Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209) by Jason Miller Page A

him.”
    Wince sucked around on that one some, looking me in the face.
    â€œWay the boy downstairs tells it, too,” he said. “He says he doesn’t know for what, though. Claims Luster never told him.”
    â€œYou believe him?”
    â€œYou asking private detective questions again?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œGood. You’re learning. Consider your knuckles rapped. Head on back into the policeman’s reunion.”
    â€œThere is a cop or two down there.”
    â€œA lot of them, this is their first red ball. I didn’t know better, I’d think some of them are actually happy about it.”
    â€œEverybody likes to feel useful.”
    â€œI guess, but their usefulness is a pain in my ass. I’m tripping over three shades of uniform down there, and that’s before the press and the local pols even show their faces. I don’t even want to think about scene contamination.”
    I said, “Then I won’t mention that your ambulance parked right where an intruder might have left footprints in all this new mud.”
    He smiled, a little sadly, and rubbed a leathery hand at his pelt of gray hair. “I said I don’t want to think about it. Go on down now.”
    I started for the door. Then I turned and said, “One last thing. I think Beckett and Mays might have been working on a story about the meth trade at the Knight Hawk.”
    Wince looked at me, but his face was noncommittal. You get more out of Sheetrock. He said, “Lot of that in the mines these days. Sad business.”
    â€œYeah, but this might have been something bigger. Knight Hawk’s tanks of anhydrous ammonia have been under assault lately. The company’s posted armed guards and everything. If you’ve ever seen those tanks, you know how much ingredient they’re holding.”
    Wince tried to maintain his neutral expression, but his right eyebrow flicked softly, and I knew I’d told him something he didn’t know. Money in the bank, I hoped, if I ever needed it.
    â€œAnyway,” I said, waving my hand and heading back downstairs. He followed after a while, but didn’t hang around for more chat. The cops gathered around the stairs, and the ME and his team went up again and came back shortly with Luster’s covered body. I waited for them to go out, then went to look for Jonathan but didn’t see him anywhere, and his car was gone from the drive. I tried his cell but it went to voicemail, and I clicked off without saying anything. He’d talk when he was able to, I guessed. I walked past the funeral procession and down the hill to my bike. My phone rang. It wasn’t Jonathan’s number, but I answered it anyway. I shouldn’t have. That phone was leading to nothing but woe, and if I’d had any sense I’d have tied it to a brick and thrown it in the lake.
    Temple. Of course. “I need to see you right away.”
    â€œMrs. Beckett—Temple—I’m just as sorry as I can be for your loss. Really I am. But that’s a bad idea,” I said. “Actually, it’s a terrible one. The police have asked me to steer clear, and from here on that’s what I mean to do.”
    That failed to make an impression. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice dropping. “The people who killed my father and may have killed my husband—they know about you.”
    â€œMrs. Beckett . . .”
    â€œSlim, goddamn it. Listen to me. They don’t care who you are or what your story is. They don’t care that you aren’t a private investigator. They don’t care what you told the police, and they don’t care that you’re steering clear. Trust me. You’ve got a daughter, don’t you?”
    I froze for a minute. I said, “I’ve got a daughter.”
    She said, “Then they’ve got a target.”

SIX
    S usan opened the door. She was in street clothes again. I don’t know why I