Dead Float by Warren C Easley

Author:Warren C Easley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2014-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-nine

I called Hiram to get a ride home and waited outside the sheriff’s station, gulping in the fresh afternoon air to dilute Dorn’s secondhand smoke. Hiram rolled up in his Saab with Archie sitting upright in the backseat like he was being chauffeured. I hopped in, tousled the fur on Archie’s head, and said, “Want to show off your car in Portland?”

“Portland?”

“Right. Southeast. I’ve got some things to check out, and I could use some company.”

A squall blew in, and rain began to spatter us as we approached the I-5. We pulled over and put the top up. We’d been talking about my interrogation. As we got underway again, Hiram said, “So, they’re trying to cast you as the jealous lover. Can they make it stick?”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. What I heard today was mainly Escalante’s spin on what Alexis allegedly told them about me. She didn’t really give them anything incriminating, at least not yet. They were just fishing around to see if I would rise to the bait and make some kind of stupid mistake.”

“Cunning bastards.”

“Oh yeah. What I’m worried about now is how they might spin my interview to try to put the heat back on her. It’s pretty easy to escalate the mistrust in a situation like this.” I shook my head. “Been there, done that.”

Hiram chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’m sure you used similar tactics down in Los Angeles. The irony is rich. But, at least one of the detectives let you lay out your theory of the crime. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean I thought I saw a flicker in Escalante’s eyes when I asked him to think about it. But it was probably just wishful thinking. Dorn’s never going to agree to their looking seriously at anyone else but me. The guy’s a real head case.”

My friend shook his head. “I hope you’re not letting him provoke you. That’s exactly what he wants.”

“I know. You’re right. But the man has no right to carry a badge. Hell, he was ready to shoot Archie this morning. Arch had him pegged in a heartbeat. He knows an idiot when he sees one.”

“Indeed.”

We took the Sellwood Bridge across the Willamette. The river was high from the spring rains, a broad gray-green sheet ruffled by a stiff northerly breeze that buffeted the Saab. We took a left on Milwaukie, and parked a half block beyond the Knapp Street intersection. This put us in the middle of the Westmoreland neighborhood, a mostly blue-collar area in the early stages of gentrification, meaning there was at least one Starbucks and an artisanal pizza shop.

I left Hiram and Archie in the car to take a quick look around. A small market and a Thai carryout shared the northeast corner of the intersection where Barnes’ car had been abandoned. A used bookstore stood on the northwest corner. I tried the market first, then the carryout, but got nothing but blank looks to my questions.

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