Ting-A-Ling (11 page)

It didn’t sound surprising, considering the source. It would screw up our lunch time plans, not that I had any.

“That works,” I said, trying to sound like it did. “We’ll see you then, twelve-forty-five.”

“Thank you,” Manning said, sounding less than sincere before he hung up.

“So?” Louie asked.

“You heard, twelve-forty-five. Typical, just in time to screw up our lunch time, plus it gives him a couple of hours to plan on how he can best rake me over the coals.”

“Come on, how long does it take to order a Big Mac and fries? We can go through the drive-up if we want. Besides, he’s going to take your statement. Not give you the third degree.”

“You sound a lot more convinced of that than me,” I said.

It was a couple hours later and we were grabbing an early lunch. “Can you give me an extra ketchup with those fries?” Louie said. “You want anything else?” he asked me.

I shook my head
‘no’
.

“Better throw in a McRib,” Louie said.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Probably one of those apple pies too,” Louie added, and looked over at me. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

I shook my head again.

“That’ll do it,” he said into the speaker.

The guy gave us our total and told us to pull up to the first window. We pulled up and waited for the car ahead to finish. The woman appeared to be having trouble finding her exact change.

“I figure the apple pie kind of takes care of the fruit requirement for the day,” Louie said, sounding serious. He was staring vacantly out the window at the car ahead of us. Now the woman was placing one coin at a time into the palm of the guy’s outstretched hand.

“Yeah, after the Big Mac, large fries, cheeseburger and the McRib is washed down with that strawberry shake, something healthy like apple pie probably does make sense,” I said.

Louie nodded then added, “I’m getting this, by the way, you paid the last time.” The car ahead finally moved and Louie drove forward until he was alongside the window.

The guy inside was talking into a headset, taking an order as he sorted a handful of coins into the change drawer. He took the twenty dollar bill Louie gave him, handed back about six cents in change and told us to pull ahead to the next window.

As nice as Louie’s gesture sounded I felt like reminding him that the last time we ate together I paid after we had spent the better part of four hours at some trendy Italian place with thirty dollar entrees, two bottles of wine, something flaming for dessert and pretty strong after dinner drinks. I was not going to consider us even.

“Thanks,” Louie said a moment later and handed a very large bag over to me. He pulled an empty coffee cup out of the console between us, tossed it over his shoulder and into the back seat. Then he crammed his strawberry shake into the console, loosening the plastic lid in the process.

I stared into the bag. It figured. My filet of fish was way down on the bottom beneath everything Louie had ordered. “What do you want first?” I asked.

“I don’t care, just hand me something,” he said, then drove off. He started with the apple pie, wolfed down the cheeseburger, and then inhaled the Big Mac after that. He let the wrappers drift down to the floor around his feet. He was working his way through the McRib, dribbling sauce on his pinstriped lapel when he asked, “Mmm-mmm, what’s wrong, aren’t you gonna eat?”

He said it in a way that suggested he wasn’t really worried about my food intake, but was maybe thinking there could be one more thing to devour if somehow I had lost my appetite.

“Yes, I’m going to eat. It’s just that my filet of fish was way down on the bottom. Your stuff was piled on top. I couldn’t get to the thing until now.”

“Don’t know how you can eat that thing,” he said and gave a non-committal shrug. As we pulled into the potholed parking lot across from the police station Louie reached for his strawberry shake.

“God, I thought they were supposed to pave this damn thing,” he said just as the lid slipped off and strawberry shake dripped over the McRib sauce he’d spilled on his suit coat.

“You’re dripping there, big boy.”

“Huh? Oh, damn it,” he said, then bounced across two more potholes and pulled into a parking place. He crammed the cup back into the console then used his index finger to halt strawberry shake from running any further down his suit coat. He licked his finger clean, repositioned the lid on the shake and started sucking the straw in earnest.

I placed my Filet of Fish back in the box. I’d lost my appetite and truth be told I wasn’t looking forward to heading back into the police station and talking with Manning.

Louie released his grip on the straw long enough to ask, “You gonna finish that fish?”

“You can have it if you want.”

“God, I don’t know why anyone orders these things,” he said and crammed half the filet into his mouth. “Mmm-mmm,” he grunted, then sort of nodded and raised his eyebrows as if to suggest,
‘not half-bad’
.

“Should we go in there and get this over with?” I said a few minutes later.

Louie sucked on his straw until it gurgled an empty reply. He dropped the cup into the back seat and looked over at me. “Just pay attention to my cues in there. Okay? We are here of our own free will. We’re here to help in their investigation. We’re here to take you off their list of suspects. Anytime Manning asks you a question I want you to look at me before you answer. I touch you on the leg like this,” he touched my thigh. “That means you shut the hell up. I don’t care if you’re in mid-sentence, Dev. You stop talking. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Say it,” Louie commanded.

“Yeah, relax, I got it. Come on, Manning’s probably running a stop watch just to see if we show up on time.” I climbed out of the car. Louie did the same, scattering wrappers across the floor of the front seat as he did so. He sort of hiked his trousers up by pulling on his belt, not that it did anything to help his appearance. He strode off toward the building entrance across the street. I followed dutifully behind. I focused on the graveled parking lot, dodging potholes until we made it to the street. Louie stamped his feet on the pavement in an effort to knock off some of the snow and slush.

“Just remember, we’re in charge on this deal. We’re here to set the record straight and get ahead of any bullshit ideas before they get carried away over the course of their investigation,” Louie said, then stepped off again once a car drove past.

I noticed for the first time that his pinstriped coat had substantially thinner stripes than the stripes on his trousers. Somehow, he’d managed to mix up two different pinstriped suits. I figured that was the least of my problems as we entered the lobby and approached the Desk Sergeant.

Chapter Twenty-Six

We weren’t incarcerated in
the standard cinder block interview room with uncomfortable plastic chairs, whips, chains and torture devices hanging from the wall. Manning had us seated in a sort of conference room with padded carpet, a long polished wooden table, comfortable upholstered chairs and halfway decent coffee.

Aaron LaZelle had poked his head in as we were getting seated. We’d exchanged one liners, he thanked us for coming down and then he fled the scene as fast as was prudently possible.

Up until now, Manning hadn’t said a lot except to explain that we were being taped and filmed. He introduced the dour faced blonde woman seated next to him as, “One of our department consultants, Ms. Sinn.”

“That’s S-I-N-N,” she interjected with a slight growl and without the trace of a smile.

“Pleased to meet you,” Louie said. He extended his wrinkled coat arm with a drop or two of strawberry shake.

“Nice to meet you.” I nodded from across the table.

“So, let’s get started, shall we?” Manning said. He looked about as comfortable with Ms. Sinn as I felt. He listed off the usual time and place information, the names of everyone in the room. He stated that we had come of our own free will and that I was not facing any charges, and on and on. Then he asked, “Does everything I’ve said so far meet with your approval?”

I nodded.

Louie said, “Yes, it does.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Haskell you gave a nod, would you mind stating for the record that you’re in agreement thus far?”

“Yes, I agree to the time, the date and the names of everyone in this room.” I half laughed.

Louie’s hand gave me a warning shot beneath the table.

“Very well. If you would care to proceed with your statement, please.”

I looked over at Louie and he nodded, giving me the go ahead.

“I was hired by a client to locate Mr. Renee Paris. Up until I spoke with my client I was only vaguely aware of Mr. Paris from local news reports. I had never met the man. To the best of my knowledge, I have never been involved in any business or social dealings with Renee Paris. I have never, to the best of my knowledge, been involved in a transaction of any sort with Renee Paris nor any organization he has been or is associated with.”

I went on to describe how I searched the internet for information. How I reviewed his county tax records online. I stated that the real estate tax information is a matter of public record. Then I explained how I phoned him and set up an appointment to meet him. I stressed that Renee Paris suggested we meet at the Casey’s location. I met with him, left and did not learn about the fire until forty-eight hours after the event when I read about it in the newspaper. Once I read the newspaper article I phoned Detective Manning so I could make a statement. I finished and glanced over at Louie who gave me a brief nod.

“What did you hope to accomplish by meeting Mr. Paris?” Manning asked.

“Exactly what I did accomplish. I merely reminded him that my client had provided him with a loan and that my client wished to be paid back. I suggested to Mr. Paris that he might contact my client and work out some sort of payment arrangement.”

“And your client is?”

Louie tapped me on the thigh and said, “I think we’ll assert out right to client confidentiality at this point. Perhaps, if we can receive prior approval, we would be more than willing to pass that name on to you, Detective.”

The humorless Sinn woman scribbled a note and slid it over to Manning, then stared at Louie’s stained suit coat without blinking. I was beginning to think she might be more dangerous than Manning.

“Could you describe your conversation with Mr. Paris in a little more detail?” Manning asked.

“There really isn’t that much to describe. He was cooking his Bar-B-Que sauce, at least that’s what I think he was doing. LuSifer’s is or well, maybe was his brand name.”

Louie touched my leg again. “I’d like to point out that at this stage that’s really just conjecture on the part of Mr. Haskell. He’s unaware of circumstances that would lead one to conclude Mr. Paris is anything other than fit and continuing with his Bar-B-Que sauce business. Let the record state that LuSifer’s
is
the brand name of Mr. Paris’ sauce.”

Manning nodded. “So noted. You were saying?”

Louie gave me a go ahead nod.

“Well, I was saying Paris was cooking up all this sauce. The place smelled great, there was a table covered with onion skins, boxes that looked like they had tomatoes in them, jars of spice, garlic, wrappers from pounds of butter, brown sugar. You know, the normal sort of stuff you’d have around if you were cooking, just lots of it.”

Manning nodded like we were just pals shooting the shit.

“I think there were five or six large containers, maybe this big.” I indicated with my hands. “They were cooking on the stove. I remember you could just hear this soft sort of boiling sound and like I said, the place smelled pretty good.”

“Were you aware of any other individuals present?”

“No, to the best of my knowledge, it was just the two of us. I parked next to his car. At least I think it was his, a silver Mercedes. There were no other cars in the back lot. Only one set of footprints in the snow going up to the door. Like I said, I think we were alone, at least to the best of my knowledge.”

The Sinn woman slid another note over to Manning.

Manning’s face flushed slightly and looked like he was about to get mad. I couldn’t determine if it was me or the note passing Sinn he was going to be mad at.

“Let’s go back to your discussion with Mr. Paris, shall we? You suggested to Mr. Paris that your client wished to be repaid?”

“Yes.”

“Did this seem to come as a surprise to Mr. Paris?”

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t think he was surprised at all. I just…” Louie’s hand hit off my thigh.

Manning looked from me to Louie, then back to me again.

“So, he just nodded and said thank you?” Manning finally asked.

“Not exactly, but I don’t believe he was surprised. He mentioned something about insurance benefits and I suggested my client might want to be repaid in a more timely manner. Beyond that, whatever arrangement he works out with my client is strictly between the two of them. I don’t believe my involvement would serve any purpose.”