Leaving the Scene by Dana King

Author:Dana King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

2:34 p.m.

Shimp and Sisler caught Randall Szul on his way out. “Can this wait? I’m running late for work.”

Notebook already in Shimp’s hand. “Where do you work, Mr. Szul?”

“Brackenridge Fabricating Works across the river.” Looked at his watch. “I’m on three-to-eleven this week and I really gotta go. There’ll be traffic on the bridge.”

“We’ll just be a minute.” Shimp pointed to a Camaro with its better days in the rearview. “Is this your car?”

“It’s paid for,” Szul said as if it were not a foregone conclusion.

“We don’t care about that.” Shimp smiled to herself for using a variation of the line Dougherty lived for. “Where were you on the night of July 18th?”

“What day was it?” Szul showed more interest in Sisler checking out his car than in Shimp’s question.

“Last Thursday.”

Szul gave it thought. Or at least pretended to. “Thursdays I like to go out after work. Get a few beers and some wings at the Inn.”

“What time were you there?”

“I’m not saying I was there—when? Thursday? I’m just saying what I like to do most Thursdays.”

Sisler leaned in to look through a window. “You mind if I take a look inside?”

Szul said, “What for?” and Shimp didn’t like the way he said it.

“I’m curious to see if the primer and Bondo look you’re going for on the outside works as well on the interior.”

Szul’s toe took an edge. “Don’t you need a warrant to look inside?”

Sisler still peering through the window. “Not if you say it’s all right. No big deal. I can always come back.” Looked over the roof of the car to Szul. “With a warrant. Your call.”

“I guess it’s okay.” Szul showed the enthusiasm of a high school kid who had to cut the grass when his friends just scored some.

Sisler tried the driver’s door. Stood and made a key-turning motion. Opened his hands to receive a throw. Szul tossed the keys and Sisler unlocked the door while Shimp kept Szul occupied. “You’re sure you don’t remember what you did last Thursday?”

“What did you do that night?”

Shimp pondered no more than a second. “I did laundry while I watched the ballgame. Pirates lost to San Diego. Five to three, I think. It was the night they used four pitchers to get out of the fifth inning.” Szul volunteered no information. “So, what did you do Thursday the 18th?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Probably none.”

“Then why do I have to tell you?”

“You don’t.” Shimp looked over to where Sisler rummaged through the Camaro’s back seat. “It would look better if we didn’t think you stonewalled us and made up a story in the meantime. If it does become important later.”

“That look any worse than me changing my story?”

“It’s hard to say.” Szul’s expression called bullshit. “If we come back, we’ll know a lot more than we do now. We also understand people make honest mistakes like thinking they were someplace on Thursday when it was really Friday. Let’s make it easier for you: Were you out late that night?”

“How late?”

“Midnight? One o’clock?”

Szul took his time.

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