A Cold Day in Paradise

  “Why me?”

  “Well, you’ve got the license.”

  “I don’t use it. You know that. Why don’t you hire Leon Prudell?”

  He was the only other game in town. My former sometimes-partner, a man who grew up in the UP and who never wanted to be anything else other than a private investigator. Problem was, he was the fat goofy kid who sat in the back of the classroom and to most people around here, he’d never be anything else.

  “Prudell’s a clown,” Maven said. “At least you look competent.”

  “Gee, thanks. But seriously, Prudell’s a lot better than anybody realizes. He’d do a fantastic job with this.”

  “Look, McKnight, all you have to do is drive out there, talk to a few people, then drive back. Tell Raz what you heard. If that happened to be, ‘You know what, your son wasn’t depressed at all, there was absolutely no reason he should have killed himself, so it was just a tragic fluke thing, one bad night in his life and I’m awfully sorry….’ Well, then, I mean if you said that, then everybody would be better off, I think.”

  “So now you’re even telling me what to say? Why bother even going out there? I can just say I did.”

  “Don’t be a wiseass. I’m just saying, if you don’t find out anything, that would be a good line to take. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Chief…”

  “And you make your three hundred bucks. Or whatever. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “You’re something else,” I said. “You treat me like crap every time I see you, but now you think all you gotta do is wave some money in my face and I’ll help you.”

  He threw his cigarette down onto the gravel and reached out for me. He grabbed me by the coat and drew himself to within a few inches of my face. Here we go, I thought. We’re gonna have that fight in the parking lot after all.

  “I’m not asking for me,” he said, looking me dead in the eye. “I’m asking for my old friend, who’s spent the last three months living in hell. Okay? He’s going to be in my office tomorrow at ten o’clock. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to stop by and at least talk to him. Can you do that?”

  “Just once, would it kill you to say please?”

  I could feel him tightening his grip on my coat.

  “Please, Alex. Okay? Please.”

  Then he pushed me away from him and turned to go.

  “Ten o’clock,” he said as he got into his car. “Don’t be late.”