On the Street Where You Die (Stanley Bentworth mysteries Book 1) by Al Stevens

room watching daytime TV. If ever there was a reason for a man not to retire, Jerry Springer and Law and Order reruns are it.
    Amanda had taken the day off so Willa could do some work at the office. After a session of me pleading and her objecting, I wore her down and persuaded her to take me to the office. She dropped me off at the front door.
    “Will you be able to get up the stairs okay?” she asked.
    “Sure. See you later.”
    The stairs were not easy. It took me a half hour to climb the two flights. When I went in the office, Willa was busy at her desk writing checks to pay bills.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked and went back to writing in the check book.
    “Got bored at the Amanda Bentworth boarding house and nursing home,” I said. “What are you doing?”
    “Paying bills.” This time she didn’t look up. All business, that lady.
    “Didn’t you pay bills a couple weeks ago?”
    “Funny thing about bills. You pay them and they just come back. Like mowing the lawn or feeding your cat.”
    “I don’t mow the lawn, and I don’t have a cat,” I said.
    “You don’t pay bills, either. It’s a wonder we’re not both in debtor’s prison.”
    “Both? I’m the one not paying bills.”
    She shook her head. “One of which is my salary. I’ve been warding off the old bill collector myself.”
    I did my best to put on a guilty face, but it didn’t work.
    “I’ll be at Amanda’s tomorrow to look after you,” she said.
    “I don’t like all this attention. Amanda and you hovering over me, bringing me coffee and food, doing my meds, fluffing my pillow.”
    “Don’t get used to it.”
    I went in the office. There sat Rodney at a second desk.
    “Where did the desk come from?”
    “Salvation Army thrift shop. I paid ten bucks for it. They threw the chair in. Getting it up the stairs was the hard part.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    I sat at my desk and dialed Buford’s number.
    “Buford, I’m back in the office. Anything happening with your case?”
    I lit my last cigarette ever and tossed the match on the floor. Just because I could.
    “Got a continuance,” Buford said. “Maybe two months before I go to trial. I want this thing cleared up by then.”
    “I’m working on it. How about if I come see you this afternoon? We’ll kick it around.”
    “That would be good. This place is shut down like Fort Knox . I’ll tell the guards to let you through. You still driving that piece of shit station wagon?”
    “Yeah. Rodney’s my driver now.”
    “I guess you heard. That Captain Pugh won’t be bothering your sister any more.”
    That was a surprise. A nice surprise. I couldn’t wait to hear why.
    “No, I didn’t hear anything. What happened?”
    “In this morning’s paper. Had an accident in his boat. Must have been a leaky fuel line and a short circuit. The boat blew up in the middle of the river.”
    “Was he on board?” That would be too good to be true.
    “They think so. Somebody had to have sailed it out there. They didn’t find a body. But then, they didn’t find much else either. He’s on the menu. The fish got him.”
    I didn’t trust the good news. “Could be maybe it wasn’t an accident?” I said.
    “Couldn’t say. But I bet that Penrod murder cop comes to see you about it.”
    “He will. I have an alibi. I was imprisoned at my sister’s house. And can’t get around on my own. Shit, I can barely make it to the john without help.”
    “Yeah. Convenient, ain’t it? Alibi-wise, that is.”
    We hung up, and I told Rodney, “We’re going out this afternoon. But I want to get some lunch first. You can help me down the stairs.”
    “You want me to go for carryout?”
    “No thanks. And don’t you start mothering me too,” I said as we went past Willa’s desk. “Leave that to your mom. And Grandma Willa here.”
    Willa made an audible snort and slammed the checkbook closed.
    We left the office and went to the stairway. Rodney supported me with my good arm