Liquid Smoke

SEVENTEEN

I hung out on the boardwalk for an hour, moping and worrying. I watched cops go in and out of my place. Occasionally, one of them would glance in my direction and give me a hard look, a silent warning that he knew what I’d done to Zanella.

I tried to look scared.

Klimes came out when they appeared to be shutting down for the night.

“Gonna have to keep you out tonight,” he said, huffing and puffing. “Should be able to let you back in tomorrow, though.” “Can I get my hands on my laptop?”

“No can do. Still gotta dust it, and the tech boys will probably have a peek at the hard drive.” “You already cleared me.”

“Not about you. Whoever offed the girl might’ve used the computer.

“Think they checked their email before shooting her?” “Or did some shopping on eBay. Who knows?” “Come on.”

He grinned. “I’m a thorough son of a bitch, Noah.”

I didn’t like it, but Klimes was being a good cop.

He asked, “What do you need it for?”

“Just wanted to run a name.”

He motioned to the alley. “Come on.”

I followed him to a brown Crown Victoria. He opened the passenger door and waved me in. He went around to the driver’s side.

He squeezed in behind the wheel and pointed to the laptop mounted on the dash. “That work for you?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Guy named Landon Keene. Can you look him up on Google?”

“Don’t talk dirty to me,” he said, smiling and navigating on the computer. He hit a few buttons, then shifted the screen in my direction. “There you go.”

Two items popped up under the name. One was a high school football roster in Florida, listing Landon Keene as a sophomore lineman. The other had Landon Keene as a hairstylist in Alabama. I guessed that neither of those two was the Landon Keene who Russell Simington had told me about.

I swiveled the screen back to Klimes. “Thanks.”

“Anything you wanna tell me about?”

“No,” I said, not wanting to get into it. “Another thing I’m working on.”

Klimes pursed his lips. “Alright. Ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“This girl. Gill. Was she tough?”

I thought of her approaching me in the water and tailing me up the beach. “Seemed like it.”

He thought about that, focusing on something over my shoulder.

“What?” I asked.

“ME didn’t see any sign of a struggle,” he said. “You think she got surprised?”

He rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. “That or she knew the cocksucker who shot her. Waits for her to turn around in conversation, then whammo. Maybe knocks her out, then does her with the gun.”

“Somebody went to a lot of trouble, then,” I said. “Killing her like that and taking the time to bring her to my house.”

“Yep.” Klimes shifted in the seat, the vinyl screaming beneath him. “You were the only reason she came down here?”

“Far as I know. That’s what her paralegal said, too.”

“Mind another question?”

I shook my head.

“You think you’re gonna get your … this Simington off the row?”

I appreciated him not referring to him as my father, but it didn’t change anything.

“No. I think Darcy thought she could, though.”

“Doubtful,” he said, shaking his head. “Just doesn’t happen. So I’m glad you don’t have any wild ideas.” He looked at me. “And I hope that means you’ll stay out of the way.”

“She’s in my house, Klimes.”

“We’ll get her out,” he said, grinning. “I promise. But after that, I hope you’ll let us do what we are paid so shittily to do.” I laughed. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he said, then waved me out of the car. “Zanella’s gonna be here any second. Scoot.”

I got out and shut the door.

The window slid down, and Klimes leaned over, his rotund face looking up at me. “You owe me.” “How do you figure?”

He held up three fingers. “I let you use the computer, I gave you the ‘she didn’t struggle’ info, and I flattened you before Zanella could take your head off.”

“Woulda been hard for him to take my head off while he was sitting on his ass.”

He waggled a thick finger in front of me. “Whatever, son. You owe me. That Keene name rings a bell, I expect you to ring mine.”

Klimes was sharp. He hadn’t taken my bluff. I liked him. I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Deal,” I said, doing it anyway.