Death in the Sunshine (Retired Detectives Club, #1)(60)

He walks around the pool to the summerhouse, stopping on the threshold to the building. ‘How’re you doing?’

Mikey flinches when he hears Rick’s words. Doesn’t look up. ‘I’m okay. You can go back to the house.’

‘You sure about that?’ Rick steps inside. He stops a few paces from the kid. He still can’t see his face, but he can tell from the way he’s breathing, and moving, that he’s fighting back tears – trying to get control of himself.

‘I . . .’ Mikey straightens up. Rubs his eyes with his hands. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his eyes are real bloodshot. ‘I didn’t kill her.’

Rick holds the kid’s gaze. All he sees is sadness. Sure it could be for himself rather than Kristen Altman, but Rick’s always been a good judge of character; he usually calls these things the right way. ‘I know.’

‘Then why are you out here?’

‘There’s stuff you know that might help us find the person who did kill her, stuff you might not even think of as important. I need you to tell me about her, about what you did and what she liked and really, everything.’

Mikey frowns. ‘But you’re not police, Gram said. So what are you? A PI or something?’

‘Or something.’ Rick can see the kid’s reluctant to talk. Lots of folks are like that. Oftentimes it just takes a little patience. Rick glances back towards the house. Patience is something it seems Philip doesn’t have much of. He shakes his head. He’s glad he’s got Mikey on his own; between Miss Betty’s obvious irritation with her grandson and Philip’s misjudged pushiness, being inside is unlikely to help get the kid to open up.

Sitting down on the bench seat a little ways along from Mikey, he gestures towards the kid’s smoke. ‘You got another?’

The kid looks surprised, but pulls a soft pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and holds it out to Rick.

Rick takes one. ‘Can I get a light?’

Mikey hands Rick a silver Zippo. Rick takes it and lights the cigarette. Hands the Zippo back and inhales. He feels the heat as the smoke fills his mouth and hits the back of his throat. Stifles a cough. Jesus, he hates these son-of-a-bitches, but he’s learnt that making a shared connection with the person you need information from pays dividends, and oftentimes doing what the informant is doing is the best way to fast-track building trust. He breathes out the smoke and leans against the side of the building. ‘You think you can tell me about Kristen?’

‘I’ll try.’ Mikey swallows hard. Takes a breath. ‘I wasn’t looking to meet anyone. I only intended staying here a week or so, to get my head together. Gram’s great and all, but she’s . . . she’s a lot, you know?’

Rick nods. The house might be luxurious, but it has a rigid, static feeling to it, like a museum. And he’d seen the way Miss Betty treated the kid. It couldn’t be easy living under her roof for long. ‘Sure.’

‘But Kristen, she was really something. She was so on it. She had all this energy and was always coming up with crazy schemes. She was just so alive . . .’ He looks away across the yard and cusses under his breath. Turns back to Rick. ‘I can’t believe she’s . . .’

Rick tries to keep his tone light. Doesn’t want to spook the kid. ‘What sort of schemes?’

‘The money-making kind. She was always telling me I needed to think big. That I could be something, you know, with my music.’

Rick says nothing. He doesn’t know about the music, but wants the kid to stay focused on Kristen, not divert into talking about his hobby.

‘We just needed to get to Nashville, that’s what Kristen said. Then everything would happen.’ Mikey looks past Rick into the distance. He smiles, as if reliving a memory, then wipes his eyes with his hand again. ‘She was real clear that we’d need a wedge of money to help us get set up there, what with it being a fresh start and all, but then we’d make ourselves some luck and I’d play my music and get discovered, and then we’d be like Johnny Cash and June.’

‘Did she ever tell you how much money you needed?’

‘No, but it was quite a bit from the way she talked. Five, maybe ten thousand.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘We fought about it. I said let’s go now, we can sleep in the car if we need to before we get started, but she wouldn’t have it. She said she wanted to do things right. Have a little style.’

‘Did you fight like that on Seahorse Drive one night earlier this week, around midnight?’

Mikey shrugs. ‘Probably. Like I said, we argued about it a lot.’

‘Is that why you think she didn’t meet you two nights ago? You’d had another fight?’

‘No, we hadn’t been fighting that day. She suggested we meet up that evening. Said she had something to tell me and that I was going to be all kinds of excited. I tried to get her to tell me on the phone, but she wouldn’t. I called her, and sent a bunch of messages, but she held firm the whole day. All she’d say was that after that night our money problems would be over and we could be in Nashville by the end of the week.’

Rick thinks about the money floating in the pool beside Kristen’s dead body. What were you up to? he thinks. What did you do that got you killed?

Mikey’s looking at him, head cocked to one side. ‘You think you know what happened?’