Slow Burn by Terrence McCauley Page A

money, in the near term.”
    She hawked and spat again. “Oh, that’s a good one, mister. Where have I heard that one before?”
    “But you haven’t heard it from me. Money doesn’t mean much to some people, so they don’t mind being generous with it. And the kid who lives in 3A comes from such people.” I raised the picture again so she could see it. “But I’ll bet you already knew that.”
    She looked at the picture, then at me. She crossed her arms in front of her, making her fleshy arms look even bigger.
    “Didn’t say I did, and I didn’t say I didn’t.” I put the picture away. Once again, charm wasn’t working.
    “The longer you stall, the less money you get. Tell me about the man in 3A.”
    She looked up and down the street before she said anything. I half expected the old bitch to spit again, but she didn’t. “Name’s Jack. Don’t know his last name ‘cause I didn’t rent the place to him. The landlord did. Called here one day and told me to show the place to him. I did and he rented it. That was about three months back.”
    That fit with what Soames had told me. “Who’s the landlord?”
    “How the hell should I know? Some company bought the place from my brother-in-law a year ago. Company keeps changing names so much, I can’t keep track of it anymore.” That made sense. Landlords were always changing names of their companies to confuse the tax collectors. I decided to stick to why I was here in the first place. “Tell me about Jack from 3A.”
    “Not much to tell. Pays his rent on time. Comes in the late afternoon and goes back out late evenings or early mornings. Always quiet. Respectful, near as I can tell.”
    “He ever have company?”
    The old lady jerked her chin up at me. “I’m not one for spyin’ on my tenants, Mister.”
    I pushed my hat further back on my head and smiled. “Then that makes you the first landlady in history who doesn’t.”
    She looked up and down the street again. “Jack’s got lots of friends. A lady friend in particular who’s here with him all the time.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not that I condone that sort of thing, mind you, but the bastard who owns this place told me to keep my mouth shut. He said so long as Jack’s money is green and on time, he can do what he likes short of burning the place down.”
    I pulled out my notebook from my back pocket and began writing this down.
    “Tell me about the lady friend.”
    “Young,” she said. “Younger than Jack, but not by much. Long, stringy black hair that could use a good combing. Never saw a speck of powder or paint on her. Never looks you in the eye, either. Scuttles about like a meek little mouse, always looking at the ground. Could be a pretty little thing if she gave it half a chance. Kind of smarmy, if you ask me.”
    I wrote most of it down. The description didn’t match Jessica Van Dorn. Sounded more like it could be the girlfriend Soames had told me about. Rachel. But that didn’t make it so.
    “This mouse got a name?”
    The landlady hawked again and spat. “The girl ain’t exactly the type who’s got what you might call manners.”
    I turned and watched the spit clear the curb and land in the gutter. Impressive as hell. “Kids today. Think anyone’s up in Jack’s place now?”
    “Don’t think so,” she said, “but like I told you…”
    “You’re not one to spy on your tenants.” I smiled. “Got a key?”
    The landlady took a step back from me. “Why? Jack in some kind of trouble?”
    “Not at all,” I lied. I knew that one word from her to the landlord and news about Jack’s kidnapping would be all over town. That’d happen soon enough once Loomis called it in. Leads from every wacko in the city would come pouring in soon after. “Jack’s father hasn’t seen him in a week or so and he’s looking for him. He’s asked me to check in on him to make sure he’s okay.”
    She waived me off. “Aw, hell, he’s fine. Saw him the mornin’ before last. He was in