Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle by Jeffrey Round Page B

Just another street kid with ill-fitting jeans and a growing attitude. At fifteen, he’d be considered desirable by a certain crowd. That had probably been enough to make him head full-tilt down the wrong road. From the looks of him, he was now seventeen or eighteen. By twenty he’d be too disease-ridden to sell for over-ripe fruit, though there’d always be some fetishist willing to use him as a human ashtray in exchange for a place to stay when no one else wanted him. Still, he wasn’t Richard. But give it a few years and he would be.
    The boy had seen Dan. He turned and headed over. If Dan had been as forward during his time on the street, who knows where he’d be now?
    “Hi, sir,” the boy said. “Have you got the time?”
    “Sure, I’ve got time,” Dan said.
    The boy’s eyes darted up and down the sidewalk while he talked, as though afraid he might miss something. The jerky mannerisms continued. His pupils were so black, Dan felt it was like looking into a void. He had that intense sexual vibe street kids seemed to exude effortlessly, their inner antenna always attuned to someone else’s desire.
    “Let’s go somewhere,” the kid said, cocky now, as though he’d just lucked into a good thing.
    “Not that kind of time.”
    The eyes turned suspicious. “What do you want then?”
    “I’d like to talk.”
    “What about?”
    “You legal?” Dan asked.
    “I got ID,” the kid said, puffing up his scrawny frame.
    Dan resisted the urge to laugh. “I just wondered if we could go into a bar to talk.”
    The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You a cop?”
    “No.”
    “Then let’s go.” The boy led the way.
    They wandered into Zelda’s — probably the only trailer park–themed restaurant in the country. At the door, Loretta Lynn’s transsexual cousin met them in a red-and-white gingham dress with a large bow on the back. She showed them to a table before flouncing away to feed her flock.
    The boy eyed Dan. “What’d you want to talk about?”
    “What’s your name?”
    The eyes narrowed. “Grady.”
    “Hi, Grady. Mine’s Dan.”
    They shook. The boy smiled. This might be going somewhere after all.
    “What are you drinking, Grady?”
    The boy cocked his head as though it were an odd question. “Whatever.”
    Dan handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Go get yourself a whatever and keep the change. But make sure you come back and talk to me, right?”
    The boy walked off to the bar. Dan didn’t bother to watch. He knew the kid would be back. He was the only source of available cash at the moment.
    Grady came back with a local beer, bill still in hand. “You said I could keep the change, right?”
    Dan nodded. Smart boy, he thought. “It’s yours.”
    The boy sat next to him and leaned in close enough for Dan to smell his body odour. Pungent, but it had an appeal. He rubbed his knee against Dan’s. “So what do you wanna know?”
    Dan fished out the photograph of Richard Philips. “I’m looking for this kid,” he said.
    The boy took the photograph and scrutinized it. Dan saw something in his face when he looked up. “He in trouble?” Grady said.
    “He’s not in trouble for anything he’s done, but he might be in trouble wherever he’s headed. I’m trying to find him to see if he needs help. I’m not asking you to rat on him.”
    The boy nodded and looked back at the photograph, running his tongue over his lower lip.
    “His name’s Richard,” Dan said. “If that helps.”
    “Uh-huh. Maybe it was. His name’s Lester now.” The boy grinned. “If that helps.”
    Dan handed over another ten. “It helps a lot. Do you know where he is or where he might work?”
    Grady pocketed the bill. “You sure you’re not a cop?” he said, eying Dan squarely.
    “No. I’m not a cop. And the boy’s not in trouble, as I said.”
    “’Kay,” the kid said. “I don’t wanna rat on anybody. So yeah, I know a bit about Lester.”
    “How do you know him?” Dan asked.
    Grady took a long drink and set