Devil’s Waltz. By: Jonathan Kellerman

banana.” Gabray chuckled.

And his was brown.”

“Yeah. Hey, if this is so important, how come you’re not writing it

down?”

“What else do you remember about him, Robert?”

“That’s it.”

“Middle-aged, dark windbreaker, dark hair. That’s not much to trade

with, Robert.”

“I’m telling you what I saw, man.”

Milo turned his back on Gabray and looked at me. “Well, we tried to

help him.”

“You got someone, like tight?” said the bartender.

Milo kept his back turned. “What do you mean, Robert?”

“Tight case, man. I don’t want to be telling you something and have

some dude walk on some Miranda or something and come looking for me,

you know?”

“You haven’t told me much, Robert.”

“You got someone tight?”

Milo pivoted slowly and faced him. “What I got is you, Robert, trying

to jerk me around, withholding evidence on top of that brick in your

trunk. I figure six months minimum-get the wrong judge, you might even

be talking a year or so.”

Gabray held out his hands. “Hey, I just don’t want someone walking and

coming after me. This guy was.

“What?”

Gabray was silent.

“This guy was what, Robert?”

A con okay? He looked like serious business. A hard-case “You could

tell that from far away?”

“Some things you can tell, okay? The way he stood, I dunno. He had

these shoes-big and ugly, like you get in the joint.”

“You could see his shoes?”

“Not up close-the light. But they were big-I seen shoes like that

before. Whaddya want from me-I’m trying to help.”

“Well, Robert, don’t you worry. There’s no one in custody.”

“What s/?” said Gabray.

“What if what?”

“I tell you and cause a that you bust him? How do I know he’s not

gonna get out and come looking for me?”

Milo held up the photo again. “Look what he did, Robert.

What do you think? We’re gonna let him walk?”

“That don’t mean nothing to me, man. I don’t have confidence in

thesystem.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. I see guys all the time, do bad stuff and walk on technos.”

“Tsk, tsk,” said Milo. “What’s this world coming to? Listen, genius,

we find him, he won’t walk. And you tell me something that’ll help me

find him, you’ll walk too. With brownie points. Hell, Robert, all the

points you’ll have, you’ll be able to screw up a couple more times and

coast.”

Gabray smoked and tapped his foot and frowned.

“What is it, Robert?”

“I’m thinking.”

Ah.” To me: “Let’s be real quiet.”

“His face,” said the bartender. “I seen it. But just for a second.”

“That so? Was he angry or anything?”

Nah, just talking to her.”

And what was she doing?”

“Listening. I thought when I saw it: this punk cunt’s listening to Mr.

Straight. Don’t make sense.”

“Mr. Con.”

“Yeah. But he still didn’t fit the scene-all you see down there at

that hour is freaks and beaners and niggers. And cops-I thought first

that he was a cop. Then I thought that he looked like a con. Same

difference.”

“What was he talking to her about?”

“I couldn’t hear it, man! It was-” “Was he holding anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like anything.”

“You mean like to hurt her with? Nothing I saw. You really think he’s

the one did her?”

“What did his face look like?”

“Regular. . . uh, kinda. . . square.” Gabray put the cigarette in

his mouth and used his hands to frame a wobbly quadrangle. A regular

face.”

“Complexion?”

“He was white.”

“Pale, swarthy-on the dark side?”

“I dunno, just a white guy.”

“Same color as her?”

“She had on makeup that real white shit they like? He was darker than

that. Regular white. Normal.”

“Eye color?”

“I was too far away for that, man.”

“How far?”

“I dunno, half a block.”

“But you could see his shoes?”

“Maybe it was closer . . . I seen em. But I didn’t see no eye

color.”

“How tall was he?”

“Taller than her.”

“Taller than you?”

“Uh. . . maybe. Not much.”

“What’re you?”

“Five ten.”

So he was what, five eleven or six f~~~~~~ “Guess so.”

“Heavy build?”

“Yeah, but not fat, you know.”

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