Read Online Cat on a Cold Tin Roof by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page A

sadly. “I’ll never understand why you don’t ride a horse and carry a six-gun.” Then: “Yes, that’s pretty much all I know about Palanto. Clearly you’re about to tell me more.”
    â€œHe didn’t exactly retire when he moved here and became Malcolm Pepperidge,” I said.
    Simmons looked surprised. “He kept working for the mob in Chicago? Now, that’s interesting.”
    I shook my head. “He kept his word and never worked for them again. But either he missed the work or he missed the rewards, because he began doing the same thing for a Bolivian drug cartel.”
    He stared long and hard at me. “Okay, I give up. Who told you?”
    â€œEver hear of Val Sorrentino?” I said.
    â€œYou’re traveling in rough company, Eli. He’s one of the mob’s enforcers.” He frowned. “What the hell’s he doing in town?” The frown vanished. “Of course! The mob sent him here to make sure Palanto couldn’t testify!”
    â€œNow that you’ve solved the murder, do you want to hear what I know or not?” I said.
    â€œShoot,” he said, and then added: “You should pardon the expression.”
    â€œSorrentino was sent here by his bosses to sound Palanto out, to see if he was going to testify. He told them a day or two before the murder that Palanto was safe and dependable, that they had nothing to worry about.”
    Simmons stared at me. “You believe that?”
    â€œI do.”
    He took a deep breath, then pushed it out so that his lips vibrated. He sounded like a horse that just came back after a hard six furlongs. “You’re too good a cop—”
    â€œDetective,” I interrupted him.
    â€œYou’re too good at either to believe it based just on what you told me. What else should I know?”
    â€œThis is confidential, right?” I said.
    He nodded his head. “Right.”
    â€œJim, the word I get is that he held back ten million dollars from the Bolivians. They’re in town to get it back.”
    â€œSo they killed him?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if they had a reason to.”
    Simmons frowned again. “Then he didn’t steal ten million?”
    â€œI’m assuming he did.”
    He looked totally confused. “Then they did have a reason to off him.”
    â€œThey had a reason to be here,” I said. “They had a reason to want their millions back if Sorrentino is correct about how much Palanto siphoned off. But until they knew where he hid the money, they had every reason to keep him alive and absolutely no reason to kill him.”
    â€œSomething’s missing here,” said Simmons. “Maybe they knew where the money was and then killed him and grabbed it—or grabbed it and killed him.”
    I shook my head. “Not a chance.”
    â€œOkay, why not?” he asked.
    â€œThey’re still in town, and that means they don’t know where the money is.”
    Simmons stared at me for a long moment. “But you know,” he said at last.
    â€œI know where at least some of it is,” I said.
    â€œWell?” he demanded.
    â€œIt’s why Velma—Mrs. Pepperidge—paid me a hundred times what the cat was worth to find it and had me arrested when I brought it back without its collar.”
    He looked disbelievingly at me. “What was the fucking thing made of?”
    â€œLeather. But it was studded with what looked like rhinestones, but which according to Sorrentino were actually diamonds—and that’s why I know that whoever killed him didn’t know what the collar was worth. Whether it was the Bolivians or someone else, why not just shoot the cat too, and remove the collar?”
    â€œSo you think that’s why the Bolivians are still in town?” asked Simmons.
    â€œCan you think of any other reason?” I shot back.
    â€œAnd I assume