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

Ray and Manchild are simpletons. They can barely dial a phone. I’d be surprised if they had anything to do with anything.” J.T. looked at Rick for encouragement. Rick nodded.
    J.T. continued. “For blow-hards, you’ve got Whizzer, Lap Dog, and Godman. They just like to hear themselves talk. Although they do spout some pretty harsh bullshit from time to time. But killers? Hard to believe. You know?”
    “Yeah. Hard to believe anyone could do this.”
    J.T. dribbled the ball a few times, then picked it up and ran his hands over it. “Now your psychos. No telling what they might do.” J.T. paused.
    “Go on.” Sometimes it was like pulling teeth.
    “Well, I’d put Minnie Mac and Sweet Pete in that group. And Hard Core Harry, definitely. Those dudes are crazy, stand-on-your-head-in-traffic crazy. Nothing they did would surprise me. Make me uncomfortable. In fact, sometimes I’ll give them incorrect times or addresses for our appearances so they won’t show up.” J.T. nodded, as if congratulating himself on his safety precautions. “But still. Murder? That would be hard to believe.”
    Rick was glad J.T. hadn’t fingered any listener as a potential suspect. He didn’t want to believe someone associated with the show could be responsible for such a heinous act.
    “Hey, I forgot about another category. The groupies.” J.T. sported a wide grin.
    “Oh, was that a groupie I saw you talking with in the lobby the other day? You know, the brunette with the t-shirt three sizes too small?”
    J.T.’s face shaded, and not from exertion. “That’s Stripper Susie. And I prefer to think her breasts are three sizes too big.”
    “Be careful, J.T.,” Rick said. “Celia finds out, she won’t like it. Using your position here in order to get laid. Shameful.”
    “I’m just working with her, trying to coax her out of her shell.” J.T.’s grin intensified.
    “Right. Just helping her out a bit.”
    “Well, I try to lend a hand when I can. You know how it is.” He dribbled the basketball between his legs. Back and forth. Back and forth.
    “Yeah, I know.” Rick remembered what it was like to be unattached and on the prowl 24/7. There were radio groupies back in his day—though not as many and not as brazen. And not nearly as many strippers.
    J.T. kept dribbling.
    Rick balled up his fists inside his pockets. “You know a guy named Mike? Kinda creepy. Scar on his forehead.” He touched his head over his eye.
    “Solid guy, always wearing a camo jacket?”
    Rick’s pulse quickened thinking about him. “Yeah, sounds like him. He a regular?”
    “That’s the Nazi Hunter. He called the Rhino a lot, talking about conspiracies and shit like that. He doesn’t call much anymore. I thought maybe he’d moved to South America to get closer to his prey.” J.T. eyed Rick. “Why?”
    “I bumped into him. He freaked me out a little.”
    “Don’t know too much about him, boss. Sorry.” J.T said. “He harass you?”
    “No. Just talked to me. Actually, if I wasn’t on edge, it would have seemed normal.” Or at least not too freaky. “Except…”
    “Except what?”
    “He seemed to know who Livvy was, without me saying anything.”
    J.T. slapped the ball with one hand. “Want me to talk with him?”
    “Naw, I’m probably making too much of it. Forget it.”
    “Well, if you change your mind…” J.T. stared at Rick as he slapped the ball again.
    Rick gave him a single nod. “Thanks. One last question. How do you know so much about these characters?” Rick had talked to these guys on the phone, but he didn’t know enough to slot them into categories. Thank God he had a producer who could stomach dealing with the army of misfits attracted to a call-in show. “Do you socialize with them?”
    “Hell, no. Except the strippers.” J.T. flipped the ball from hand to hand, then held it on his hip. “Boss, they call in all the time. Some of them call every single day. Guess it makes them feel important. Part of