For Want of a Memory Page 20

  Which was why, when he was questioned, Moe insisted that he'd bought the gun after the money courier had been killed, and that he'd bought it cheap from a guy who was missing his trigger finger. He swore that was all he knew. Harper got a description of the man with the missing finger, and where the deal had taken place, but could get nothing further.

  When Harper and Jefferson both reviewed the homicide case, it was apparent that whoever had pulled that job had planned it down to the slightest detail, catching the courier at the single weak point in his route. When he'd been found dead in his car, shot in the back of the head, the detectives had found a half eaten sandwich on the seat beside him. It had been traced by the wrapper back to a hot dog stand, which, according to his employer, he had not been authorized to stop at. The statement of the hot dog vendor, however, said that the man was a regular and parked in a no parking zone while he got his Polish with kraut and mustard, every day. It was the hypothesis of the detective that someone had entered the car while the courier was getting his meal and hid until the courier left.

  Both men agreed that none of the Higginbothams had the intelligence to plan a caper like that. And Moe's lawyer had pointed out that there was no evidence that the Higginbothams had lived beyond their usual means or style in the weeks after the killing.

  "It's a wash," said Jefferson. "It was a good idea, though. Looks like it's your case after all." He smiled. "All you have to do is find a guy who's missing his trigger finger." He laughed. "That should be a piece of cake for a hard charger like you, Harper. Just line up everybody in New York City and look at their hands."

  "Yeah, all eight million of them," said Harper, unamused.

  "Only half that," laughed Jefferson. "You don't have to look at the women."

  * * *

  Mitch Connel had had no opportunity to question Kris further that morning in the diner. He reviewed what he had learned. Lulu seemed to be interested in the man, and Kris had seen something interesting involving Jessica Dauphine that she didn't want anyone else to know about. By the time Jessica's breakfast had been brought to the booth, Kris had finished and gotten up to leave. Mitch had watched as Kris went to the cash register and waited for Lulu to come take his money. The smile she gave him cemented in Mitch's mind that Kris had somehow found a chink in her armor.

  So, being a curious man by nature and being paid to be suspicious, Mitch simply made it his business to see where Kris went in his daily routine. It didn't take long to learn that he almost always ate at The Early Girl when his shift at the radio station was over. He also had a habit of going to Lulu's house three or four hours before they both went to work. He had a burning curiosity about what went on in that little house, but he didn't succumb to the temptation to do a little spying. Part of that was because there was snow on the ground and his footprints would be left there for all the world to see. Another problem was that he didn't want to park his car along the street while he snooped. His surveillance was being done on his own time, since he was currently working days. It was a small town and people knew what his car looked like. They'd just naturally ask questions if it was seen parked somewhere in that neighborhood.

  As a result, he decided to eat breakfast at The Early Girl each morning as well, at least until he got a handle on what was going on. His curiosity was mixed. Kris was still a big question mark, officially, and Mitch liked Lulu. While he had no real reason to believe that Kris was dangerous, it was easy to rationalize his curiosity by telling himself he was looking out for her welfare.

  It was the fourth time he sat down across from Kris in a booth at the diner that Kris put down his fork and stared at the policeman.

  "Are you following me or something?"

  "Why would you ask that?" Mitch responded innocently.

  "Because I'm not buying that you just like my company," said Kris.

  "And why wouldn't I? You're a fresh face. You've been around, even if you can't remember it. Maybe I'm just trying to help you get your memory back."

  "What are you doing here again?" asked Lou Anne as she came up to the table. She put a coffee cup down in front of Mitch and filled it.

  "I have to have some special reason to eat in your fine establishment?" Mitch used his overly innocent voice again. "Just bring me my usual, please and thank you."

  "And why do you always sit with Kris?" she asked, standing there. "I thought you closed his case or whatever you call it."

  "He's an interesting guy," said Mitch. "New faces are hard to come by in this town."

  "Don't harass him, Mitch," warned Lou Anne. "He's writing a book and it's going to be a good one. He needs to concentrate on that, not be all nervous because Barney Fife won't leave him alone."

  "So I hear," said Mitch, responding to the first part of her comment and ignoring the last part. "I'm interested in this book, too. I've never met an author or heard how one goes about writing a book. It's really quite fascinating."

  Lou Anne stared at him for a few seconds longer. "You're up to something, Mitch Connel. I know you are. I've got my eye on you, buster."

  "Isn't that supposed to be my line?" asked Mitch, sounding injured. "Isn't it possible I just want to be his friend?"

  "No, it's not," said Lou Anne firmly. "And don't pretend you are. I know you and I know you don't cozy up to anybody without a reason."

  "Not even Carla?" Mitch grinned.

  "I know why you cozy up to Carla," said Lou Anne, her voice tight. "And she does too. Why she puts up with you is beyond me."

  "'Cause I'm a prince of a fellow," said Mitch, grinning. "And a good lover, too. If you weren't so picky ... "

  Mitch closed his mouth suddenly. It might have had to do with the look that was coming onto Lou Anne's face.

  "What would happen if I weren't so picky, Mitch?" she asked, her voice sweet and syrupy.

  "Nothing," said Mitch, his voice businesslike. "Nothing at all, Lulu. I'm just here for breakfast."

  "You just keep it that way," said the waitress. "You said your usual, right?"

  "Yes Ma'am," said Mitch, folding his hands in his lap.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "What was that all about?" asked Kris, when Lou Anne had left.

  "What was what all about?" asked Mitch, looking over his shoulder at Lou Anne.

  "One minute you're all balls and testosterone and the next minute you're as meek as a lamb."

  "I know how she can get when she's pissed off," said Mitch. "You should have figured that out by now, too, as much time as you're spending around her."

  "And how much time is that?" asked Kris. "You are following me ... aren't you."

  "I'm paid to keep an eye on things," said Mitch, a bit uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it. It's so boring in this town that I have to come up with little exercises to keep myself sharp. I bear you no ill will. You have my word on that."

  "Until you find some reason to think I'm a crook," said Kris.

  "Well, of course," said Mitch, tossing a hand toward the ceiling. "Even then, though, I won't wish you ill. Lots of people make mistakes and get into trouble. Not all of them are a danger to society."

  "What about that being my friend crap?" asked Kris.

  "Who says it's crap?" asked Mitch. "Is there any reason we can't be friends?"

  "Friends don't arrest friends," said Kris.

  "That's a crock," said Mitch, reaching for the sugar. "I've had to arrest some of my friends before. Just because I arrest them doesn't mean we can't be friends."

  "Sounds complicated to me," said Kris.

  "Well it's not. You screw up, you pay the piper. That doesn't mean I have to hate you. You are an interesting guy and I hope you do get your memory back. If there's a problem in your past, then we'll both just have to deal with that. Until then, why can't we be civil to each other?"

  "And keeping an eye on me is being civil," snorted Kris.

  "I'm here ... right across from you," said Mitch. "You can ask me any questions you want to. If I can answer them I will."<
br />
  "In exchange for what?" asked Kris, his voice guarded.

  "Like I said. You're interesting. You've been around. Who knows what you'll remember, but I bet most of it will be interesting. You know I'm not the only person keeping an eye on you, don't you?"

  "You're not?" Kris looked puzzled.

  "The preacher and about half his flock," said Mitch. "Anywhere you are, other than work, one of them is likely to be, doing this or that. I think they're getting bored, though. They don't find you half as interesting as I do."

  "You're kidding," said Kris, looking around. The first person he saw was Butch Flannery, who had loaned him the car. He was sitting with two other men who looked familiar. Butch nodded to him and smiled, as if it were a chance meeting. He looked back at Mitch. "You're not kidding," he said, his voice hushed.

  "Like I said, they were a lot more interested in you a couple of weeks ago than they are now. If you'd had some odd visitors, or gone off to do strange and mysterious things, they might have gotten fired up. But the truth of the matter is, Kris, that you just act like any normal guy. You got a job. You're working on a book, which people expect an author to do. You shop here in town. You haven't gotten any deliveries from Fed Ex or any of those boys. You, my friend, are just Joe Average."

  "Damn, you know a lot about me," said Kris. "Have you found out anything from my past?"

  "If I do, I'll ask you about it," said Mitch. "And, just so you don't feel like you're under a microscope, I don't know all that because I've had you under surveillance. I know all the guys whose delivery schedules bring them here and I know most of your neighbors. They like you, by the way."

  "Why?" asked Kris. He hadn't talked to any of his neighbors yet.

  "You're quiet," said Mitch. "People like things quiet around here."

  There was a pause in the conversation as Lou Anne served Mitch and refilled Kris' coffee cup. She didn't say a word to either man. It gave Kris time to take a few more bites and think, while Mitch dug into his breakfast. He hadn't been around long and he had nothing to go on, but he trusted Lulu's instincts. If she was suspicious of Mitch Connel, then she probably had reason to be. He looked up at the man.

  "What do you want to know?" he asked.

  "Pardon?"

  "I think Lulu's right. You're cozying up to me for some reason. Okay. Fine. I've got nothing to hide. What do you want to know?"

  "We can't just be friends?" asked Mitch, around a mouthful of eggs.

  "Maybe," said Kris. "After I've answered your questions, I figure I'll find out. You may just lose interest in me once I've told you everything I know."

  "I am wounded," said Mitch, somewhat theatrically. "But I understand. I might feel the same way if I were in your shoes. So, just to satisfy you, I'll ask you all kinds of questions and then maybe we can get on with the budding friendship. How's that?"

  "You're a slick one, Officer Connel," said Kris, squinting his eyes. "You're pretty good at your job ... aren't you."

  "They haven't fired me yet," said Mitch, smiling.

  Kris sat for a while longer. "Okay, shoot," he said.

  Without pause for thought, Mitch asked the first question. "You're hiding something from me. I'd like to know what that is."

  Kris lost his appetite. He put his fork down. How did the man know? Was he really that good at his job? At the same time, he was tired of worrying about that single memory of the man, the crunch of metal, and the scream he'd heard. Still, there was obvious danger in talking about that, as much as he wished he knew the rest of what had happened.

  "If I tell you that, I might be in trouble," he finally said. "Something happened and I remember part of it, but not all of it. I don't know when it happened or where it happened, but it's the kind of thing the law frowns on."

  Mitch heard in Kris' voice what he'd heard in countless other voices. The average person, who uses bad judgment or succumbs to temptation, or is just in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets into trouble because of it, usually wants things to come out into the open. Their conscience bothers them. They're not criminals, at least not in the classic sense. And, more often than not, they aren't a danger to society. They feel remorse and that is the best defense against a repetition of the behavior, whatever it is. Sometimes it was better to have the information than it was to prosecute the offense.

  "You might notice that I haven't advised you of your legal rights," said Mitch.

  "We had this discussion, already," said Kris.

  "How about you trust me to tell you when you're getting in too deep," suggested Mitch.

  "I'd be insane to do that," said Kris. "You're a cop!"

  "I'm an honest cop," said Mitch. "That's the difference." He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "All I can say is that I'll try not to put you in a bind."

  Kris thought about that. Could he trust this man? It would be good to get that memory off his chest.

  "I'll think about it," he said. "That's all I can say for now."

  "Sounds fair," said Mitch. "Now, let me ask you about something else."

  "What?" asked Kris.

  "What is it that Jessica doesn't want you to talk about?"

  "Jessica?"

  "The other day. She wanted to make sure you wouldn't tell anybody what you saw."

  "Oh, that," said Kris. "I told her I wouldn't tell anyone. You were there. You should remember that."

  "Of course I remember it," said Mitch. "But I want to know anyway."

  "I can't tell you that," said Kris. "I promised."

  "She didn't break the law or anything ... did she?"

  "Of course not. It was just a stupid party." Kris was suddenly disgusted with himself for divulging that little fact.

  "A party ... " Mitch leaned forward. "A party you were invited to?"

  "No, I was just watching Ambrose, while they had this party," said Kris. "Why do you want me to break a promise?"

  "I don't want you to break a promise," said Mitch. "I'm just naturally curious, that's all. And now you don't have to break your promise. I know exactly what party you're talking about."

  "Oh you do, do you?" said Kris, sounding skeptical.

  "Yup. It has to be the one Alice Zucker was at over at Lou Anne's place."

  "How do you know that?" asked Kris. "Not that I'm saying she was there. I don't know anyone named Alice Zucker."

  "Of course not, but I heard Phil, her husband, talking about something she bought at that party. He said it was the best fifty bucks he ever spent. I got the impression she got something slinky to wear in the bedroom."

  "Do you spy on everybody?" Kris' voice rose.

  "Not so much," said Mitch, grinning. "I just listen. People talk and you can pick up a lot of information if they talk loud enough." He took another bite and spoke again after swallowing. "So it was a lingerie party?"

  "You already know it was," said Kris.

  "And how is it that you ended up getting to see something?"

  "You don't give up, do you?" suggested Kris.

  "As long as you don't tell me whatever it is that Jessica is so worked up about, you haven't broken your promise, now have you? But that doesn't mean you can't talk about the rest of it."

  "Damn I hope you never come after me for real," sighed Kris. "You're like a bulldog."

  "Arf, arf," said Mitch. "What was it? G-strings and bras with holes in them, maybe?"

  "Of course not," said Kris. "It covered everything." He slapped a hand over his mouth.

  "Well then why is she so determined to keep it a secret?" asked Mitch.

  "I'm not saying another word," said Kris, uncovering his mouth. "I remembered some other things about Australia. You want to hear about that?"

  "Sure," said Mitch easily. He leaned back. "Australia sounds interesting."

  * * *

  If Kris thought that Lou Anne hadn't noticed Mitch grilling him, he was mistaken. When he got to her house that night, she met him dressed in a black T shirt with a grinning white skull on the front. He almost
choked as he realized that the burning balls that represented the eyes were positioned precisely over her obviously braless nipples, which made those burning balls jut out from the grisly face. Black vinyl pants covered her legs and she was wearing Doc Martins that had a leopard print on them. She looked thoroughly dangerous.

  "Hi," she said, her voice so cheerful that he couldn't rationalize it as coming from a woman who looked like she was some biker's mol. "So, what was Mitch trying to get out of you this morning?"