Free First Murder by Fred Limberg

fingerprints taken at the scene. I assume you’ve been to the house before.”
    “Many times.”
    “They’re for comparison. It’ll save a lot of time. Have you ever been fingerprinted, Lakisha?” She looked down at her lap, embarrassed. She nodded.
    “Fingerprints come to our database from many sources. Armed services, some are given voluntarily, government work…” Ray was trying to shield her from something, Tony sensed.
    “Criminal records,” she said, her voice low, the tone resigned.
    “Yes, those too.”
    “Your
system
already has my fingerprints, Rayford. It was years ago. Many years.”
    Ray picked up on her sadness, sensed some sort of defeat in her attitude and tried to give her an out. “The time saving, Lakisha, comes about in that we don’t have to search any of the databases if we give the evidence techs a comparison card. We don’t even have to look. If you would rather not that’s okay too.”
    She sighed and held her right hand out to Ray. Tony passed the ink pad and card over. It seemed to him that Ray took a long time and was very gentle in guiding the woman’s long fingers over the pad and card. He saw them looking in each other’s eyes a couple of times. Then Ray took out his handkerchief and gave it to her so she could wipe the ink off her hands.
    “Thank you,” she said. Ray passed the pad back to Tony and slipped the card into his jacket pocket.
    “I think that’s all the questions I have for now.” Ray stood, offered a hand as Lakisha rose as well. Tony, ignored once again, realized he was on his own. In a tense and awkward silence she led them to the foyer. She was still worrying her stained fingers with Ray’s handkerchief when she turned at the door.
    “I know now. I know where I’ve seen you.” Ray looked down at the floor. “It was just last month, at the Dakota.”
    The Dakota?
That’s a serious jazz club in Minneapolis, Tony knew, and very upscale. He had never been there. His tastes ran more to Rock and R and B. He cocked an eyebrow at the ever surprising Ray Bankston.
    “You were singing with Booker T and the band.”
    Booker T and the MG’s?
Motown?
    “I’ve known Duck and Steve a long time. They were just being polite.”
    “You were good.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You have to let me know when you’re performing again. I’d like to come.”
    “I, ah…don’t perform much anymore. It’s not a regular thing.”
    “Pity. I’d like to see you again.” She noticed the hint of a smile on Tony’s face. “See you sing again.”
    “I’ll try to remember to let you know. We may have more questions in the future.”
    “Anything I can do to help. Please, call me.” She opened the door and tried to return Ray’s handkerchief.
    As they walked to the car Tony turned to Ray. “Booker T and the MG’s?”
    Ray wouldn’t look at him and kept walking.
    “Duck and Steve?” They both got in the car, Ray behind the wheel. “You know Duck Dunn and Steve Cropper?” Ray remained silent as they drove down the long driveway and turned onto the twisting narrow road.
    After a time, Ray cleared his throat. “What did you think of her?”
    Tony couldn’t resist. He tried, but it was a big hanging slider. “What did
you
think of her? You
dawg
.”
    Ray turned to look at Tony. He had a frown on and had a tight grip on the wheel. “Keep your mind on the case.”
    “You keep
your
mind on the case. I took lots of notes.”
    “Good.” They drove on in silence for a minute. The frown dissolved into a half-smile. “I sort of forgot.”
    “I noticed.” They drove on, trying not to get lost in the maze of curling roads around the lake.
    Ray cleared his throat again. “I did some backup work for Smokey some years ago.”
    “Smokey Robinson?” Ray just nodded. “Man. Sue Ellen told me you sang some but…man.”
    “No big thing. How long have you been seeing my niece?” Ray asked as they turned onto the interstate.
    “Not long.”
One night. Jesus…last