Read Online The Dead Detective by William Heffernan - Free Book Online Page A

to now?” Vicky asked. “The strip club?”
    “First we check the street for Darlene’s Taurus, then the strip club,” Harry said.
    Vicky paused a beat. “While we’re checking for the car, let’s drive around the neighborhood a little more? I’m not familiar with this part of Tampa and I’d like to be.”
    “I’m familiar with it,” Harry said. “I lived a couple of streets away until I was ten years old.”
    Vicky wondered if this was why he had seemed so tense while coming here. She decided now was the time to find out. “Show me,” she said.
    Harry drove through the neighborhood, his mood suddenly distant; his body language setting up a shield between them. You’d make a lousy criminal, Harry Doyle, Vicky thought. Your emotions come off you like sweat.
    Vicky studied the streets as they drove. It was a typical lower-middle-class neighborhood, each house, each apartment building in a varying state of repair, each announcing the degree of affluence of the people who lived within its walls. The main streets were much the same, a neat block adjacent to one where the sidewalks and gutters were littered with debris. There were lower-end shops and Mom-and-Pop stores, all announcing sales in their windows. There were fast-food chains and discount clothing and shoe stores, all still open late into the evening, racks of clothes and tables of shoes out on the sidewalks. Harry slowed as they passed a small evangelical church and Vicky looked across the front seat and saw that he was staring at it.
    “Your church as a kid?” she asked.
    “My mother’s church. She was always there for something.”
    “She didn’t drag you along?”
    She watched as Harry shook his head, saying nothing.
    “You’re lucky. We were Greek Orthodox, and there was always something going on. My mother dragged me to everything. When I was a teenager it drove me nuts.” She laughed. “Now I don’t go at all. Probably the result of being dragged there so much.” She smiled at the memory. “So where did you live?”
    She was still smiling when she looked back at Harry, but the smile died quickly when she saw the cold, hard look in his eyes.
    “What?” she asked.
    “What’s all this crap about wanting to see where I lived?” They were stopped at a light, and he was looking straight into her eyes. His voice was still soft, but so cold Vicky could almost feel the icy vapor rising from the words.
    “Hey, it’s nothing special. I was just curious,” she said.
    “You wanna see where the dead detective got his name, is that it?” Again, the ice in his voice almost made her shiver.
    Vicky began to stammer. “Jesus, no … I mean … I didn’t know it had anything to do with that.”
    “Alright, forget it,” Harry said. The light had turned green, and he turned his attention back to the road and drove. “Let’s get back to work and forget all the other crap.”
    They drove in silence for almost ten minutes before Vicky spoke again. “Look, Harry, I didn’t know I was getting into your baggage back there. I’m sorry if I went someplace I shouldn’t have gone. We’ve all got baggage we don’t want to talk about.”
    She could see his jaw tighten, and wondered if she had gone too far again.
    “So what’s your baggage?” he said at length.
    His words had a challenge in them, and she knew if they were going to have any success as partners she had to answer. She was sure Harry knew that too.
    “A week from Saturday I was supposed to get married in that Greek Orthodox church I was telling you about.”
    “So you decided not to.” Harry spoke the words dismissively.
    Vicky paused. “No, I didn’t decide anything. He decided.”
    Harry glanced at her, then back at the road. There had been a look of regret in his eyes and she realized that it was as much of an apology as anyone would ever get from Harry Doyle.
    “Guy was obviously a jerk,” Harry said at length.
    “Thanks,” Vicky said. “But I think he just realized