I’ll bet. I’ll bet if Jerry hit you any harder with that two-by-two, he’d’ve taken your head right off.”
    Runyon said nothing.
    “Jerry didn’t do it,” Sandra said, wearily this time. “Not that you care one way or the other.”
    “That’s right, I don’t.”
    Sandra looked over at the lanky kid. “Why do you let her drive your car, Zach? She’ll wreck it someday. She’s a menace.”
    “She likes to drive fast,” he said.
    “She won’t like if it her father catches her.”
    “Hah,” Ashley said. She tossed her head, putting the long hair into a dark swirl. Habitual gesture, from the way she did it, showing it off. “You look all blotchy and red eyed, Sandy. Does that mean they caught Jerry?”
    “You know they haven’t.”
    “But they will. I’ll bet it won’t take long.”
    “Why don’t you go squat on a sharp stick?”
    “Oo, nasty. You hear what she said, Zach?”
    “Yeah, I heard.”
    “You going to do anything about it?”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    Ashley laughed. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving. Bye, Detective. Bye, Sandy. Try not to cry too much tonight—your complexion’s not so good as it is.”
    The two of them went off, the girl trailing more laughter.
    Sandra said, “Kelso’s daughter. But I guess you figured that out.”
    He nodded. “And the mayor’s son.”
    “Yeah. She’s a bitch and he’s a wimp. He lets her lead him around by his dick.”
    “She doesn’t like Jerry much.”
    “Not anymore. She doesn’t like anybody much except herself.”
    “Okay. Now tell me what you want me to do about Jerry, straight out.” He put a hand on the doorknob. “Otherwise I’m leaving.”
    “No, don’t. Please.”
    He waited.
    “. . . Suppose I do know where he is,” she said.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Would you talk to him? If the right person . . . you know, somebody he could trust . . . I think that’s all it would take.”
    “Why me? What about his father?”
    “Jerry won’t talk to him.”
    “Why not?”
    “He’s afraid to. Afraid his dad won’t believe him.”
    “Does he know you came to see me?”
    “No, it was my idea.”
    “What makes you think he’ll talk to me, a stranger?”
    “Maybe he won’t. I don’t know. I’m just desperate, that’s all.” She drew a shaky breath. “He has to talk to
somebody
before it’s too late. He doesn’t have any reason to be afraid of you. And he knows you