Inherit the Dead

made you excited and furious and frustrated all at once, and it’s not just the waiting and following, but the feelings you’ve stored up like a hive of bees buzzing in your brain.
    But you’re cool, no one can tell, walking slow, acting normal, smiling when people pass, some smiling back, no idea of the murderous thoughts that are going through your mind, thinking how you will do whatever you need to do, how you will not let anyone get in the way, the whole time tamping down the feeling that you are going to explode.
    You watched the PI go to that garage again and then to see that politician, and you wondered what that could be about and if it will help you get closer to your destination—to your destiny. But you just get back into the rental car and drive down the lonely stretch of highway, driving as the sun sets and you hold on, clinging to the idea that soon, soon you will have it all.

11
KEN BRUEN
    P erry cursed. Damn if he wasn’t in a foul mood, all this driving, all these unanswered questions and not any closer to finding Angel.
    The East Hampton cop was still unavailable, so he’d decided to pay Norman Loki a surprise visit, tell him they’d found his daughter’s car but not his daughter. Not exactly good news.
    Growing dark now as he drove back up to the Montauk house. His car seemed embarrassed to be asked to appear in such surroundings. A PI’s car that harked back to the glory days of Rockford.
    Save Perry was no Jim Garner. Not even close. Past forty, he felt it, the driving, the garage brawl, the past two days of interviews had drained him, dealing with liars and, yeah, scum.
    Scum like Randy Hyde. And now that politico creep, Tweed.
    Would test the best of men.
    Perry was not even close to his best, whatever that was. This acidic line of thought always led to the shame, the dismissal from the force and all the other cluster fucks of his life.
    Being a cop, straight out, he’d freaking loved it. Was proud to carry the shield. His ex, Noreen, used to accuse, “You don’t bend Perry, you’re too . . . rigid .”
    Not the first time he heard that. But it enraged him even now, like being honest was a crime. Fuck it, maybe he’d been too honest.
    His buddies on the sheet, taking firstly nickel-and-dime crap, moving on up, and fast, to serious shit, serious dirt.
    A dirty cop.
    Hung that on him, Jesus H. Christ, not as much as a damn burger on the lam and Internal sneering:
    “Count yer blessings, pal, you ain’t doing time.”
    Doing time?!
    Like having that jacket for the rest of his woebegone life, like that wasn’t a sentence?
    His ex. Believe this? Saying to his daughter, who was all of nine years old then, “Daddy’s a crook.” Okay, not exactly Noreen’s words, but close enough.
    You wanna talk criminal?
    Yeah, her goddamn lawyer, that’s who.
    Perry could feel it, all the bile and self-pity and, yes, fury he always tried so damn hard to keep under wraps rising. Damn, he was tired.
    And now he had to deal with this damn lawyer with his damn house on the beach, and, like, did the guy even give a toss about his daughter? He hardly seemed upset last time he’d been out here.
    Perry mentally composed himself, willed steel into his eyes, thought Today, buddy—trust me—today you are going to give a damn!
    But hell, was he just thinking about himself, about the fact that he’d lost his daughter and his wife along with his shield and still wasn’t over it, never would be?
    He looked up at the house, even on this drab, cold, February eve, the house seemed to whisper, Yo, dipshit, this ain’t never . . . ever going to be your abode.
    Right on the bluff overlooking the beach, and, fuck, a pool. You had the whole goddamn ocean—you needed a pool?
    Perry parked and walked over to have a look. Something floating on the water’s surface . . . Jesus, couldn’t be . . . used condoms? Like, wouldn’t they . . . sink? What the hell sort of pool parties was Norman Loki throwing?
    Shook himself, Get straight . Forget the damn pool. Forget your own bitterness. Stick to the case.
    Perry looked up. Saw a face at the window.
    Loki?
    Last visit, Loki had been alone. Except for the Adonis trainer.
    But hell, why did he feel like this was a goddamn contest? Just ’cause the guy didn’t seem to care, didn’t make him guilty. Or did it? Maybe Perry just wanted to fight with a man, a father, who had it all and didn’t seem to give a shit.
    This time, Perry had ammunition: the interview with