Page 68 of Dirty

I tossed the rag on the workbench. “She kill someone on the way out of the shop, did she?”

“Like I said,” he said. “I’ll ask, you answer.”

I looked at my watch. “Seven minutes.”

He pressed his hands to his hips. “When I left your clubhouse, I went to Lucy Hart’s home to talk to her and her daughter, Alexandra. Alexandra being one of the girls who had been abducted, I felt the need to press her for information about how she got away from her abductors. When I pulled in front of the house, I couldn’t help but notice there was a silver Chevy Cruze in the drive.”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying one word. After pausing for a few seconds, he continued.

“I knocked on the door, and when it opened, I’ll be damned if the lady at the door wasn’t the same lady that was at your clubhouse.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

He raised his index finger. “I know Navarro’s fucking the reporter from the Tribune.” He raised his middle finger. “And, I know Peanut Butter is engaged to be married to some nurse.”

He put his hands back on his hips. “So, I doubted she was there to see them. Me being a detective and all, I’m thinking maybe it was you she was there to see. So, I had one of my patrols go by her house a few times to see if any of the FFMC crew show up. This morning I get a report across my desk that has mention of a Heritage Softail parked in the drive that’s registered to you.”

I looked at my watch. “Three minutes.”

“What’s your relationship with Lucy Hart?”

I straddled my bike. “Don’t have one.”

He took a few steps back and glared at me. “You saying you don’t know her?”

“That’s not what you asked me.”

He shook his head then let out a sigh. “Do you know Lucy Hart?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not making this easy, Downey.”

I chuckled. “You’re not asking the right questions, cop.”

I kicked the bike into neutral and pushed it outside the garage and into the drive. Still standing in the garage, the detective appeared to be growing annoyed.

I looked at my watch.

“You’ve only got a minute, so I’ll do you a favor,” I said. “Lucy Hart was my neighbor for ten years. I met her daughter after she was abducted. I’d love to find the cocksuckers who did it, believe me. Sad truth is that she was blindfolded the entire time and didn’t get a good look at them. I’ve asked over and over. Get the same story each time. It’s not a crime to know people, and unless you’re going to cuff me, I’d appreciate it if you got out of my garage so I can go to work.”

He walked out of the garage and stopped beside my bike. I got off, shut the door, and locked it. With his eyes locked on me, I walked back the bike, got on, and met his stone-faced stare.

I shoved my hat between my legs, put on my helmet, and looked at him. “Got any more questions?”

“That little boy saw it all,” he said. “He didn’t want to tell me everything, but he witnessed it. I’m sure of it.”

“The one who gave you a handy for that lollipop?”

“Word on the streets is that Calle 18 wants their money,” he said. “And they’re not going to stop until they get it.”

“Well, if they come here looking for it, they’ll get shot. Might tell ‘em that when you see ‘em next.”

“If I knew where to find them, I’d be sure and tell them.” He cleared his throat and then met my gaze. “So, you’ve got guns? Do you own a .45 caliber pistol?”

“Can’t say that I do, detective,” I responded. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go earn a living.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “I’m sure something else will come up.”