The Skin Game by Larry Kent

Author:Larry Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, detectives, private eyes, piccadilly publilshing, don haring, larry kent, crime fiction ebook, pornography business, the skin game
Publisher: Piccadilly

“You know,” Callison said, “I could charge you with breaking and entering.”

“I know,” I said.

We were in Callison’s office at Central Headquarters. Almost four hours had passed since Callison, Tarkington and a squad of murder experts arrived at Tony Zell’s apartment. Callison had lost no time in separating me from Yolande. While he spoke to me, Tarkington interrogated Yolande. Then I was taken to Central in one car and Yolande in another. We dictated statements in different offices. Callison allowed me to see Yolande only after we’d made the statements. I’d finished first because it was old stuff to me, then I saw her in the presence of Callison. He was gentleman enough to step away while she asked me if I’d come to see her. I told her I’d be in touch.

Now Callison smiled at me over his desk. Tarkington leaned against the wall near the door. Callison lifted my ring of skeleton keys from his desk blotter, shook the keys.

“These little items could cost you your license, Mr. Kent.”

I merely nodded. He rattled the keys a few more times, then he tossed them to me.

“Much obliged,” I said.

Tarkington made a throat sound and shuffled his feet. This brought a new smile to Callison’s lips. He said:

“My associate thinks we should, in his words, ‘lower the boom’ on you.”

I said nothing.

Callison said, “I told him, of course, that such a move would be a mistake. Do you know why, Mr. Kent?”

“No,” I said.

“There are two reasons. The first you already know: I feel you may be of help in this case. You are, in a manner of speaking, my safety valve. I think we already have the murderer of Reena Avery, but there is just a slight possibility that I’m wrong.” Callison frowned. “Let’s make that more than a slight possibility. The finding of Zell’s body rather changes things. Don’t you agree with that, Mr. Kent?”

“I do.”

“What do you think his murder means?”

“Lieutenant, you’re asking me to enter the brain of a dead man.”

“But you must have some idea.”

“Only the obvious one. Tony Zell knew too much and so he was killed.”

Callison picked up the pencil and rapped the rubber end against his chin a few times, then he said, “I haven’t told you my second reason for not using the breaking-and-entering charge against you.” His face soured a little. “I prefer not to make a minor martyr of you, Mr. Kent.”

“Martyr?”

“You have the newspapermen in your corner. One in particular.”

“And who might that be?”

Callison’s eyes probed mine. “You don’t know?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you acquainted with Henry Jorgenson of the Post?”

“I know Hank well.”

“When did you see him last?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A week ago, I guess.”

“But not since?”

“I can’t remember seeing him.”

“He’s a liar,” Tarkington said from the door.

I turned to the big detective, gave him a dirty look. I do my share of twisting the truth around, but I don’t enjoy being called a liar. I said:

“A good detective backs up his charges with evidence. Are

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