Casting Bones Read Online Free Page B

little severe, Jack? I done nothing to warrant a gun. What you want me for?’
    â€˜I thought about public intoxication, but if I arrested everyone down here for drinking, the jails would be overflowing right now.’
    â€˜I didn’t know you was a police officer. Plain clothes and all,’ a grim smile on his face. ‘So sorry, man. Please, let’s just forget about it.’
    He stood firm as Archer approached, the pistol leveled at him.
    â€˜You probably make more at your little business than I do at mine,’ Q said. ‘I need every cent I’ve got, police pay being what it is.’
    â€˜Listen, Mr …’
    â€˜Not Mister. Detective. Detective Archer. Detective Quentin Archer.’
    He stepped closer, and the dark man with the shaved head cringed.
    â€˜What? You gonna shoot me? Arrest me?’
    â€˜I’m going to get my wallet back.’ He stuck out his hand and the man reached into his waistband and handed Archer the wallet.
    With one hand he thumbed it open.
    â€˜What’s your name? Your real name.’
    â€˜Samuel.’
    â€˜Samuel. I want the cash.’
    â€˜Damn, man. Wasn’t but twenty-seven dollars.’
    Archer nodded, somewhat surprised. It had only been in his possession a few seconds yet the man had already counted the money. He reached out and grabbed the little guy by his shirt collar.
    â€˜I don’t care if it was one dollar. Do you know what happens if I take you in? Do you?’
    The short man reared back, a sly smile on his face as if he’d been waiting for the question.
    â€˜Yeah. I know what happens. I’m out in two hours.’
    â€˜The money.’
    He reached into his pants pocket and handed the detective the twenty-seven dollars folded in half.
    â€˜Another twenty,’ Archer said.
    â€˜Now you crazy. Weren’t but twenty-seven. You know it, I know it. You can go fuck yourself.’
    â€˜Another twenty, Samuel.’
    The man pursed his lips, squinted and looked up at Archer. ‘So you just like all the rest of ’em. On the take.’
    Same shit, no matter where you were.
    Pulling him closer, his hand still clenching the shirt collar, Archer looked him in the eyes. ‘I’ll give it to the poor children’s fund. Maybe it’s a donation for injured cops. I haven’t decided yet, but yeah, I want twenty for not turning you in.’
    â€˜Damn, man.’
    Shorty was right, of course. The conman would be out in two hours. The jails would be overflowing if they arrested every pickpocket, every public drunk in town. This was a drinking town with a murder problem. That’s where the effort should be directed. With his best hard-assed cop attitude, he repeated.
    â€˜Twenty.’
    Samuel reached back into his pocket and pulled out the Andrew Jackson.
    â€˜What’s your last name?’
    Samuel smiled, handing him the bill. ‘Jackson.’
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜No, ’tis. Jackson. No relation.’
    â€˜Samuel, if I catch you again—’
    â€˜You won’t, brother, because I’ve learned my lesson. Believe me, Detective, I’ll recognize you.’
    â€˜If I do catch you again, I’ll run you in. And I won’t let you out in two hours. I promise.’
    â€˜Just tryin’ to make a livin’, dude.’
    Archer nodded, putting his pistol back in the holster. Samuel Jackson shook his head, sighed, and continued staggering down the sidewalk. Probably already plotting his next sleight of hand.
    Archer’s cell phone jangled and he glanced at the caller ID. Strand.
    â€˜Partner, I’m in the Quarter. Where are you?’
    Archer gave him the address and two minutes later Strand pulled up in a blue Buick LeSabre, turn of the century vintage.
    â€˜Q, I figured I’d find you down here somewhere. We might have this thing wrapped.’ Strand motioned him to the passenger side. ‘Get in.’
    â€˜Only twenty-two