Read Fiddlers for Free Online

that?�
    �Well, you said he was a loser.�
    �One thing has nothing to do with the other. I�m in jail, for example, but I�m not necessarily a loser.�
    Parker nodded sympathetically.
    �But this second husband was a loser, you said.�
    �A loser, how?� Genero asked.
    �Bad investments, like that. Also, he did dope.�
    �Ah,� Parker said. �And Alicia?�
    �She dabbled.�
    �Ah.�
    �What�s his name? The second husband?�
    �Ricky Montero. For Ricardo.�
    �A spic?� Parker said.
    �Dominican.�
    �What kind of bad investments?�
    �You name them.�
    �Is he still here in this country, or did he go back home?�
    �Who knows? She divorced him, it�s got to be ten, twelve years ago. I never liked him. He played trumpet.�
    �Is that why you didn�t like him?�
    �I got nothing against trumpet players. I�m just saying he played trumpet, is all.�
    �So that�s the bad company she kept, right?� Genero said. �These two husbands. Al Dalton and Ricky Montero.�
    �I didn�t say �bad.� That�s your word.�
    �You said half of her friends should be in here doing time.�
    �That don�t make them bad.�
    �No, that makes them sweethearts.�
    �I�m doing time, and I ain�t bad.�
    �No, all you did was stab somebody twelve years ago, and then stab somebody else, right here in jail, two years ago.�
    �That don�t make you bad at all,� Genero said.
    �That makes you an angel,� Parker said.
    �You done breaking my balls? Cause I don�t know who killed my sister, and I don�t give a shit who did.�
    �Sit down,� Parker said.
    �Sit down,� Genero said.
    �Tell us who these other friends of hers were.�
    �From days of yore.�
    �These people who should be in here doing time.�
    �My sister started young,� Hendricks said.
    �Started what young? Dabbling in dope?�
    �Started everything young. You consider thirteen early?�
    �You consider junior high early?�
    �That would�ve been Mercer, right? You both went to the same junior high, right?�
    �I was a year behind her.�
    �Where�d she go after she left high school?�
    �She got a job. My father was dead, my mother��
    �Job doing what?�
    �Waitressing.�
    �Where, would you know?�
    �A neighborhood restaurant.�
    �What neighborhood?�
    �The Laurelwood section of Riverhead.�
    �That where you were living at the time?�
    �That�s where.�
    �Remember the name of the restaurant?�
    �Sure. Rocco�s.�
    �What�d you do after high school?�
    �I went to jail.�
    The detectives looked at each other.
    �I was sixteen when I took my first fall.�
    �What for?�
    �Aggravated assault. I�ve been in and out all my life. Fifty-four years old, if I spent twenty of those years on the outside, that�s a lot.�
    �Tell us some more about these friends of your sister�s.�
    �Go ask her husbands,� Hendricks said.
    * * * *
    Kling was hovering.
    It was close to eight P.M. and he was still in the squadroom, wandering from the watercooler to the bulletin board, glancing toward Carella�s desk, where he was busy rereading his DD reports, trying to make some sense of this damn case. Strolling over to the open bank of windows, Kling looked down into the street at the early evening traffic, shot another covert glance at Carella, walked back to his own desk, began typing, stopped typing, stood up, stretched, started wandering the room again, hovering. Something was on the man�s mind, no question.
    Carella looked up at the clock.
    �I�d better get out of here,� he said.
    �Me, too,� Kling answered, too eagerly, and immediately went to Carella�s desk. �How�s it going?� he asked.
    �Nothing yet,� Carella said. �But we�re on it.�
    �Give it time,� Kling said.
    Idle talk. Not at all what was really on his mind.
    �Sure,� Carella said.
    Both men fell silent. Kling pulled up a chair, sat. �Mind if I ask you