Slaughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

to leave. Then a couple of them got close and pecked at it.”
    â€œThe man?” Sal asked.
    Spud wiped his jutting chin again. Harold couldn’t decide whether Spud smelled like gin or diesel fuel. “Oh, they musta known each other, or else he was an awful good talker, ’cause they left together. He picked up his bag and off they went.”
    â€œBag?” Sal asked.
    â€œSure. Big blue bag with a lotta straps.”
    â€œDid it look heavy?”
    â€œNot at all.”
    â€œWhere did they go? Did they leave the park?”
    â€œNo. I’m sure of that. I kinda followed them, for some reason.”
    Sal could guess the reason. If the opportunity arose, Spud could throw a sucker punch, snatch the man’s wallet, and run. The man might not be in any position to follow.
    â€œThis woman,” Sal said. “Do you think you could identify her?”
    Spud went into his chin rub again. Smiled the ugliest smile Sal and Harold had ever seen. “You mean her head?”
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    Spud objected, but Sal and Harold drove him to Q&A and he signed a statement. He wasn’t too worried, because he didn’t see Sal or Harold or any of these people as real cops. If they were, they wouldn’t have been so nice to him. He might even be up on a vagrancy charge.
    To Spud, these were play cops, but not cops playing games.
    Sal and Harold wrote their own reports, while Quinn and Fedderman drove Spud to the morgue in Quinn’s old black Lincoln.
    Quinn figured maybe they had something here, but probably not.
    â€œI feel like the mayor,” Spud said, leaning back in his plush seat and crossing his arms. “My kingdom’s right on the other side of this window.”
    Quinn wondered what the real mayor would think of that. He drove faster.
    Fedderman figured the entire car might have to be fumigated. Quinn didn’t seem to mind. The man could prioritize.
    Spud, it turned out, was an ex-marine who’d seen the worst of it in Desert Storm. He didn’t react when they showed him the morgue photos of Lois Graham. Simply said, “Uh-huh. Same woman. Damned shame.”
    Quinn said, “You might have seen her with her killer.”
    Spud raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Mr. Popcorn?”
    â€œThe same.”
    â€œMaybe. Didn’t get a clear look at him, though. Told you he looked like a gremlin.”
    â€œLeprechaun.”
    â€œDid I say that? Shoulda said gremlin . Leprechauns ain’t always bad. Gremlins are the worst. Too curious and up to mischief all the time. No pot of gold involved.”
    â€œSome mischief,” Quinn said.
    â€œThere a reward?”
    Quinn stared at his raggedy witness in the backseat where Feds could keep an eye on him. “If you throw a net over him, I’ll pay you something out of my own pocket.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œNegotiable. And remember, your testimony wouldn’t be much good if we paid you for it.”
    â€œWouldn’t make me no difference what brand it was.”
    Quinn realized they were talking about bottles, not dollars. He gave a half smile. Spud didn’t have the ambition and balls to be mayor of what was outside the car. Good for him. “You net this gremlin and we’ll talk.” He handed Spud his card. “Give me a call and let me know if you learn anything important.”
    Spud accepted the card and gave a sloppy salute.
    They left the morgue and drove him back to the park where he’d first been accosted by Sal and Harold. A street vendor was set up near the 81st Street entrance. Quinn treated Spud to a knish and orange soda. He noticed that the vendor also sold popcorn.
    Quinn thought of warning Spud to be careful, especially where he slept.
    Then he figured Spud was careful all the time anyway. On the streets, being careful was his life.
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    The package Quinn found in the mail at Q&A hadn’t been delivered by the post office. There was no stamp