Read Online When Last Seen Alive by Gar Anthony Haywood - Free Book Online Page B

so anxious to get her hands on. But Gunner had hired Sly primarily because he seemed so responsible; surely the investigator would have heard from the kid by now if he had seen, let alone photographed, any tryst between Gil Everson and the strung-out, gimpy black prostitute his wife was somehow convinced he was seeing.
    All the same, Gunner would have gone out looking for Sly personally had he not had more pressing matters to attend to. Like finding out what motive a character like Johnny Frerotte could have possibly had for kidnapping, and perhaps even murdering, Elroy Covington. Gunner already had an idea how this might be accomplished, just as his friend Poole had suspected, but he wanted to talk to someone first, give her a chance to address the question before he tried something illegal that could conceivably cost him his license.
    And he wanted to see Yolanda McCreary again, in any case.
    They ended up eating a late lunch at a sports bar and restaurant called the Grand Slam, down in the lobby of the Airport Marriott where McCreary was staying. A midweek lunch hour crowd was waiting for them, creating a wall of sound that left them little to do but make small talk during their meal. Having to defer any meaningful conversation until they could retire to the hotel bar was an inconvenience Gunner hadn’t counted on, but he wasn’t really complaining. McCreary had come down from her room looking radiant and relaxed, even more alluring than when the investigator had last seen her, so the patience to put off the questions he had come here to ask was not particularly hard to find.
    She was something called a “LAN administrator.” Thirty-two years old, divorced, no children. Graduated from Michigan State with a BA in computer science in ’85. Liked to read Nikki Giovanni on rainy days, and never saw an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie in her life. She was dating someone back home in Chicago, a fireman named Ken, but the relationship didn’t seem to be going anywhere, she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say why. She laughed once in forty minutes, reacting to something Gunner said about the food, just to show him she knew how.
    He could feel himself being drawn to her like an infatuated schoolboy.
    When at last their meal was over and they had moved to the more quiet environs ofthe hotel bar, where Gunner nursed a Wild Turkey neat, and McCreary a 7&7, Gunner asked her if the name Johnny Frerotte meant anything to her.
    McCreary said it didn’t.
    “How about Barber Jack?”
    “Barber Jack? What kind of name is that?”
    Gunner gave her some background on Frerotte, asked her again if the name sounded familiar.
    “No. God, no,” McCreary said. “Why do you ask?”
    Cushioning the blow as best he could, Gunner said, “It’s beginning to look as if Frerotte might’ve had something to do with your brother’s disappearance. A witness saw him visit Elroy at his motel room, he was apparently the last person Elroy was with that night.”
    “Oh, my God.”
    “But I wouldn’t read too much into that just yet. All we know right now is that they were together.”
    “But you said this man—”
    “Is dangerous. Yeah, I did. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Jack harmed him in any way.”
    McCreary nodded, not the least bit reassured.
    “You wouldn’t have any idea what Frerotte might’ve wanted with your brother?” Gunner asked.
    “Me?” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t begin to guess.”
    “Because Jack’s not a thief by reputation. Snatching a tourist with a fat wallet and then making him disappear afterward doesn’t sound like his kind of action.”
    “So?”
    “So I don’t think it was money that brought them together. At least, not Elroy’s money. Jack must’ve been after something else.”
    McCreary didn’t say anything, seemingly unaware that he was looking to her for some response.
    “But you don’t know what that something else could have been,” he finally said.
    McCreary looked up, drawn from a