hand.
He smiled and headed her way. She never could guess his age, but suspected he was much younger than he appeared. Life on the streets played out in his appearance as well as in the lack of agility with which he moved.
âThanks, Detective Sanchez.â He took a good long sip before he spoke again. The simple pleasure that coffee brought him broke onto his face. âHavenât seen you in a while.â He held the cup in gloves with the fingers cut off. As usual, heâd concocted a rag-tag mix of Salvation Army clothing store finds to keep him warm.
She didnât know his story but assumed that one day he might tell her. Judging by the fact that he constantly smelled of liquor, she suspected alcoholism was a big part of why he was in this situation.
âBeen busy. You know what they say, a copâs work is never done.â
âI thought they say that about mothers.â
She smiled and considered the unlikely comparison. âMothers, cops, same thing.â
He nodded. âTrue enough.â He took another long sip, which made her glad sheâd bought the extra-large size. âYou need something, Detective?â
âActually, I was hoping you might have seen something.â She drew in a deep breath. âA man was killed in my apartment the other day.â
âI heard something about that.â His gaze shifted first one way then the other before settling back to her.
âCops talk to you?â
âOh, heck no. They think weâre nothing but a bunch of drunks.â He laughed so hard at his joke he started to cough. âI guess theyâre right about that.â
âI know you donât usually hang around past seven or so at night, but I was wondering if you saw anything unusual around my place the last couple of days.â
He rubbed his stubbly face. âNow that you mention it, I saw a truck. At first I thought you were moving out.â He winked. âBut I knew you wouldnât do that without letting me know.â
âAbsolutely.â Shaky, she took a sip of coffee to help settle her nerves. âCould you tell what they were moving?â
âLooked like household stuff, furniture, that kind of thing.â
âWhat day was that?â
âNot sure. I lose track of days on the streets.â He shrugged.
âSure. I get that. Before the moving truck, did you see anything else? Any visitors?â At this point, she hadnât learned anything she didnât already know. Lou and Cynthia moved out while she was at work.
âNot that cop guy you were hanging with. I havenât seen him for a while.â He gave her a smile. âIf you two broke up, it might be time to make my move. I might not be as good-looking as him, but I bet he canât dance like me.â
She laughed. âYouâre probably right about that.â
âBut I did see a couple of other guys. One looked like a punk, the other looked like a cop.â
âWas the cop wearing a uniform?â
Leo shook his head. âNope. But he drove what looked like an unmarked cop car and had on a suit. He sure did smell like a cop, even from a block away.â
âDid he ring the bell or just look around?â She needed some kind of thread to pull this together.
âNope. He went inside. I think he talked to the renter you had on the first floor. You know, the one with the moving truck.â
A weird slither worked its way down her back. âWhat did the cop look like? Anybody on CPD that you know?â
âThis guy wasnât CPD.â He shook his head. âThe guy was about fifty, with graying hair at the temples.â
What was Malone doing talking to Lou a couple of days before her father ended up dead in her apartment?
Chapter Seven
âYou okay, Ms. Detective?â Leo tugged at the sleeve of her coat.
âOh, yeah, sure,â she mumbled, not really sure about anything or anybody right now. It seemed like
Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén
Hilary Storm, Kathy Coopmans