Liquid Smoke

FORTY-FIVE

Call it maturity. Call it good decision making. Call it whatever you want, but I’d come to the decision that no matter how badly I wanted Keene myself, I wouldn’t be able to do much with him. The smart course of action was to talk to Klimes and tell him what I’d learned.

It took a sandwich and two beers before arriving at that conclusion. Keene wasn’t going to be phased by any more threats I made. There wasn’t any guarantee that Klimes would help me out, but I thought he’d at least be honest with me about whether he could do anything.

Dispatch patched me through to his cell. “Klimes.” “Klimes, it’s Noah Braddock. Am I catching you at a bad time?” I heard paper crumple through the line. “Nope. Just finishing a shitty lunch. What’s up?”

“Remember that name I asked you to check? Keene?”

“Sure.”

“He’s your guy.” “On the dead girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

I started with what Simington told me at the prison, including Keene and the smuggling, and ended with Carter and Miranda’s door-to-door.

“We didn’t get anybody to give those IDs when we asked,” Klimes said, annoyed.

“What can I tell you? Tight-knit group down here. They know Carter. They don’t know you. And Zanella’s an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I suppose. Gonna need to talk to those folks your friends talked to, though.”

“Okay. I’ll make it work.”

“And I had Keene on my short list.”

“How’s that?”

“Son, you asked me to run a name and then gave me a bullshit story about it. I may be fat and ugly, but I’m not dumb. I did my own, more extensive check. I tied some loose ends together with him and Simington.”

“You talk to him?”

“Not yet. Elusive little fella.”

“You have an address?”

“A bad one. And if I had a good one, I wouldn’t give it to you. You’re a bit too close to all this, Noah.”

He was right. Having Keene’s address would probably be too much temptation for me.

“That’s fine. I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks. Get me the names of your neighbors. ASAP.”

I told him I would and hung up.

A cannon of thunder boomed outside. The thrashing ocean looked like a giant bathtub beneath the storm. It should have been a great time to hit the water.

Stupid rain.