Haskel scanned the balcony furtively, as if the dying plants might be listening. “I won’t say another word unless you can guarantee protection.”
“And why would you need protection from him?”
“Don’t you know? He’s a mailman. He knows my name. I can’t go anywhere that he wouldn’t be able to track me down.” Was there paranoid juice in the water around here? “And he keeps asking about my bird.”
“O…kay.”
Haskel gave a huff of frustration. “You don’t get it. He doesn’tcareabout Agatha.”
“Agatha…being your bird.”
“Exactly.”
“Implying, what—he’s gonna report it?”
“Worse. He wants me to know thatheknows that it would kill me if anything were to happen to her.”
On the surface, this all sounded just a few steps away from carting around your own pee. But Sledgewouldhave access to the postal database, and a quick search would be all it took to locate someone. And I could totally see him threatening an old man’s bird.
“Look,” I said, “I’d love to put Sledge away. Something’s fishy in the apartment upstairs. But unless I can find more evidence, there’s nothing to charge him with.” I shouldered past the guy into the kitchen. He didn’t exactly invite me in, but he didn’t block the doorway either. Same layout as the one upstairs, but it looked totally different neatly filled with someone’s actual belongings. A dish rack with one plate, one bowl, one coffee mug. Magnets on the fridge holding up various coupons and menus. The kind of place where everything had a spot andstayed there—salt and pepper shakers centered on the table, a single dishtowel folded over the oven handle.
From the kitchen I could see into the living room, where a bird condominium took up half a wall—tiered perches, swings, ladders, the whole works. The door hung open, but the dull brown bird was busy pecking at a plastic ring hanging from the perch above.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked.
“Seven years.” He said it with great weariness. “Since my wife passed. Couldn’t stay in our house after that. Too many rooms, too many memories.”
Seven years. Three rounds of tenants coming and going upstairs. Plenty of noise through the ceiling. Plenty of reasons to keep your head down and mind your own business.
“Agatha is all I have left of her.”
“Then help me keep Sledge away from your bird and tell me what you know.”
Haskel gathered his courage while I held my breath so as not to send his confession darting across the alley like a scared cat. I missed this part of the job, I realized. The part I’d never figured I was any good at, because I was nothing more than a ghost Geiger counter, and it was my Stiff doing all the real police work. But maybe I’d been selling myself short.
Because my cop-sense was telling me that Haskel knew something. Something big.
He steeled himself and said, “The couple upstairs—the ones who moved in after Sergei—they fought. Bad.”
“How bad, exactly?”
“Really bad.” He paused, then repeated, “Really bad.”
So there was abuse. And Haskel was afraid of Sledge, scared enough to demand protection. We were on the same wavelength, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to add it together. Asshole Sledge had a temper. It spun out of control. One thing led to another, and before you know it, there was blood splatter on the walls and a repeater in the bedroom. “Got it. Now, was this before or after Sarah Dombrowski moved in with Sledge?”
Haskel blinked. “During.” We both stared at each other in confusion, and he said, “Sarah was the only girl up there.”
“Maybe there was a break in the relationship…or maybe he was seeing someone on the side.”
“No, never. It was only ever Sarah.”
“He seemed to move on quickly enough once she broke up with him.”
“I don’t believe it. If he did, it was probably just for show. He was obsessed with Sarah. And then one day…she was gone.”
Because she’d finally had enough of that jerk and left—with no forwarding address. “Sarah is fine. I talked to her just yesterday.”
Haskel’s brow screwed up. “She is?” He grabbed three times for a kitchen chair before he found it, pulled it out, and collapsed onto the vinyl seat. “Wow. That’s a relief.” He fanned himself with his hand. “All this time, I’d been thinking the worst. Guess I watch too many cop shows on TV.”
