Part 38 (2/2)

”Did you talk to him?”

Clarence began to play with his fingers again, his face so cheerful Ry had to grit his teeth to keep himself from reaching out and squeezing the pudgy neck. ”Maybe I talked to somebody. Maybe I didn't. But maybe if I did, the voice on the phone was all screwed up, like a machine.”

”Man or woman?”

”Like a machine,” Clarence repeated, gesturing toward Ry's tape recorder. ”Maybe it could have been either. Maybe they just sent me money to a post-office box before, and after.”

”How'd they find you?”

Clarence moved his right shoulder, then his left. ”Maybe I didn't ask. People find me when they want me.” His grin lit his face.

”Somebody always wants me.”

”Why that warehouse?”

”I didn't say nothing about a warehouse,” Clarence said, pokering up.

”Why that warehouse?” Ry repeated. ”Maybe.”

Pleased that Ry was playing the game, Clarence scooted forward in his chair. ”Maybe for the insurance. Maybe because somebody didn't like who owned the place. Maybe for fun. There's lots of reasons for fire.”

Ry pressed him. ”And the store. The same person owned the store.”

”There were pretty things in the store. Pretty girl things.”

Forgetting himself, Clarence smiled in reminiscence. ”It smelled pretty, too. Even prettier after I poured the gas.”

”Who told you to pour the gas, Clarence?”

”I didn't say I did.”

”You just did.”

Clarence pouted like a child. ”Did not. I said maybe.”

The tape would prove different, but Ry kept his probing steady.

”You liked the girl things in the store.”

Clarence's eyes twinkled. ”What store?”

Biting back an oath, Ry leaned back. ”Maybe I should call my friend back and let him talk to you.”

”What friend?”

”From last night. You remember last night.”

All color drained from Clarence's face. ”He was a ghost. He wasn't really there.”

”Sure he was there. You saw him. You felt him.”

”A ghost.” Clarence began to gnaw on his fingernails. ”I didn't like him.”

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