Ella took in Croon’s profile.In the mugshot, he'd looked like a man who'd stopped caring about appearances around the same time he'd stopped caring about the law.In person, he was a little more put-together.
‘Well, innocent men don’t run at the first sign of the police, so what gives?’
Croon shrugged.‘Old habits die hard.’
She glanced at Croon’s gold watch and his silver ring that looked like it belonged on someone in their seventies.They weren’t the kind of things you’d see on a construction worker.
‘So, you see the police, you immediately try and stab them with a spike.That’s how your brain works, is it?’
‘No, it’s because I know what this is about.My pal Eddie, dead in his living room.I used to train him, you know?I was a personal trainer once upon a time, and of course you dumb cops are gonna jump on the first criminal you can find, aren’t you?’
An electric current ran through Ella’s veins.She went numb for a second.Darryl Croon not only knew Eddie Foxall, but somehow knew that he’d wound up dead.As far as Ella knew, his death hadn’t hit the news yet.
Ripley must have sensed her train of thought, because she said, ‘Awful quick to jump to murder, Darryl.How’d you know about Eddie?’
‘I watch the news, and I don’t mean CNN.Local news.People with their fingers on the pulse.I heard about Eddie this morning.I figured it was only a matter of time before someone questioned me about him.’
Ella filed that away.It was plausible.Neighbourhood group chats spread bad news faster than any official channel, and a construction worker with a criminal record living near a murder scene would have every reason to feel nervous when two women in street clothes walked onto his site looking like they weren’t there to buy lumber.Plausible wasn’t the same as true, but she’d come back to it.
But still, a few things didn’t add up.‘So instead of talking to us, you run away?Why?That’s not a good look for someone who’s supposedly cleaned their act up.’
Laughter exploded from Croon like a landmine had gone off.‘Cleaned up?Lady, look at me.Do I look like someone who’s cleaned up?’
‘No.You look like someone who uses this job as a cover.’She leaned down and flicked his gold watch.‘I think you’re still out there burgling houses, but these jobs help keep up appearances.Your foreman certainly fell for it.’
Croon inspected his watch, or more accurately, someone’s watch.‘Yup.Like I said, you got me fair and square.I knew it was only a matter of time before I got busted again.’
‘So why do it?’Ella asked.
‘You ever had the wolf at the door, lady?Not knowing when the cash is going to dry up?That’s why I do it.’
Ella’s guts clenched.The things that could drive a person to just keep their head above water for one more day, one more week.Not that it excused anything.Plenty of folks had it rough, chose to scrape by instead of swiping their neighbor’s jewelry.But it added a layer of complexity to the portrait of Darryl Croon taking shape in her head.
He wasn’t just some psycho getting his rocks off by lifting valuables.He was a product of his environment.
She shook off the unproductive train of thought and refocused on the task at hand.‘Right.And your file tells us you’re pretty handy with a lockpick.Want to tell us about that?’
‘Picking locks?What about it?’
Ripley said, ‘We’ll ask the questions.’
Croon scoffed.‘Locks are old hat.Not my style anymore.That part reallyisbehind me.’
‘So, what’s your game now?’
‘Cars.Not the flimsy things that pass as cars these days, either.I’m talking muscle cars, classics.’
Ella shook her head.‘You mean ones that don’t have electronic keys?’
‘You’re good, lady.Anything before ‘06, usually.Much more cash in cars than old laptops and crap like that.’Croon tapped his watch.‘Sometimes you get lucky and strike gold too.’
‘How does that work, then?Stealing cars?’
Croon grinned, like he’d been waiting for someone to ask this question for years.‘Getting into the car is easy, so is hotwiring.The hard part is breaking the steering column so you can actually drive the thing.It’s usually a two-man job.’
Just then, a breathless Billy Miller rushed back with a fistful of rectangular cards.He thrust them into Ella’s arms.
‘Here you go, detectives.All present and correct.’
