Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 02 by Sacred & Profane

Author:Sacred & Profane [Sacred & Profane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781410448200
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 1987-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

14

The alley was a tunnel of black and smelled liked a setup. Decker unhitched his gun and took out a penlight. Shining it on the lumpy asphalt, he inched his way toward the rear of the third building on his left, nostrils flaring at the odor of rotting garbage and excrement. He stopped. There was something wrong, and as much as he wanted a handle on this case, this wasn’t the way to get one. Turning back, he froze suddenly at the sound of a hiss.

“Son of a bitch,” the hoarse voice croaked.

Decker spun around in the direction of the whisper and saw nothing but boxes and dented trash cans.

“Clementine?”

“I said no pieces, Cop.”

“It’s my security blanket.”

“That wasn’t the deal, Cop.”

Decker said, “I’ve got the cash, Clementine.” He began to sweat. Killing the penlight, he backed up against a wall. The conversation was taking place in the dark. No sense being in the spotlight.

“Throw over the green,” the raspy voice instructed. “Across the alley, second building on your right.”

“First you tell me what you know about the Countess.”

“First you toss over the bread.”

They were at a standstill. No one so far had known the Countess’s true identity, and all roads pointed to Clementine. This pow-wow had been arranged via the pimp’s number one lady. Info for cash—$200 in twenties.

He played the scenario in his head. Once he forked over the money, the pimp couldn’t escape without coming into his line of vision. And he did have his piece…

He shone his penlight across the alley and pitched the envelope of cash where Clementine had instructed.

“It better be good for what we’re paying you, Clementine.”

The pimp made no move to pick up the package.

Silence. Decker turned off the light. In the distance he saw the glowing orange tip of a cigarette.

“Name was Kate Armbruster. A mud duck from Klamath Falls, Oregon,” the voice whispered. “Picked her up when she was fourteen. She wasn’t even fresh then—a had-out piece of shit. But she worked her tail off. Got a lot of action from her. Then she got weird.”

“What happened?” the detective asked.

“Met up with a dude called the Blade—skinny, crazy cracker into knives and pain. Permanent pain, if you can dig what I’m saying. Boogying with the high beams on—smoking lots of Jim Jones. I know they offed animals—big dogs. Get the poor motherfuckers tightroped on water and watch them rip each other apart. They say Katie just loved puppies. Cut ’em up live and offer ’em to old six sixty-six himself. Some say they got more so-fist-to-cated in their taste.”

“Meaning?”

“Only one step up from animals, Cop. You put two and two together.”

“Who is this Blade?”

“Don’t know his real name. Dude must be in his twenties, average height, and skinny, like I said. Brown hair and maybe brown eyes. Can’t tell you much more. All white meat looks alike.”

“Where did they hang out, Clementine.”

“Don’t know.”

Decker illuminated the money with his penlight, aimed his .38, and shot off the tip of the envelope. The alley reverberated with the echo of the blast and filled with the smell of gunpowder.

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