Page 26 of Falling for Her

“Good,” I say, pressing the bell and knocking at the same time.

The dog’s barking gets louder as I hear movement behind the door. “Who is it?”

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Open the fucking door.”

The lock clicks, the door opens a bit, and a man’s head peeks out with one eye closed. “Good morning, Officer.” He winces. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a couple questions to ask you.” The dog behind him pushes out to smell my feet, tail wagging. “Is this your guard dog?”

“Supposed to be. He sucks at it.” I can smell marijuana coming out of his place. His blue basketball shorts ride low on his hips, and the white sleeveless tank top he’s wearing has what looks like pizza sauce on it.

“You going to invite me in? Or are we going to have this conversation on your front porch so everyone can see you talking to a cop?”

“Your truck is in my driveway.” He folds his tattoo-covered arms over his chest. “They’re already talking.”

I nod. The dog lies down beside me for a nap. “Word on the street is some new players are running things over on Highway 25.” I see a flicker in his expression. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope, not a thing.”

“Right. Hypothetically, if someone wanted to talk to someone who does know, where would they go?”

“Hypothetically”—he looks right and left—“they might ask Randy.” I know who he means. He’s another player a town over.

“You going to give him a heads-up?” I put my hand on the chipped black railing.

“A good friend would.”

“Are you a good friend?”

“I was a better one before he tried to get with my girl when I was doing a month in jail.”

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” I turn and head down the steps. The dog watches me, tail wagging slightly, before rising and going back inside. The door is slammed shut, lock snapping into place, before I even make it to the sidewalk.

I spend four hours trying to track down Randy, then three hours waiting for him to come home, to no avail. I finally go back to the local strip club after 4:00 p.m. The dim lights inside are a stark difference from the outside sunlight. A woman onstage is going around the pole, and ten people are scattered at the tables. Randy’s in the corner getting a lap dance.

A waitress approaches me with a brown tray in her hand. “Can I⁠—”

“Nope,” I cut her off, passing her and stopping in front of Randy. “Don’t you have a job?” I ask him.

He looks at me and then looks up at the ceiling. “I’m off today.” I know it’s a lie because I went to where he’s supposed to work and they told me they fired him two months ago. Something his parole officer would know if he actually did his job.

“Got a couple questions for you,” I say, and the woman looks over her shoulder at me.

“I don’t have any answers for you,” he retorts.

I look at the girl and do a motion with my head to scram. She takes the hint and quickly gets away from him.

“I paid for her to dance for me.”

“The faster you answer my questions, the faster you can get back to whatever you’re doing.” He leans back in his chair. “What do you know about the new people in town running Highway 25?”

He stares at me. “Nothing.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re lying. You weren’t even shocked about it. Anyone who didn’t know anything would be defensive.”

“Why are you busting my balls?”

“I don’t want anything to do with your balls. Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll be on my way.”