The Hell Yo - lanyon Josh (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

“Angus had been getting threatening phone calls for a week or so. He’d mentioned

having problems with former friends. He didn’t go into a lot of details, and I admit I didn’t

pay close attention. I didn’t take it seriously at first, but he got more and more…rattled.”

Either Best had already heard this, or he wasn’t interested in back story. “A ‘Christmas

bonus,’ you told him, although you had never given him a Christmas bonus before.”

“He didn’t work for me last Christmas.”

“You never gave him any kind of bonus.”

I didn’t bother to answer that.

“Eight hundred dollars is a nice chunk of change. You’re that successful?”

I wasn’t unsuccessful, but I ordinarily wouldn’t have doled out that kind of cash. Not

that I was the cheapskate Jake had on occasion suggested, but I didn’t throw money around.

I’d never given Angus any kind of raise after I’d made him a permanent employee, so I’d

figured it evened out. He couldn’t have gone far on two hundred bucks, and I had wanted

him out from underfoot. I had blithely thought I would drop a word in the right ear, and the

whole mess would blow over. Well, I’d been wrong – not for the first time.

How did I explain all that to Joe Friday?

He didn’t wait for me to explain, apparently believing he had scored with his last

question.

“How well do you know the detective who discovered the body?”

“Jake Riordan,” his partner put in suddenly.

I thought, here it comes. Meanwhile, the entire damn neighborhood knows we’re

sleeping together. I said noncommittally, “I know him.”

“You’re friends, right?”

“We’re friends,” I said.

“Good friends? You’re gay, right?”

I said steadily, “Jake disapproves of my lifestyle. But we’re friendly.”

Best gave a kind of chuckle. “In fact, you see each other a couple of times a week. You

vacationed together last spring in the High Sierras, right?”

I felt the pulse beating hard in my throat and hoped it wasn’t visible. I had it on

authority that when I got nervous, it showed. That’s the downside of being a normally

honest person.

“Not exactly. I ran into trouble up there. Jake helped me out. I’m not following what

this has to do with Angus.”

“Well, you never know what’s going to prove useful,” Best informed me, reminding me

of what Gabe Savant had said shortly before he disappeared on his “stress break.” “Sometimes

the least likely lead turns out to be the key to the entire case.”

“What made you call Riordan?” Vidal Sassoon chimed in. “Gordon asked you to pick up

his mail, didn’t he?”

“Jake wanted –”

“Jake?” repeated Best.

I slapped my forehead. “Damn, you caught me!” I gave him a disgusted look. “Didn’t I

already confess to being friends?” It wasn’t a great idea to get shirty with these two, but I was

starting to lose my temper despite my good intentions.

“Touchy, touchy,” Best murmured, making a note. Several notes – which I guessed was

supposed to worry me. The other flatfoot snickered. “You were saying?” Best inquired of me

with ultra politeness.

Apparently both sides had decided I was going to be a hostile witness.

I said, “Jake wanted to talk to Angus about a couple of unsolved murders that he

believed might be tied to the Satanic underground. He thought Angus might have heard or

seen something, since he was apparently on the edge of that scene. Beyond that you’d have

to talk to Jake.”

“Oh, we intend to,” Best informed me.

* * * * *

I let the investigators out, locked the doors, went upstairs to call Jake on my cell phone.

He picked up on the third ring.

I said, “Can you talk?”

“No.”

“Call me when you can.”

“Fifteen minutes.” He rang off.

Thirteen minutes later my cell rang.

I didn’t waste time on chitchat. “I just had a visit from a pair of legal investigators

working for Martin Grosser. I could be wrong, but the impression I get is that Angus’s

defense is going to throw a lot of mud in a lot of different directions in hopes of establishing

reasonable doubt.”

“Translation?”

“They show undue interest in our…us.”

Silence.

He had to have realized that was a danger. I said, “Angus has told them that you’re over

here a couple of times a week. He also told them about last spring.”

“How would Angus know about last spring?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said impatiently. “If you’ll remember, you asked him where I’d

gone when I left town. For another, I probably mentioned some of what happened up there.”

I felt a sudden rush of resentment. “I don’t advertise my personal life, but I’m not used to

conducting it like an undercover operation either.”

Jake ignored my outburst. “His defense will end up subpoenaing your phone records.

They’ll need them to support the argument that Angus didn’t have time to kill Kinsey and

still get back in time to call you.”

We hadn’t talked that much on the phone, especially not in recent weeks. A lot of the

time we used cell phones. I didn’t think Jake’s number would raise any flags, unless someone

probed for a connection. Unfortunately that appeared to be the case. I wondered where he

was calling from now. A pay phone?

I reflected that none of this would be a problem – let alone a threat – if Jake wasn’t

paranoid about our relationship. His fear of discovery was turning something innocent into a

weapon that could be used to destroy either of us.

When I didn’t answer, he asked, “What did you tell them?”

“I told them we were friends. I lied. That’s what you want, right?”

“It’s no one’s business but our own.”

I agreed with him there. I sighed. “Where are they going with this? Am I going to end

up testifying about our relationship? Am I supposed to commit perjury? Is that what you’re

expecting?”

He didn’t respond.

“Swell,” I said. I disconnected.

* * * * *

Once, when he was in an uncharacteristically indulgent mood, Jake told me I had that

peculiar blend of attitude and ability that makes a good detective, namely, I was curious,

analytical, and persistent. I liked people. I was a good listener. I was – though this pained