Maximum Security by Rose Connors Page A

utters the occasional obscenity to an unsuspecting tourist.

    Even the cops are in on the arrangement. They turn blind eyes to Rinky’s antics too—unless it’s winter. In winter they pick him up whenever they can, haul him in, and hold him as long as his transgression-of-the-moment allows. That way he won’t freeze to death during our frigid winter nights. Come spring’s thaw, they once again look the other way like the rest of us.

    Harry’s been representing Rinky for decades. Rinky’s never done time as early as October, and Harry doesn’t intend to let him start now. Hell, sixty days starting now barely taps into the cold season.

    But Rinky’s transgression-of-the-moment is more serious than usual. When two vacationing women approached him on Saturday night to ask for directions, he took a knife from under his coat and caressed its six-inch blade. As Harry sees it, Rinky didn’t actually threaten the visitors—he simply exercised poor judgment in sharing his prized possession with them. The two women don’t see it that way.

    Of course, in Rinky Snow’s universe he could just as easily have been brandishing a bayonet—or a banana.

    Rinky will be arraigned later today, but he’s not my concern at the moment. Harry will take good care of him, as usual. “Where the hell is the Kydd?” I ask.

    Harry shrugs. “Haven’t seen him. I thought maybe you two went straight to the station.”

    I shake my head. “We’re not going to the station. We’re meeting Walker here. At ten.” I lean forward and look out the window to see if the Kydd’s truck has pulled in yet. It hasn’t.

    “Walker agreed?” Harry asks.

    “Agreed to what?”

    He smiles up at me. “Agreed to meet here?”

    I’m distracted. Harry’s amused by that. So now I’m annoyed. “Of course he agreed. Why wouldn’t he?”

    Harry’s smile broadens, but he says nothing. I know what he’s thinking. Mitch Walker agreed—at least in part—because he knows Louisa Rawlings is a force to be reckoned with. Walker has met her only once, but with Louisa, once is enough. Besides, he knows where she lives and that means he has a pretty good handle on her net worth. Money matters, especially at the earliest stages of a criminal investigation.

    I decide to ignore Harry’s apparent amusement. I’ve no interest in discussing Louisa Rawlings’s many assets with him.

    “The Kydd picked a hell of a day to sleep in,” I say as I head out of his office.

    “Don’t worry,” he answers my back. “He’s done your warrant research.”

    “How do you know that?” I turn and lean in the doorway again.

    “He was here yesterday,” Harry says. “A man on a mission.”

    “Yesterday? I thought you went fishing yesterday.”

    “I did. But not until late afternoon. I stopped in here first for an hour or so to check messages and pick up a little.” He sweeps the room with one arm, as if he might have a shot at a job with Merry Maids.

    I laugh out loud. I can’t help it. It’s scary to think this is the after -cleanup picture.

    He frowns when I look back at him, apparently insulted. “Anyway,” he says, “the Kydd was already working when I got here and he was still hard at it when I left. He said he would be tied up last night. Wanted to get the job done by the end of the day.”

    This information should make me feel better. But for some reason I can’t articulate, it doesn’t.

    “And he looked like the future of civilization depended on the results of his research,” Harry continues. “So I think you can relax.”

    I’m not relaxed. Harry’s news unsettles me. The Kydd made a point of telling me he had no plans. But so what? Plans develop sometimes. And why the hell should I care anyhow?

    Harry rests his head against the back of his tall leather chair and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know,” he says, pointing his pen at me, “I think maybe the Kydd has found himself a woman.”

    “A what?”

    “A