The Last witness

Blues sighed, looked at the mirror again, and then back at Mason. "I told him that if he tried jacking with my license or ever came in my bar again, I'd twist his head off and stuff it up his ass."

"Well, that was memorable and stupid. What happened to being the strong silent type?"

"Cullan is used to getting in the last word, shoving people around, pimp-slapping women. No way he walks out of my place like he owned it."

"Blues's Law," Mason said. "What about afterward? What did you do after you closed the bar?"

"Home, man. By myself."

Mason stopped writing. "So you fought with this guy, he threatened you, and you threatened him back. Plus your blood and skin were under Cullan's fingernails when the maid found him. Harry's probably talked to Bern Harrell and Kirby, Street, and Fivecoat. He's got four witnesses to the threat and forensic evidence to go with it. And you don't have an alibi. I'd say he does like you for the murder."

Mason pushed back from the table and got up. Blues asked, "Where are you going?"

"Talk to Harry and find out what he's really got."

" Aren't you forgetting to ask me one thing?" Blues asked.

"What's that?" Mason answered.

"If I did it?"

Mason shook his head and smiled. "Don't have to. You would have told me. Blues's Law."

Blues smiled for the first time. "I guess you can do this, Lou."

"That I can," Mason said.

Chapter Three

Mason found Harry squeezed into his desk chair, talking on the phone and rolling his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'm glad it's all over too, Mr. Mayor. Good-bye, sir." Harry put the phone down and motioned to Mason to pull up a chair.

"Did you forget to tell the mayor about the trial?" Mason asked as he borrowed a chair from another desk and sat down next to Harry.

Harry was pushing sixty, with half-gray sawdust hair, a soft-squared face, flat on the top and round on the sides. His bulk was more muscle than fat and his hands were like catchers' mitts. His build was constantly at war with his clothes, including the gray suit he'd picked for today. The arms on Harry's chair clamped his midsection like a vise. The police department had not been introduced to ergonomics.

"That's like the next election," Harry said. "Mayor Sunshine will worry about that tomorrow. Today, he'll tell the public that the case has been solved and make it sound like it was his collar."

Mason said, "I never saw a politician get so much out of his last name since the Kennedys. Anybody who can campaign on the slogan 'Let the Sunshine in Kansas City' with a straight face wouldn't break a sweat solving a murder."

Harry freed himself long enough to get two cups of coffee from a machine against the wall. He handed one to Mason as he shoehorned himself back into his chair.

"The people elected him," Harry said. "William 'Billy' Sunshine. His Honor the Asshole."

Mason sipped and grimaced. He was an occasional coffee drinker, never quite developing an appreciation for the bitter brew.

Harry said, "Get yourself some cream and sugar. Make it sweet like when you were a kid. You'll like it better."

Mason set his cup down on Harry's desk. He didn't know whether Harry intended his remark to be a gentle paternal reminder of their long relationship or just idle chatter. Mason realized that he'd eventually have to convince Harry that their relationship was irrelevant to this case. He wasn't looking forward to that moment.

"It's fine," Mason told him. "The mayor been pushing you guys on this case?"

Mason intended the question to sound casual, even innocent-more concerned about Harry than about the implications for the "rush to judgment" defense he was already planning for Blues.

Harry gave him a wise smile. "Lou, I'm going to handle this case like every other one. It doesn't matter to me that Bluestone is the defendant or that you're his lawyer. I'll tell you what you're entitled to know and that's it."

Mason felt like the little boy again. First Harry told him how to drink his coffee, and then Harry told him that he's not so clever after all.

"Fair enough," Mason said. "Tell me what I'm entitled to know, but don't leave anything out because it won't be fun for either one of us if I find out some other way."

Harry shuffled through a stack of reports on his desk, humming under his breath until he found the one he wanted. He put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and studied the report.