Read Denial: A Lew Fonesca Mystery (Lew Fonesca Novels) for Free Online Page B

look at the body, then gets back in the car and drives off.”
    “Why was the boy in the middle of the street?” I asked.
    “To get to the other side. I don’t know.”
    “What was he doing in a blue-collar Hispanic neighborhood at that hour?”
    “Don’t know,” said Viviase.
    “Anyone ask his friend Andrew …”
    “Goines,” Viviase said, reading it from the file. “Yep. Mike asked him. Goines kid said he had no idea.”
    “Robles see any other traffic, cars?”
    “Doesn’t say,” said Viviase.
    “How fast was the car going?” I asked.
    “Doesn’t say, but Robles didn’t think he was speeding.”
    Viviase gave me a long look, lips pursed, and removed his glasses.
    “He ran the boy down,” I said.
    “I didn’t say that. The report doesn’t say that. Right now it’s a hit-and-run. Something else turns up, we’ll look into it.”
    He gave me a long quiet look. He wasn’t quite encouraging me, but he was a long way from telling me to mind my own business.
    “Did Robles describe the car?”
    “Let’s see … Sedan, probably late model, probably four doors.”
    Viviase closed the file, reached over to put his computer to sleep and said, “Five minutes are up.”
    “I think I’ll talk to Detective Ransom,” I said.
    “Your funeral,” he said. “That’s his desk.”
    Viviase pointed with a pencil at one of the other desks. “He’s probably at the hot dog cart outside. Late lunch.”
    I went in search of Detective Michael Ransom.
    The hot dog pushcart was on the sidewalk at the corner of Main and 301. You could see the Hollywood 20 theater across the street.
    Two men, both big, both in their thirties, one with short dark hair, the other with even shorter blond hair, were standing by the cart with a hot dog in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other.
    “Detective Ransom?” I asked.
    The heavier, younger of the two men, the one with dark hair, looked at me, his cheek full of hot dog.
    “Yeah,” he said.
    “My name’s Lew Fonesca. I just talked to Detective Viviase.”
    “So?”
    “I’m a friend of Nancy Root’s. I used to work for the state attorney’s office in Chicago,” I said. “I’m sort of her family representative.”
    Ransom took another bite of hot dog and a drink of Coke.
    “I know who you are, Fonesca,” he said.
    “You mind if I ask you a few questions?”
    “Very much,” he said.
    The other cop turned his back on us and went on eating.
    “I’ll only take a minute. By the clock.”
    “First, this is the only meal I’ve had today,” he said, showing me what was left of his hot dog. “Second, I’ve got a small stack of open felony cases sitting on my desk. The McClory death is in that stack. I’ll deal with it.”
    “I’d just like—”
    “Ed told me about you,” he said, taking a step toward me. “I am politely asking you to not interfere with my ongoing investigation.”
    “But—”
    “Now I’m firmly asking you,” he said, coming even closer.
    “If—”
    “Now I’m telling you,” he said, almost in my face.
    I smelled onions and jalapeño.
    “Tell Ms. Root I’m working on it Tell Dr. McClory I’m working on it. And tell yourself not to obstruct justice. Fonesca, I’m a tired man and I think I’ve got some kind of gastric problem. I’ve got an appointment with my doctor in the morning. This job can give a person a very bad stomach. Don’t make it worse. Now, if you want a kosher dog, I’ll pop for it, but you carry it away and don’t look back.”
    I shook my head no, walked down the street, got into my rented Saturn, drove up 301 to Fruitville, turned left and then right at Gillespie Park. The sun was bright. Kids were playing in the park. I turned just past the tennis courts down Eighth. There were cars parked on both sides but enough room for vehicles going in both directions. Kyle could have stayed on the sidewalk but he didn’t. Was he just crossing the street? I drove slowly looking for blood, trying to determine exactly