The Dead Play On Read Online Free PDF

generalizing, even stereotyping, but musicians only come in strange,” Mrs. Ruby said. “And so do some ex-athletes.”
    That drew a smirk from Larue as he looked at Quinn.
    Quinn looked back at Mrs. Ruby. “You know me?”
    “I followed your football career years ago, young man.” She wagged a finger at him. “And I witnessed your downfall, saw you join the dregs of humanity, and still, like most of this city, when you died on that operating table and came back to life, I said a hallelujah. Yes, I know you. And I know you were a cop and became a private eye, and that you’ve been working weird cases with this one here—” she paused and nodded toward Jake “—and old Angus Cafferty’s daughter. So let’s establish this right away. You work the strange—and musicians are strange.”
    “Can you describe any of the friends hanging around in richer detail than just ‘strange’?” Quinn asked her, grinning.
    “Sure. I’m eighty-eight. Not much else to do. Traveling too far around the city tires me out, so I sit on the porch a lot. Lord, I do love watching the life around me. And lots of people come and go. A tall, beautiful black man came a lot. When he’s here, the house is a’rocking. I mean, for real. The man is a drummer. Then there’s a woman—let’s see, early forties, pleasant, hardly strange at all, for a musician. Brown hair, brown eyes.” She leaned toward Quinn. “She’s got the hots for the tall black man. There’s a pudgy fellow, about five foot nine. You got pictures? You show ’em to me. You want to get a sketch artist out here? I can have a go. But I don’t think you’re going to find his killer among them. I got a glance at what they did to him—no friend of the man did anything like that.”
    “The first you knew about this in any way was when Lacey Cavanaugh came to you?” Larue asked.
    Mrs. Ruby winced. “That poor girl. When we looked in that window, we couldn’t see clear. But he wasn’t moving, and I knew...well, I wasn’t giving anybody a key until the cops came. I’d give a lot to help you more. Whoever did this came and went. Guess he was with Larry for a while,” she said quietly, her face grim.
    “Mrs. Ruby, thank you for your help. If you think of anything else, anything at all, that could be helpful, you’ll call us?” Quinn asked. Both he and Larue handed her their cards.
    She studied the business cards and then looked at the two men. “How long do you think he was in there?” she asked. “An hour? Two hours?”
    “One,” Quinn said. Larue nodded his agreement.
    “Still, six in the morning—someone should have seen the killer leave,” she said. “I do watch television, you know. I am aware of how things go down.”
    “I’m sure you are,” Jake told her. “And we’re doing a canvass of the neighborhood. I have officers going door-to-door.”
    “We watch television, too,” Quinn said gravely.
    She gave him a swat on the knee. “Behave, young man. I’ll be here, ready to look at pictures, describe people, whatever you need,” she told them.
    “Is there anywhere else you can go?” Larue asked her. “Crime scene techs will be coming and going, and there will be officers on hand for a while, but if you feel insecure...”
    “I’m not insecure. At my age?” Mrs. Ruby demanded.
    “Still, be careful when you open the door,” Jake warned her.
    “Detective Larue,” she said. “I won’t be opening my door without seeing who is outside, I promise you. And if I
do
open the door, I’ll have my Glock in hand and a truckload of silver hollow-point bullets that will take care of
any
opponent, human or...otherwise. And don’t you worry. I have a permit for it, and I know how to use it.”
    “Just don’t go shooting the postman,” Jake warned.
    “Want to visit a shooting range with me?” she demanded sharply. “I won’t go shooting any uppity cops, either, I promise. Though it may be tempting.”
    Laughing, Jake apologized as they