Q Is for Quarry

talking about the one where the girl's body was found."
    "How would I know where the body was found?"
    "Oh come on, Iona. Don't play games with me. I don't care if you told him. I just want the information."
    "I might have."
    "You might have, or you did?"
    "All right, I did, but that was years ago. I even took him to see it once when we were out on the road."
    "Did you know Charisse Quinn?"
    "No."
    "Aren't you going to ask who she is?"
    "I'm not stupid. I assume she's the dead girl they found after Cathy Lee was killed. I asked Frankie about that and he says he had nothing to do with that. He didn't even know her."
    "You know, he's not stupid, either. If he killed the girl, he's hardly going to tell you."
    "Why are you so against him? Can't you give the guy a break? He hasn't done anything to you."
    "This isn't about me, Iona. It's about Charisse. Is Frankie there by chance? I'd like to talk to him myself."
    "He took off Friday morning. He was scheduled to work Friday night and had to get back."
    "Short visit, wasn't it?"
    "So what?" she said, annoyed.
    "What'd you tell him about Pudgie?"
    Another silence, during which I could hear her breathing in my ear. "Iona?"
    "If you must know, I told him Pudgie's a fuckin' snitch. He knew somebody had pointed a finger at him. The minute you mentioned Pudgie, I figured it was him."
    "Is that why you were so pissed at him?"
    "I'm not the only one. Frankie's pissed about it, too. Pudgie cut a deal for himself by blaming Frankie for what happened to that girl."
    I felt a whisper of fear, like a millipede, running down my back. "Where'd you get that?"
    "Well, it's true, isn't it?"
    "No."
    "Yes it is, because Frankie checked it out. He knows this guy at the county jail who's serving thirty days? The guy told him Pudgie had a visitor – this woman private eye, who was asking about the murder – that was you, right?"
    "Of course, but Pudgie never made a deal."
    "Yes, he did. You know how I know? He got out of jail the very next day. The guy said."
    "Because his sentence was up. He'd served his time and he was released."
    "Nuhn-un. No way. Pudgie went back to his cell block and bragged to everyone. He said you were doing something special for him. Next thing you know, he got out."
    "He asked me for cigarettes and I said no. That's all it was. There wasn't any deal."
    "Ha, ha, ha. Tell me another one."
    "Would you listen to me? Iona, think about this. I don't have the authority to get him out. How would I do that?"
    "That's not what the guy said."
    "Well, the guy got it wrong. I don't have the power to make a deal with anyone. I'm not a cop. I'm a private citizen just like you."
    She said, "Oh."
    "Yeah, 'oh,'" I snapped. "Next time you talk to Frankie, would you set him straight? If he needs to hear it from me, he can call. In the meantime, layoff Pudgie. He didn't do a thing."
    Exasperated, I returned the handset to the cradle. All we needed was Frankie Miracle on a rampage. I had to admit I was really splitting hairs on this one. Pudgie had most certainly pointed a finger at Frankie, but not in order to make a deal for himself. He was hoping to divert our attention, which he'd succeeded in doing, but only temporarily. Now that his fingerprints had showed up on the stolen vehicle, the focus had shifted back to him. His attempt to implicate Frankie only made his own behavior the more suspect, so in the end, his scheme backfired. Unfortunately, I didn't credit Frankie with an appreciation of the finer points of finking. To him, a rat was a rat. I checked my notes and picked up the phone again, dialing Felicia Clifton's number in Creosote. I didn't even hear the line ring on her end before she said, "Hello?"
    "Felicia? Kinsey Millhone. How are you?"
    "Not good. Cedric hasn't come home and I'm worried sick about him."
    "He hasn't been gone that long, has he? You said he left the house this morning. That's only a few hours."
    "Or he could have gone out last night. All I know is he wasn't here when I got up. Either way, he should have checked in by now. This is not like him."
    "Did you call the tavern? The bartender said he was always there for Happy Hour."
    "Jerry hasn't seen him either. I don't know where he could have gone."
    "Maybe he met a girl and went home with her."
    "I don't think so. I didn't give him any money so he didn't even have enough to buy drinks. My car's still here so he has to be on foot. He could have walked to the tavern, but not anywhere else. You've seen this town.