Lie Catchers Read Free Page B

part.”
    “Bear with me, son. After forty years as a port security guard, I sure as hell haven’t lost my nose.”
    “Go on.”
    “Her non-verbals got my antennae going. Uncomfortable talking about her writing and definitely uneasy about talking to you.”
    Parker sighed, wishing he could disagree with his father’s observations. He didn’t want Liv on his suspect list. “I caught that.”
    Chet clicked his tongue. “Your Liv Hanson is hiding something, and it’s not just a pen name.”

Chapter Two
    Parker lifted a bottle of beer at the chief sitting on the bar stool across from him. “If I’m playing a Seattle cop, I definitely need more inside information on drownings.”
    Ivor winced. “I wish I didn’t know so much about them. We haul dead people out of the ocean every year. On men, we check the zipper.”
    Parker’s brain stalled on Hanson’s statement, so he surveyed the dance floor. “Rolling on the River” pulsed from the DJ’s speakers, charging up a couple dozen dancers. God, they looked happy. They knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. Me? I feel like I’m on Mars!
    “Don’t like the beer?” Hanson asked.
    “I do,” Parker said, taking a swallow. “This town’s a surprise.” The breath he pulled in came with the odors of perfume, sweat, Pine Sol and stale beer, overlaid by a taco bar’s pungent offerings of corn tortillas and spicy, fried meats. As he considered the significance of open or closed zippers, he glanced at a giant picture positioned over the Landing’s pool tables, showcasing an enormous polar bear lying languidly on its back, a come-hither look in its eyes. Close by was a blown-up photo of two moose skeletons, the antlers of the animals impossibly and perpetually entangled. Parker empathized with the moose. Meese. Mooses. Mice? God, what was the plural of moose?
    The dancers yelled out “Rollin’! Rollin’!” and Parker turned to watch them. He zeroed in on Liv, whose glittery jewelry and golden hair caught the light in a magical way. Who was her dance partner? Lucky man.
    Ivor said, “Petersburg requires acclimation.”
    “I thought this was a village, small and isolated. Yet when I flew in yesterday, from above, I saw marinas packed with boats, half a dozen canneries, and a sprawling town. I never knew how big…”
    “Non-stop rainfall and three thousand people. Nothing like your Fresno.”
    “Definitely not Fresno. But bigger than I expected.” He drank from his bottle and decided to plead ignorance regarding open or closed flies. “Everett Olson’s zipper was down.”
    Ivor nodded. “Helps to have that information. See, you found Ev’s body in Puget Sound waters several days after the boat he’d rented was discovered adrift. He was a fisherman before he became a cannery foreman here in town, so it’s possible he was fishing in Seattle, though we have no evidence he bought a Washington license. If he was on a boat, alone, he could have taken a piss over the side and fallen, accidentally. Bumped by a wave, tripped. Whatever. We see a lot of drownings that way.”
    “Zippers down.”
    “Yup. More suspicious if the zipper is up.” Ivor rubbed his chin. “He was in the water about a week, you say?”
    “Give or take. Hard to be sure after the critters had their way with the body.”
    Both men stared at the dancers, Parker’s attention caught, again, by Liv who waved at her brother in time to the music before she turned, her hands in the air, torso, butt and legs gyrating. Limber. Lithe. Parker straightened his shoulders, feeling included in Liv Hanson’s gesture .
    “It’s her outlet,” Ivor said.
    “Oh.”
    “She goes a little nuts with the dancing.” His expression showed affection mixed with concern. “Outlets are hard to find in Petersburg. In fact, with a short fishing season and dreary weather, some people spend too much time indoors. Short tempers. Depression. Booze. Drugs. A nasty cocktail. “
    Nodding, Parker gazed