Read Online Sinner's Ball by Ira Berkowitz - Free Book Online Page B

learn something. You’re more frightened of the lady than the tiger.”
    â€œOr maybe I’m just a piece of plankton at the end of the food chain.”
    â€œFirst time I’ve heard you admit that you’re smalltime,” I said.
    â€œWhen the elephants dance, you gotta be nimble.”
    Could be Terry was smarter than I’d thought.

14
    T he Hampstead was a no-star hotel near One Police Plaza. The price was right, the appointments minimal, and that made it the go-to place to stash witnesses and other people of interest to the NYPD.
    I was there because the girl who’d died in the fire had been identified. A runaway named Angela Klemper. Her parents had come to New York to identify her body and take her home.
    Luce was going to interview them and invited me along.
    She was wearing a dark pantsuit, low heels, and in a shocking departure, a few selected pieces of artful jewelry.
    â€œI see you’re in confidence-building mode,” I said.
    â€œMore like I’m draped in widow’s weeds,” she said. “But nothing says trust better than your basic black.”
    â€œHow’d you manage to arrange my presence?”
    â€œYou’re a special consultant working with the police department to help find the people who murdered their daughter.”
    â€œNever been a consultant before. How much does it pay?”
    That drew a loud snort.
    â€œAnd here I was hoping to make a killing,” I said.
    â€œBad choice of words. These people have been through the mill today, Jackson, they’re kind of skittish. So go easy.”
    â€œWhat’re they like?”
    â€œJonas and Adele. Mother’s mousy and doesn’t say much. Jonas seems to run the show. Major piece of work.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œHis daughter was reduced to a cinder, and he’s the aggrieved party.”
    â€œWhy am I not surprised?”
    The hotel room was about as I’d expected—queen-sized bed, two end tables, couple of chairs, a non-widescreen TV bolted to a dresser made out of pressboard, and a print of a bucolic glen over the bed. Days Inn without the charm.
    The Kemplers sat on the bed with their backs to each other. An interesting bit of body language. But, given the circumstances, understandable. Grief tends to strip the gears of life.
    Adele Klemper was a big-boned woman in a shapeless dark dress. She had dull, bovine eyes, and picked at a scab on her cheek with a fingernail. Jonas wore rumpled beige corduroy slacks and a bulky brown sweater. His face was fleshy and unshaven, and his close-cropped black hair was peppered with gray.
    The television was on. An infomercial promoting a set of knives that could, with a mere few swipes, reduce two-inch-thick steel plate to a pile of shavings seemed to have Jonas’s attention. It had mine, too. I made a mental note to check it out the next time I needed to saw a bowling ball in half.
    Luce made the introductions.
    From then on, things pretty much went downhill.
    Jonas Klemper turned his attention away from the TV and on to me.
    â€œHad enough bullshit today,” he said. “Don’t need more from you.”
    â€œMr. Klemper, I’m truly sorry for your loss. And I promise I’m not going to take up more than a few minutes of your time.”
    â€œYou gonna bring my baby back?”
    â€œI wish I could. But I’ll do my level best to find the person who did this to her. Just a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”
    â€œScrew your questions. I want answers. And so far all I’m getting is bullshit from you people.”
    â€œJonas,” Adele said. “He means well, just—”
    He whirled around.
    â€œDamn it, Adele. Don’t you go telling me what to do. Weren’t for you, none of this would have happened.”
    Adele’s eyes briefly registered a spark of fear. And then went blank. I had the feeling she had been through this before. She lowered her head and