Page 65 of Evil Bones
“Ruthie, I know this little chat means you no longer view me as cool. But you’re staying in my house, so I feel responsible for your safety.”
Ruthie’s eyes were doing the granddaddy of rolls when my mobile gave forth with theKill Billwhistling clip currently programmed as a ringtone. Ruthie cocked a brow but made no comment.
Again, Slidell’s number filled the screen, so I answered.
“Hold on.”
Pressing the phone to my chest, I asked my niece, “Do you need anything, sweetie?”
“I’m totally cool.”
“Do you have plans for tonight?”
“Hang here, watch some Tube, turn in early.”
Perfect.
“Are we good?” I asked, pointing at her, then at myself.
“Totally,” she said.
“What’s new?” I asked Slidell as I reentered the kitchen.
“The squirrel alibied out.”
“Which squirrel?”
“Bright.Jax”—with a mocking lilt—“claims he went to Orlando on vacation. Says he was there for two weeks, got back yesterday. Who the hell goes to Orlando for fun?”
Knowing the question was rhetorical, I said nothing.
“Anyway, I checked out his story. One credit card told the tale. Gas receipts. Tolls. A charge at the Magic Manse Motel in Kissimmee. A one-week pass to the Magic fucking Kingdom.”
“World.”
“What?”
“It’s Disney World.”
“Don’t matter if it’s Disney freakin’ Universe. I got another possible.”
“Another sex offender?”
“Eeyuh.”
“I think you may be reading more into Dr. Kum—”
“I’ll be interviewing this dirtbag before he has time to take a morning shit.”
“When? Where?”
He told me.
“I’ll be ready,” I said.
Slidell was twenty minutes late. But he’d stopped at a Starbucks for morning coffee, so I couldn’t be too cross.
As I sipped, burning my tongue on liquid registering at least a thousand degrees, Slidell briefed me on our target.
