Bishop's Revenge (Davey Goldman Series Book 4) by Love William F

Author:Love, William F. [Love, William F.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2017-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

31

I managed to see tenants of six apartments but only two of the visits — three people seen in all — yielded anything helpful. But those three were extremely helpful. At least to Vosburg. They cleared him as effectively as I’ve ever seen three witnesses clear anyone.

It took about fourteen conversations over the intercom to get eight to agree to see me, of which I wound up visiting with six. The others didn’t want to talk or said they couldn’t help. When I told them I’d be the judge of whether or not they could help they mostly hung up on me.

Once I had eight people willing to let me come up, I started with Larry’s floor — the second. The first two people I talked to were a couple named Dinkins — no relation to the Mayor, they were quick to tell me. They knew Larry — golf pros seemed to be respected around this building — but they’d been gone the weekend in question, so couldn’t tell me a thing.

The next was a woman, Mrs. Browning. Also couldn’t tell me a thing. Two more know-nothings followed in quick succession. I was beginning to feel discouraged and decided to try to change my luck by going upstairs. A Keith Price on the third-floor had sounded the most encouraging on this intercom.

I’d given him my standard “I’m a friend of Mr. Vosburg in 2-H, and wonder if you’d take two minutes to talk to me.” For the rest of them, that was all it took — the ones that agreed to see me. They’d just invited me up. Keith had been different.

“What’s this all about, son?” Deep-throated Texas accent.

“I’m a detective trying to establish Larry’s whereabouts on the night of Sunday, March Twenty-fifth.”

His voice was suspicious. “And you say you’re a friend a’ his’n?”

“Yes sir. I was with him just now in his apartment. You can call the club and check with him. He’s in Mr. Littooy’s office right now.”

Price had chuckled “You got all the names and places right, anyways. Hail, come on up. I’ll give you a cold one.”

After striking out with my first four in a row on the second floor, I needed a break. Even if Price couldn’t help, getting “a cold one” out of the visit didn’t sound half-bad. I assumed 3H was the apartment right over Vosburg’s. It was.

I tapped on the door. It was promptly opened by a stout, middle-aged man in dyed hair, tinted glasses. T-shirt, blue jeans and loafers. He gave me a big smile. “Dave Goldman?” When I nodded he grabbed my hand and pumped it. “Keith Price! Any friend a’ Larry’s ’n’ all that. C’mon in!” He was from Texas all right.

“Set yourse’f,” he said, closing the door. “How about a cold one? I was jes’ fixin’ to git one fer m’se’f.” His head swiveled and he shouted through an open door. “Hey, Evvie!”

“Cold Pearl?” I said, remembering from past experiences that Pearl Beer tends to be big with Texans.

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