Read Online Compulsion by Jonathan Kellerman - Free Book Online

twice.”
    “Nope.”
    “Who’s responsible for locking the chain at four thirty?”
    “Me.” Chacon licked his lips. “And I did it.”
    “What if a car comes back after four thirty?”
    “If it’s from the main lot, they unlock and put it in.”
    “That happen often?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “What about last night?”
    Chacon got up and opened a file cabinet next to a watercooler. Miss January smiled down as he leafed through folders.
    “Yesterday was no bring-backs. Right now, we only got one car out, period. Black Phantom over to the L’Ermitage on Burton. Some Arab sheik and his driver are using it for three weeks.”
    “Business is slow?”
    “It comes and goes.” Chacon’s eyes took another ride, this time from side to side.
    Milo said, “Anyone come by recently, show interest in the cars?”
    “Nope.”
    “Know why we’re asking these questions, sir?”
    “Nope. Sir.”
    “The car was used in a murder.”
    Chacon blinked twice. “You’re kidding. Who got murdered?”
    “A nice old lady.”
    “That’s bad.”
    “Real bad,” said Milo. “She mighta been killed by a not-so-nice old man.” He described the blue-capped killer.
    “No way,” said Chacon, over the music.
    “You think it’s impossible an old guy would do something like that?”
    “No, what I’m saying is I never saw no one like that.”
    “How about anyone walking around the lot, checking out the wheels?”
    Chacon shook his head. “It’s real quiet here, the only time someone comes is when a car’s broke and the main lot sends a mechanic.”
    Milo turned off the music. The silence made Chacon blink repeatedly.
    “No one loitered. Or just hung around? Anyone, even a homeless guy?”
    “For sure no.”
    “For sure?”
    “There was someone I’d tell you.” Chacon reached for the radio dial. Thought better of it.
    Milo said, “’Cause you want to cooperate.”
    “Yeah.”
     
    We returned to the car. Running Chacon’s name through the system brought up a Boyle Heights address, no outstanding wants or warrants. Three arrests ten years ago.
    Two gang-related assaults and a burglary pled down to petty theft, all in Rampart Division.
    “Old gangbanger,” I said.
    “That’s who they put in charge of hot wheels.”
    “He moved to a new neighborhood, works a straight job.”
    “Reformed?”
    “It happens.”
    “But you think not,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “That question about the new lock. You’re wondering if he forgot to bolt up, found the chain down this morning, bought a replacement.”
    “Mind reader,” I said. “Also, his eyes moved a lot.”
    “Goddamn pinball machine. Maybe it’s worse and someone paid him to leave the chain off last night.”
    “Or the killer picked it,” I said. “Cheap drugstore crap.”
    He looked over at the shack. “A guy with Chacon’s past is wise to the drill, he’s got no motivation to give anything up. I get closer to the bad guy, I can come back with leverage, offer him a break on aiding and abetting.”
    Once,
not
if.
    Nice to see him thinking about the future.

CHAPTER 7
    The meeting with Antoine Beverly’s parents was set for noon the following day.
    When I got to Milo’s office, a note on the door said
A: Rm. 6.
    Largest room, at the end of the corridor. An
Interview in Progress: Do Not Disturb
sign dangled from the doorknob.
    I knocked once and went in.
    A middle-aged black couple sat across the table from Milo. A wallet-sized photo of a boy was placed in front of the woman and after she appraised me, her attention returned to the image.
    The man next to her wore a stiff brown suit, a white shirt, and a gold tie secured by a silver clip. An American flag pin rode his lapel. His gray hair was tight; in front it faded to skin. Under a white thread of a mustache, his smile was obligatory.
    The woman had on a charcoal pantsuit. High waved hair was one shade darker than her clothes. She drew away from the photo with reluctance and placed her hands