D is for Deadbeat by Sue Grafton Page B

eye.”
    â€œJesus,” he said. He rocked back in his chair. “Tell me something. How come women do that? Let guys punch ’em out?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    He drained his beer glass and set it down. “I bet you don’t take crap from anyone, am I right?”
    â€œWe all take crap from someone,” I said.
    Billy got up. “Sorry to cut this off, but I gotta split.” He turned, tucking his shirt down into his pants more securely. His body language said he’d already taken off and hoped his clothing would catch up with him by the time he hit the street.
    I got up, reaching for my slicker. “You’re not leaving town, are you?”
    â€œWhat business is it of yours?”
    â€œIt doesn’t seem like a good idea with Daggett’s death hanging fire. Suppose the cops want to talk to you.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œWhere you were last night, for starters.”
    His tone rose. “Where
I
was? What are you talkin’ about?”
    â€œThey might want to know about the connection between Daggett and you.”
    â€œWhat connection? That’s a crock. I don’t know where you come up with that.”
    â€œIt’s not me you have to worry about. It’s the cops who count.”
    â€œWhat cops?”
    I shook my head. “You know who your friendly local cops are,” I said. “If somebody puts a bug in the wrong ear, you’ll be sitting in the hot seat.”
    He was all outrage. “Why would you do that to me?”
    â€œBecause you’re not leveling with me, William.”
    â€œI
am
leveling with you! I’ve told you everything I know.”
    â€œI don’t think so. I think you knew about Daggett’s death. I think you saw him this week.”
    He put his hands on his hips and looked off across the room, shaking his head. “Man, this is all I need. This is no lie. I’ve been straight. I’m minding my own business, doing like I been told. I didn’t even know the dude was up here.”
    â€œYou can stick to your story if you like,” I said, “but I’ll give you a word of advice. I’ve got the license number of that car you bought. You bolt and I’m calling Lieutenant Dolan down at Homicide.”
    He seemed as much puzzled as dismayed. “What is this? A shakedown? Is that what this is about?”
    â€œWhat’s to shake? You don’t have a cent. I want information, that’s all.”
    â€œI don’t
have
any information. How many times I gotta tell you that?”
    â€œLook,” I said patiently. “Why don’t I let you think about the situation and then we can talk again.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go fuck yourself!”
    I put my slicker on, tucking the strap of my handbag over my shoulder. “Thanks for the beer. I’ll buy yours next time.”
    He made an exaggerated gesture of dismissal, too pissed off to reply. He headed toward the door and I watched him go. I glanced at my watch. It was well after midnight and I was exhausted. My head was starting to ache and I knew everything about me smelled like stale cigarette smoke. I wanted to go home, strip down, shower, and then crawl into the folds of my quilt. Instead, I took a deep breath and went after him.

 
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    I gave him a good head start, then followed him back to the trailer. The temperature felt like it had dropped into the fifties. The eucalyptus trees were still tossing occasional showers at me when the wind cut through, but for the most part, the night was clear. Above me, I could see pale puffs of rain clouds receding, wide patches of starry sky breaking through. I parked half a block away and padded into the park on foot as I had before. Billy’s car was parked beside the trailer. I was getting bored, but I had to be certain he wasn’t heading off to consult with some confederate I didn’t know about.
    The same lights