A Reasonable Doubt by Susan Sloan (free novels .txt) 📕

He knew everyone who was anyone in the underbelly of Jackson County, and he had a real knack for putting people who wanted something and could pay for it together with people who had something they wanted to be paid for -- legal or otherwise.  It didn’t make any difference to him.  And as the middleman, he got his cut from both sides.

He agreed to meet with Joe Gideon, but only if the meeting took place at a bar out on the highway east of town, far enough, he hoped, from prying eyes.

“You want me to tell you if there was a cop playin’ both sides of the street?” he asked.

“Was there?” Joe prodded.

“And if I tell you -- what’s in it for me?”

“You tell me what I want to know, and I keep your name totally out of it,” the private investigator said.  “But you even try to play me and I spread the word that you’re a snitch across four counties.”

Tabalione laughed.  “Always liked doin’ business with you, Sergeant Gideon” he said.  “So, okay, yeah, there used to be a cop playin’ both sides.  But I hear he ain’t doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, and why not?”

Tabalione smirked.  “Because nowadays I hear that this cop that used to be playin’ both sides -- I hear he’s six feet under,” the kid said.  “And while I have no firsthand knowledge, you understand, I’m told it’s pretty hard to operate from down there.”

“You got a name that goes on that headstone?” Joe asked, his heart beginning to race.

“How many dead cops you heard about lately?” Rocky replied.

“I need a name, kid,” Joe said softly.

Tabalione shrugged.  It was no skin off his nose.  “Scott,” he said.

“And how do you know that Scott played both sides?”

“Cause that’s a big part of my job, man -- knowin’ who’s doin’ what -- to who and with who.”

“And what was Scott doing?”

“From what I hear, he wasn’t dirty just for the sake of bein’ dirty, if you know what I’m sayin’.  He was dirty because he was usin’, and his habit had outgrown his means.  So, in exchange for certain favors, particularly of the cocaine variety, he was protectin’ his supplier.  Quid pro quo, like they say.”

Joe wasn’t as shocked as he knew he should have been, but he was sick to his stomach. Still, he wasn’t about to give this punk kid the benefit of knowing it.

“Give me the name, Rocky,” he said.

Even way out where they were, and the place being all but empty in the early afternoon, Tabalione looked around carefully before he spoke.  “The Van Aiken brothers would probably be a good place to start,” he murmured.

Joe nodded slowly.  He had gotten more than he had come for.  Sadly, much more.  He dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table, patted the kid on the shoulder, and left.

. . .

“You’d better have more than Old Eddie and Rocky Tabalione,” Carson told his daughter after she had spent the better part of the dinner hour telling him what Joe had uncovered.  “Grace is a tough cookie.  She’s not going to let you tarnish the good name of a Port Hancock police officer without some hard evidence.”

“That’s why I’d like to search his house,” Lily said.  “Only I’ve got no probable cause.”

The former prosecutor shrugged.  “Lauren could always give you her permission.”

“Sure,” his daughter said with a laugh, “about the same time that pigs start flying.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Do you really think I should?”

“What do you have to lose?  She might just surprise you and say yes.  Look at it this way -- either she knows something or she doesn’t.  If she does, and she says no, it could be she’s trying to hide whatever it is.  If she doesn’t, she wouldn’t care.  Six months after the fact, though, I don’t know what you’d find.”

Lily mulled that over for a moment.  “I guess what I’m looking for -- what I’m hoping to find -- is probably going to be something she wouldn’t know is there.”

. . .

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to find,” Lauren said three days later when she let Lily and Joe into her home.  To Lily’s surprise, when she had called, her former friend and neighbor had agreed to having her house searched without the slightest hesitation.

“I don’t know, either,” Lily conceded.  “But we don’t know why Dale was down on Broad Street that night, and we’re hoping to find something that will tell us, which in turn might tell us why he’s dead.”

Lauren stiffened.  “You think my husband was involved in something that was criminal?” she asked sharply.

“No, of course not,” Joe assured her calmly.  “We’re just trying to figure out what it was that put him and the defendant in the same place at the same time that night.  Or to be more specific -- we know what Lightfoot was doing there, and we think it might be important to know what Dale was doing there, too.”

The widow sighed.  “All right, go ahead,” she said.  “I have nothing to hide.”  She looked at Lily.  “I’m really only letting you do this, you know, because I still feel bad about what happened at the funeral.  You were only doing your job then, and I suppose you’re only doing your job now, too -- whether it matters or not.  So look to your heart’s content.  I‘m sure you’re not going to find anything.  At least, you’re not going to find anything that would make my husband look bad.”

“I don’t expect we will,” Lily said gently.

They started in the study, going through the drawers of Dale’s desk for any papers, any notes, any clues about that night.  Clues the detective might have left behind.  Clues that could tell them what he had been doing down by the dock at that late hour.  But there was nothing -- literally nothing.  The desk was essentially empty.

Then they worked their way around the living room,