True Detectives Read Online Free PDF Page B

Frostig file with elevated blood sugar.
    Concentrating on the interviews with Rory Stoltz, trying to tease out anything he might’ve missed.
    Across the room, Del Hardy said, “Well, look who the smog blew in.”
    Chortles and palm-smacking high-fives made Moe glance over.
    Del was on his feet, grinning.
    At Aaron.
    Aaron pretended to ignore Moe, kept shooting the breeze with the older detective. Not deferential to Hardy. Relaxed, a peer.
    Moe pretended to ignore Aaron back. Aaron said something to Hardy in a low voice and Hardy laughed again.
    Something to do with Del’s case? Had Aaron been hired by the fifteen-year-old hit-vixen’s lawyers to stir up trouble?
    But if Del saw Aaron as the enemy, you couldn’t tell from his posture. Just the opposite, two guys, shooting the breeze.
    Two black guys. They could’ve been a rumpled dad and his much cooler son.
    Moe the invisible man. He buried his face in the file.
    “Moses!”
    Aaron was standing over him, grinning. As if he hadn’t just shined Moe on. Moe couldn’t care less about clothes, thought his blazers and khakis were just fine for the job. But sometimes, when he saw how Aaron put himself together, he felt underdressed.
    Today’s haute-whatever was a slim-fit black suit, white shirt, orange tie as bright as a Caltrans cone, worn with one of those oversized knots that took up a whole bunch of space and screamed
Serious GQ
.
    Moe’s knot was always slipping. It felt loose, right now, but he resisted the urge to yank.
    Now Del Hardy was staring at
him
, perplexed by Moe’s unresponsiveness.
    Moe said, “Hey.”
    “Morning, bro. Busy?”
    “Yup.”
    “Busy on Caitlin Frostig?”
    Moe’s chest tightened. “Why?”
    “She’s mine now,” said Aaron. “In addition to being yours.”
    Moe shut the file. “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about free enterprise, Moses.”
    “Who hired you?”
    “Mr. Frostig’s boss.”
    “Why not Frostig himself?”
    “Bookkeeper’s salary affording my daily? I think not. We need to chat, bro.”
    “Nothing to chat about.”
    Aaron placed a hand on Moe’s shoulder. Moe removed it.
    “It’s going to be
that
way, Moses?”
    “There’s nothing to talk about. The case is nowhere.”
    “Maybe I can find a somewhere.”
    “Miracle worker.”
    Aaron grinned. “It’s been known to happen.”
    Moe turned away.
    “Moses, on those marsh murders. I don’t think I’d be exaggerating if I said I played somewhat of a role.”
    “This is different.”
    “How about a look at the file?”
    “Nothing worth looking at.”
    “C’mon, Moe.”
    “Forget it.”
    Aaron shrugged. “From what Mr. Frostig said, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
    “About what?”
    “His feeling is you never considered Caitlin worth your time.”
    Moe’s face got hot. He knew he’d turned beet red. Something Aaron could always avoid.
    “He can feel what he wants. Not going to change the facts.”
    “I agree,” said Aaron.
    “With what?”
    “Frostig’s opinion not being worth much. He’s a weirdo, strange affect—that’s shrink-talk for off-kilter emotional responses. Who knows, he could be one of those Asperbergers—that’s an autism-spectrum disorder—”
    “I know what it is.”
    “Been reading up on psychology?”
    Actually, Moe had. Going through a pile of books Dr. Delaware had suggested. Interesting stuff, but none of it relevant to Caitlin Frostig.
    Moe smiled. His face continued to flame.
    Aaron said, “Maitland doesn’t bother you?”
    “Do I see him as a suspect? Nothing points that way.”
    “Not a suspect, Moses. A factor—a contributing factor. As in Caitlin’s got one parent and unfortunately that one parent is a weirdo and she finally has enough of living with him and decides to book.”
    “A rabbit,” said Moe. “You’ve got evidence of that?”
    “I’ve got nothing except a big fat retainer that I’d like to deserve. That’s why I’m here instead of taking the C4S around the