The Death of Lorenzo Jones by Brad Latham Page A

with Rodney Kepper. He had to find out more.
    “How cozy were Amanda and Rodney, Stinky? Tell me, man to man.”
    “Gosh, you’re jealous. Don’t feel bad, Hook. She was always needing help on her engine. Dames aren’t too good at turning wrenches,
     like we are. Rodney thought he was getting someplace with her, but she was just friends because she needed help. One day he
     came right out and accused her of that. She said it was true. She only wanted him as a friend and to talk shop. Boy, did he
     get mad. He threw a wrench at Freddie Freestrut—that’s her plane, you know. Then he stalked off. They never talked again.
     But I heard him telling the other guys how she was real
easy
and all.”
    “Lying?”
    “Yeah, a dame like that, Hook. She’s a good pilot, so I respect her, right? She can have a good-looking guy like you. Why
     would she want fat ugly Rodney?”
    “Sure!” Lockwood said. But he wasn’t so sure. Here was an angle he had never counted on. Rodney and Amanda. Until you knew
     for sure, it wasn’t wise to eliminate
anybody
as a suspect, even someone you were sleeping with. He wondered if it had been
Amanda’s
curling iron that had burned Doc’s feet.
    Stinky filled him in on a few of the other people. Nothing new there. All bets were still on Wade or Cynthia. They had the
     motives.
    Wade had the disposition of a sneaky killer, Cynthia Jones the disposition of an angry lush.
    Yeah. But maybe Hook didn’t know much about the dame he was bedding down with either. Could Amanda have done it? She had had
     opportunity but no motive. Jesus, the kid
could
have done it. Naw, what the hell kind of cynic am I anyway? Hook felt ashamed for a moment. Stinky wouldn’t have done it,
     would he?
    There
had
been a bit of mayhem in Stinky’s eyes a few times when they had been talking. Maybe his hero had crossed him.:..
    Hook put on his hat, gave Stinky his number, and left.
    Stinky said he would be on the case.
    Maybe I’m blinded by my desire to pin the whole thing on Wade and Mrs. Jones, Hook thought. Maybe the thermos doesn’t mean
     anything.
    He had a funny feeling in his gut as he drove to his next stop. As if he was slowly sinking in quicksand and there was no
     one around he could trust to pull him out.

CHAPTER
14
    Doug Sheer and Lockwood poured over the data they had collected from the files and from Sheer’s private sources. Wade kept
     three mistresses in apartments on the East and West Side.
    “And get this—Jones had once seen a doctor in Philadelphia,” Sheer said. “Maybe he saw him again. After he saw Doc Carruthers.”
    Lockwood called the Philadelphia doctor Sheer mentioned for an appointment. The long-distance operator put the plug in the
     wrong circuit, and Hook couldn’t get through. Then, the Philadelphia circuits were all full. He tried again in ten minutes
     and had no trouble getting through. Except that there was such a buzz on the line he had to yell to be heard. The doctor was
     reticent about speaking over the phone, so Lockwood was on the road again.
    Philadelphia was only ninety miles from the Holland Tunnel. And much of the ride was through pleasant fields and farms, once
     you got past the factories and dumps near the city. It was a sunny day, and Lockwood let down the top. There wasn’t much traffic,
     so he decided to let the Cord out a bit. He would have to pick up some speed if he was going to catch the Philadelphia doctor
     in his office.
    Once he got past the gas stations and motels along Route 46, he eased up to 95. That wasn’t much for the Twin Packard engine,
     but the roads in Jersey were pitted. Although the shocks were special, he didn’t want to tear a Silvertown tire and spend
     half an hour changing a wheel.
    For about ten miles a souped-up Studebaker gave him a pretty good run for his money, or so the teenage driver thought. Then
     Lockwood tired of teasing the youth and took off, as if the Studebaker was standing still.
    Lockwood made it before