The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [19]
“You take good care of my husband,” she told him.
We kissed again, then she got into her car and drove away. I had never understood what it meant to have a heavy heart. Now I understood it all too well.
Going inside, I heard Sonny call my name from the bar. I stuck my head in to see what he wanted. Sonny had dressed up for work. He wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt with gaping holes in the armpits, and had several silver rings stuck through his eyebrows.
“You just got a phone call,” Sonny said.
“Friend or foe?” I asked.
“Some asshole detective wants to talk to you. Said it was important.”
“Did he leave a number?”
“Yeah.”
At the bar, Sonny handed me the cordless phone and a bowl of table scraps, which I placed on the floor for Buster. In exchange for part of my rent, Sonny saved leftover food for my dog, and I watched Buster noisily chow down.
I felt a pair of eyes staring at me. Sitting at the bar was a perfectly proper British couple eating breakfast. Tourists occasionally ventured into the Sunset, thinking it was a respectable place. Seeing the Dwarfs or my dog usually changed their minds.
“Top of the morning,” I said.
The couple settled their check and left. I filched a piece of toast off a plate.
“Where’s the number?” I asked.
Sonny opened his hand. The number was written on his palm in red ink. I dialed it, and Cheeks answered.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I just found a guy in the county lockup who’s willing to talk to us about Teen Angel,” Cheeks said.
“What’s his name?”
“Vonell Cook. He said he’ll roll on Teen Angel if we put it in writing that he helped us. He’s facing ten years to life for molesting a teenage girl.”
“Did you agree?” I asked.
“Yeah, I agreed. You need to get your ass over here.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting. And, Jack? If you bring that goddamn dog, I’ll take him into the parking lot and shoot him.”
“You’re all heart,” I said.
I made it to sheriff’s department headquarters on Military Trail in good time. I didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but I’d taken care to put on my cleanest pair of cargo pants and newest Tommy Bahama shirt. People I had once worked with were going to see me, and I wanted to make a decent impression.
Cheeks met me at the reception area wearing a rumpled suit and a hangdog expression. He pulled me to the side, and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry about last night. I was drinking before you called. I shouldn’t have gone after you like that.”
He was trying to make nice. I didn’t see any good reason not to play along.
“How’s your arm?” I asked.
Cheeks showed me where Buster had bitten him. The skin was hardly broken. I showed him the bruise on my arm where he’d hit me with his flashlight.
“I guess that makes us even,” he said.
“I guess so,” I said.
We went downstairs to the interrogation cell where Vonell Cook was being held. Before entering the cell, Cheeks sounded a cautionary note. “Be careful what you say around Vonell’s lawyer. He’s a tricky son-of-a-bitch.”
Broward County had a thousand registered sexual predators, and a small group of lawyers in town made a nice living representing them. These lawyers were scum, and loathed by everyone but their clients.
We entered the interrogation cell. Vonell Cook sat in a plastic chair, staring at the wall. In his late forties and shaped like a bowling ball, he wore a bright orange jumpsuit and flip-flops that had seen a thousand pairs of feet before his. Beside him stood his lawyer, a bottom-feeder with crooked teeth and shiny hair plastered to his head. I’d heard his name a few times around the courthouse, but had never bothered to remember it.
“Who are you?” the lawyer asked.
“Jack Carpenter.”
“I’ve heard of you,” he said.
“Everyone’s heard of Jack,” Vonell said.
I took that as a compliment. Grabbing the other chair in the room, I sat in it facing Vonell. As I started to speak, his lawyer interrupted me.
“Here’s the deal. My client is being charged with having sexual indiscretions with an underage girl. I want those charges dropped to indecent exposure so he won’t go to prison