Read Online First Time Killer by Alan Orloff, Zak Allen - Free Book Online

the radio. Show off to their friends. ‘Look at me, I’m a radio hotshot.’ Things have changed, and I don’t think I like what they’ve changed into.” He drained the last bit of his drink, then popped his head up searching for the waitress.
    “Come on. Not all of the interns are like that.”
    “Shit. Even Damon’s like that. Most of the time, I don’t think he cares a whit about delivering the news. All he wants to do is get famous and rich.” Winn shook his head in disgust.
    “Forget Damon.” Rick reached out, touched Winn on the arm. “Got any theories? Why would First Time kill him and then call in to our show? Adams doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.” The detective’s words echoed in Rick’s mind: Danzler was killed because he worked here .
    “Who knows? Wouldn’t surprise me if Celia was behind it all. Killing people to attract listeners. She loves her ratings.” His eyes scanned the bar. “Where’s our girl? Can’t a guy get a drink around here? You’d think with all the business I give them, I’d be assigned my own personal waitress.”
    “Maybe it’s time for us to go. Got another busy day tomorrow. Marty’s called an all-hands meeting.”
    “Fuck Marty. I want another drink.” He glared at Rick. “Okay? That okay with you?”
    “Take it easy, Winn.” Rick lowered his voice, softened it around the edges. “I can stick around a few more minutes. Give you a lift home, too.”
    Winn flagged their server and ordered another scotch. Since Bette died, Winn spent more and more of his time flagging down waitresses and ordering scotch. A return to some of the habits that plagued him when Rick first met the man. Seeing Winn home safely was the least he could do. Small payback for the years of mentorship and ongoing friendship. Despite what happened in New Haven twenty-four years ago, Rick owed Winn Hummel quite a lot.

C HAPTER 12
    R ICK WATCHED AS J.T. drove toward the hoop, then took flight. After spinning a complete 360 degrees, he tomahawked the ball through the basket, hanging on the rim in celebration. Rick clapped as he strode across the parking lot pavement behind the building where someone from a previous radio regime had erected an old basketball hoop. “Terrific. How come you’re here and not playing ball somewhere?”
    J.T. smiled, a bashful boy in a tall, muscular body. “Nine-foot rims help. And there’s not much defense.” He picked the ball up. “Didn’t know you were watching.”
    “Just came out.” Rick dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Aren’t you cold?”
    J.T. wore sweats emblazoned with some NBA team’s logo. A backward baseball cap covered his head. Looked like every twenty-something cruising the shopping malls. “No. Not really. What’s up, boss?”
    “Had a few questions.”
    “Shoot.” J.T. held the ball against his hip with one hand.
    “This whole First Time thing. Got any thoughts?”
    “Thoughts? Like what?” J.T. looked perplexed.
    “Well, do you think any of our regular callers could be involved?” Rick glanced around the parking lot. Only cars and trucks. No other people.
    “That thought did pop into my mind. But…I don’t know. Do you think they are?” J.T.’s eyes widened.
    A small smile formed on Rick’s face. “No. But I don’t really know them. You’re the one always chatting them up on the phone. And the Rhino always dealt with the loonies a lot more than I do.” Rick considered the regular nut-case callers a necessary evil. The Rhino had seemed to relish sparring with them on-air.
    “Yeah. Let me think.” J.T. stared off into space. He took a moment to organize his thoughts. “Well, I suppose you can divide most of them into three types: simpletons, blow-hards, and psychos. Not real psychos, just guys that have a few screws loose. I don’t think they’re really dangerous.” He shrugged and plowed on, his tone becoming more authoritative now that he was talking about his area of expertise. “Johnnie