Read Online Phantom Prey by John Sandford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Sandford
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some addresses in Uptown, and the man mentioned by Mobry, Karl Lageson, also lived around there.
He glanced at his watch. Still early.
Lucas got Lageson's address from the duty guy at the BCA, found it, a redbrick apartment house with a rack of bicycles outside, knocked on the door, was a little surprised when it popped open.
Lageson was a tall pale man with a black ponytail, probably thirty, and did look a little like a Lurch. He was cooking chunks of white fish in a cast-i ron skillet; the fish sizzling in the background when he opened the door. He pulled Lucas inside so he could attend the skillet, and he seemed to know what he was doing, expertly wielding a pair of stainless tongs as he shuffled the fish in and out of the hot oil.
"I didn't talk to the police about her--the fairy girl--but I suppose I should have," he said as he worked, licking hot grease from his thumb. "I mean, Dick was a big guy and this woman was really small. If she'd tried to stab him he would have thrown her in the river . . . but, I should have mentioned it. It just seemed ridiculous. I could get somebody in trouble and she was just such a . . . a harmless thing."
"You'd never seen her before?" Lucas asked.
Lageson stooped to look in his oven window, then stood up and said, "No, I would have paid attention. She looked really nice."
"How old?"
"Early twenties? Looked like a dancer. Moved like a dancer. Dressed like a dancer, when I think about it. All black, but not drab, you know? Likes clothes. Got some money. She was laughing at Dick's jokes . . . but then, and this is why I never got around to calling your men--she was gone before Dick got off. Like an hour before closing time."
"You didn't talk to her?"
"No. Didn't have a chance," he said.
"You talk to Dick about her?"
"No, I had some friends there . . . you know, this whole thing with the fairy, it lasted about ten minutes. That was it. Never saw her before, never saw her again." He opened the cover again, and the odor of baking bread suffused the room. "You like French bread?"
"Well, yeah, I do," Lucas said.
They ate hot French bread with real butter, and drank fresh-ground coffee, and Lageson ate his fish; the place smelled wonderfully of good food, all over a background of old marijuana smoke. Lageson knew Frances Austin, he said, may have seen her the night before she disappeared. "We tended to go to the same places, you know, and I chatted with her. She seemed like a nice person. No electricity, though. Between us, I mean."
"Did she have anything going on with anybody?"
Lageson hesitated and Lucas saw it. He said, "C'mon. You didn't tell us about the fairy girl. You owe us."
"I just don't like . . ."
"Cops?"
"Not that," he said. He pushed a saltshaker around with his index finger. "I don't like to feel like a rat. Get somebody in trouble when I have no idea of whether they deserve it."
"We're trying to catch a cold-blooded killer," Lucas said, snaffling another piece of bread off the plate between them. "I wouldn't hang that on anyone who's not guilty. On the other hand, I wouldn't want you to throw a red herring out there, either--piss on somebody you don't like by siccing me on them."
Lageson watched Lucas butter the bread, then said, "I wouldn't do that."
"Good. So what do you got?" Lucas asked. "You got something."
"I saw her and Denise Robinson running around a lot together--in a busy way, like they were up to something. Denise's boyfriend was in there, too. Mark McGuire. I don't know what they were up to, but they were hanging out."
"Thank you," Lucas said. Lageson had given him a red linen napkin, and he dabbed his lips with it, wiping away the butter. "You don't know what it was?"
"No idea. Maybe nothing. But they were hanging out."
"In a busy way."
Lageson, Lucas decided, as he was leaving, was a pretty good guy, though he might have smoked too much dope; Lucas met a surprising number of good guys while he was running around chasing crooks. They usually
He glanced at his watch. Still early.
Lucas got Lageson's address from the duty guy at the BCA, found it, a redbrick apartment house with a rack of bicycles outside, knocked on the door, was a little surprised when it popped open.
Lageson was a tall pale man with a black ponytail, probably thirty, and did look a little like a Lurch. He was cooking chunks of white fish in a cast-i ron skillet; the fish sizzling in the background when he opened the door. He pulled Lucas inside so he could attend the skillet, and he seemed to know what he was doing, expertly wielding a pair of stainless tongs as he shuffled the fish in and out of the hot oil.
"I didn't talk to the police about her--the fairy girl--but I suppose I should have," he said as he worked, licking hot grease from his thumb. "I mean, Dick was a big guy and this woman was really small. If she'd tried to stab him he would have thrown her in the river . . . but, I should have mentioned it. It just seemed ridiculous. I could get somebody in trouble and she was just such a . . . a harmless thing."
"You'd never seen her before?" Lucas asked.
Lageson stooped to look in his oven window, then stood up and said, "No, I would have paid attention. She looked really nice."
"How old?"
"Early twenties? Looked like a dancer. Moved like a dancer. Dressed like a dancer, when I think about it. All black, but not drab, you know? Likes clothes. Got some money. She was laughing at Dick's jokes . . . but then, and this is why I never got around to calling your men--she was gone before Dick got off. Like an hour before closing time."
"You didn't talk to her?"
"No. Didn't have a chance," he said.
"You talk to Dick about her?"
"No, I had some friends there . . . you know, this whole thing with the fairy, it lasted about ten minutes. That was it. Never saw her before, never saw her again." He opened the cover again, and the odor of baking bread suffused the room. "You like French bread?"
"Well, yeah, I do," Lucas said.
They ate hot French bread with real butter, and drank fresh-ground coffee, and Lageson ate his fish; the place smelled wonderfully of good food, all over a background of old marijuana smoke. Lageson knew Frances Austin, he said, may have seen her the night before she disappeared. "We tended to go to the same places, you know, and I chatted with her. She seemed like a nice person. No electricity, though. Between us, I mean."
"Did she have anything going on with anybody?"
Lageson hesitated and Lucas saw it. He said, "C'mon. You didn't tell us about the fairy girl. You owe us."
"I just don't like . . ."
"Cops?"
"Not that," he said. He pushed a saltshaker around with his index finger. "I don't like to feel like a rat. Get somebody in trouble when I have no idea of whether they deserve it."
"We're trying to catch a cold-blooded killer," Lucas said, snaffling another piece of bread off the plate between them. "I wouldn't hang that on anyone who's not guilty. On the other hand, I wouldn't want you to throw a red herring out there, either--piss on somebody you don't like by siccing me on them."
Lageson watched Lucas butter the bread, then said, "I wouldn't do that."
"Good. So what do you got?" Lucas asked. "You got something."
"I saw her and Denise Robinson running around a lot together--in a busy way, like they were up to something. Denise's boyfriend was in there, too. Mark McGuire. I don't know what they were up to, but they were hanging out."
"Thank you," Lucas said. Lageson had given him a red linen napkin, and he dabbed his lips with it, wiping away the butter. "You don't know what it was?"
"No idea. Maybe nothing. But they were hanging out."
"In a busy way."
Lageson, Lucas decided, as he was leaving, was a pretty good guy, though he might have smoked too much dope; Lucas met a surprising number of good guys while he was running around chasing crooks. They usually
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