Read Online They Don't Play Stickball in Milwaukee by Reed Farrel Coleman - Free Book Online Page A

Riversborough’s reputation jealously. I make no apologies for that.”
    â€œI can appreciate that,” I empathized, “but you must realize that if there’s someone producing Isotope in town—”
    â€œStop there. I don’t accept your premise. This was an isolated incident.”
    â€œYou better rethink your position on that. I was just in a holding cell with some kid tripping out of his mind.”
    That gave Dean Dallenbach pause. I could see him trying to formulate a reasonable response, but, “I’ll look into it,” was all he said on the subject.
    â€œYou should.”
    â€œYou may go now, Mr. Klein. I’ve seen to it that no charges will be leveled against you. I am afraid, however, that I must ask you to route any of your investigations through these offices. If, in the future, you wish to deal with any member of the faculty or student body, you must seek written permission to do so. And if any person denies you access, that answer will be considered final and binding. There will be no appeal. Is that understood?” It wasn’t a question, really, so I just nodded. “Excellent. Good day to you, sir, and much success in locating your nephew. The next time me meet, I hope it will be under more favorable circumstances.”
    I was being dismissed. Dallenbach had pretty much driven a stake into the heart of my investigation, but he did it with a smile. He’d warned me and he wanted it on record. I wasn’t about to listen to him. Zak’s life was more important than the school’s prestige. But I would have to be a bit more restrained. From this point on, I knew someone would be watching.

You’ll Be Wrong
    The desk clerk grabbed me on the way up to my room at the Old Watermill and handed me a few sheets of fax paper. He reminded me that the inn was going to throw its weekly fish fry tonight. I thanked him, but told him I’d have to take a pass on the fried fish. Before parting company, I asked him to deliver two cups of coffee to the campus security officers parked across the street in the blue minivan. The clerk didn’t bat an eye and wondered if I might not have a message to deliver with the coffee?
    I said I did. “Tell them I know how bad surveillance duty sucks. Tell them if they should feel nature call, to just piss into the empty cups.”
    It was a real Hollywood gesture, but having been there recently, I figured I was excused. The clerk loved it. I didn’t imagine he got to do a whole lot of Hollywood material there in the land of fish fries. I slipped him a twenty for the coffee and future considerations. It was, after all, Jeffrey’s money.
    I tossed the fax on the bed and headed straight for the shower. The jail stink came off in layers. As I washed, I went over my little conference with Dean Dallenbach. He’d been relatively civil and more understanding than I had reason to expect, but, in spite of my brave front, I was a bit unnerved by my visit to city jail and the dean’s office. I don’t know, maybe it was the town getting to me. I was beginning to think Riversborough was the kind of place that was best experienced on a picture postcard. There were probably lots of nasty things buried beneath the snow.
    Larry’s cover letter read like this:
    Klein—
    Schmuck! It was the Boatswain case, not Hernandez.
    If you said that up front, I could’ve had this shit for you almost immediately. Read between the lines and between the lines you can’t see. As you’re reading, think about why people you’re close to refer to this using Hernandez’s name. When you reach a conclusion, you’ll be wrong. Call me for the truth.
    You owe me, baby,
    Feld
    Oh that Larry, he was such a charmer. Even when he did right, he made you want to poke his eyes out. And when Larry mentioned reading between the lines, he wasn’t kidding. Pages two and three of the fax were simply compilations of