Read Online Sacrifice Fly by Tim O'Mara - Free Book Online Page B

after making him pout. He gave me a smile, and we clinked glasses.
     All made up.
    “So,” he said. “Whatta you do next?”
    “About what?”
    “The missing kids.” He lowered his voice. “And the dead guy. What’s your next move?”
    “Edgar, you are this close”—I held my forefinger an inch away from my thumb—“to getting
     knocked off your stool.”
    I didn’t think he heard me. “You’re just going to let the cops handle it?”
    “That’s what they get paid to do, Edgar. Some of them are pretty good at it.”
    “Yeah, but if they don’t get anywhere by the weekend, it’s old news. Even I know that.”
    He had a point there, but I’d be damned if I admitted it. Anyway, what the hell was
     I going to do?
    “Edgar,” I said, “I gave up my dreams of being Jim Rockford a while ago. Pretty much
     after I figured out he got his ass kicked every time I watched a rerun.”
    “I always wanted to be Barney,” Edgar said. “From Mission: Impossible .”
    “Good luck with that,” I said. “Grow the fuck up.”
    “Here’s what I think we should do,” he went on. “First—”
    “Edgar, I swear to god, if you don’t drop this, I’ll not only knock you on your ass,
     I’ll ban you from the Q.”
    He studied my face for a few seconds, looking for signs that I was bluffing. When
     he finally summoned the courage to speak again, he said, “You wouldn’t do that. You
     promised.”
    “Watch me,” I said. “Leave it alone. I’m serious about this.”
    We locked eyes for a bit, and then he said, “Fine.” He got off his barstool, took
     back his paper, and folded it under his arm. He reached into his pocket and pulled
     out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll pay for my own drinks, thank you very much.” And with
     those final words, Edgar Martinez O’Brien spun around and exited The LineUp.
    Mikey came over and said, “Damn, Ray. What’d ya say to get him to storm out like that?”
    “Could have been a couple of things, I guess.”
    “Well,” Mikey said as he cleared away Edgar’s unfinished beer, “if you remember any
     of them, tell me so I can try them sometime.”
    I managed a small grin as he placed another Bud in front of me. I felt a small sense
     of regret for the way I’d spoken to Edgar, but it passed.
    Can’t stand the heat? Stay the hell out of cop bars.

 
    Chapter 7
    “YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT a cup?” I placed my coffee mug down by my grade book. “I’ve got plenty.”
    “I’m fine,” Lisa King’s father said, making sure I knew he was the kind of guy who
     took nothing from nobody.
    He was sitting in the biggest chair I had, which was too small for him. He kept his
     hands on the table, and I could see the grease under his fingernails. He wore a blue
     denim shirt, “East River Boat” stitched above the left breast pocket. On the other
     side was his name, “William K,” written in red script. Judging from the flecks of
     gray in his short Afro, I figured he had about eight years on me. He smelled of smoke,
     like someone who smokes in their car with the windows shut. I opened up the nearest
     window as far as it would go and then sat down across from Lisa’s father.
    “I’m not sure why Ms. Stiles called me out of work, Mr. Donne,” he said, as he looked
     at his watch. “Lisa’s mom usually handles all the school stuff. Said you didn’t even
     call her.”
    “Right,” I said, ignoring his point. “And I am sorry to cut into your day like this,
     but we have some concerns about Lisa that we felt might be better addressed with you.”
    He considered that with a nod and a grimace. “She step into it again?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Then what?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him. “Exactly.”
    I had decided earlier to start off with the academics, then work up to the big stuff.
    “Well,” I began, “it’s not one particular incident, it’s more of a series of…” This
     is why I don’t dance. I’m not good at it. “We’re