The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [295]
“Hey, Dallas, hey.” He held up both hands, palms up. “It was an accident.”
“Maybe I’ll let it go at that, Ledo. Maybe I will—if you convince me you’re in a cooperative mood.”
“Damn straight, Dallas. What d’ya want? Some Jazz, Go Smoke, Ecstasy?” He started to dig in his pockets. “No charge, none whatsoever for you. I don’t got it now, I’ll get it.”
Her eyes turned to bright gold slits. “You take anything out of your pockets but your ugly fingers, Ledo, you’re even more stupid than I figured. And I figured you for a brain the size of a walnut.”
His hands froze, his thin face went blank. Then he tried a manly chuckle, lifting his empty hands clear. “Like you said, Dallas, been a while. I guess maybe I forgot how you stand on shit. No harm, right?”
She said nothing, simply stared him down until the sweat popped out on his upper lip. She’d see he was back in a cage, she mused, at the first opportunity. But for now, she had bigger fish on the line.
“You—you want info? I ain’t your weasel. Never was any cop’s weasel, but I’m willing to trade info.”
“Trade?” she said, coldly.
“Give.” Even his tiny brain began to click in. “You ask, I know, I tell. How’s that?”
“That’s not bad. Snooks.”
“The old man with the flowers?” Ledo shrugged what there was of his shoulders. “Somebody sliced him open, I hear. Took pieces of him. I don’t touch that stuff.”
“You deal to him.”
Ledo did his best to look cagey. “Maybe we had some business, off and on.”
“How’d he pay?”
“He’d beg off some credits, or sell some of his flowers and shit. He had the means when he needed a hit of something—which was mostly.”
“He ever stiff you or any other dealers?”
“No. You don’t give sleepers nothing unless they pay up first. Can’t trust ’em. But Snooks, he was okay. No harm. He just minded his own. Nobody was doing for him that I ever heard. Good customer, no hassle.”
“You work the area where he camped regularly?”
“Gotta make a living, Dallas.” When she pinned him with her stare again, he realized his mistake. “Yeah, I deal there. It’s mostly my turf. Couple others slide in and out, but we don’t get in each other’s way. Free enterprise.”
“Did you see anybody who didn’t look like they belonged down there lately, anybody asking about Snooks or those like him?”
“Like the suit?”
Eve felt her blood jump, but only leaned back casually against the wall. “What suit?”
“Guy came down one night, duded top to bottom. Frigid threads, man. Looked me up.” More comfortable now, Ledo sat on the narrow bed, crossed one stick leg over the other. “Figured at first he didn’t want to buy his stuff in his own neighborhood, you know. So he comes slumming. But he wasn’t looking for hits.”
Eve waited while Ledo entertained himself by picking at his cuticles. “What was he looking for?”
“Snooks, I figure. Dude said what he looked like, but I can’t say that meant dick to me. Mostly the sleepers look alike. But he said how this one drew stuff and made flowers, so I copped to Snooks on that.”
“And you told him where Snooks kept his crib.”
“Sure, why not?” He started to smile, then his tiny little brain began the arduous process of deduction. “Man, shit, the suit cut Snooks open? Why’d he do that for? Look, look, Dallas, I’m clean here. Dude asks where the sleeper flops, I tell him. I mean, why not, right? I don’t know how he’s got in mind to go killing anybody.”
Sweat was popping again as he jumped to his feet. “You can’t bounce it back on me. I just talked to the bastard is all.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know. Good.” In plea or frustration, Ledo threw out his arms. “A dude. A suit. Clean and shiny.”
“Age, race, height, weight,” Eve said flatly.
“Man, man.” Grabbing hanks of his hair, Ledo began to pace the tiny room. “I don’t pay attention. It was a couple, three nights ago. A white dude?” He posed it as a question, tossing Eve a hopeful look. She only watched him. “I think he was, maybe white. I was