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“Do you need help?”
“There's no emergency but assistance might be good at this point. Where are you?”
“I'm just outside the pawnshop.”
“It's locked.”
“Not anymore.” And he disconnected.
“Who was that?” Cramp asked.
“My pimp.”
“Jesus, I told you and told you I don't have any money. What do you want? Take anything in the shop. How about some jewelry? It's all fake but it's still good shit.”
Diesel strolled into the front room and looked at Cramp, and I could see Cramp start to sweat through his shirt.
“Is there a problem?” Diesel asked.
“No problem,” Cramp said. “I told her to take anything she wanted from the shop. Hell, she didn't even do anything.”
Diesel slid a look my way. “Is that right?”
I shrugged.
Cramp looked at Diesel. “Are you going to hit me?”
“Maybe,” Diesel said.
Cramp's nose was running and his eyes were red-rimmed and tearing up. I was starting to feel sorry for him. He was such a pathetic little worm.
“You aren't a cop, are you?” Cramp asked me.
“No. I'm not a cop.”
Cramp looked over at Diesel.
“He's not a cop either,” I said. “Actually, I'm not sure what he is.”
Diesel didn't crack a smile. “Do we have any more business here?”
“No. He hasn't got any money.”
“Then it looks to me like we're done here,” Diesel said. “Let's roll.”
“Here's a parting message,” I said to Cramp. “If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.”
Diesel wrapped his arm around my neck when we got outside. “What was with the profound message?”
“He thought I was a hooker and he was going to get a freebie.”
Diesel hugged me to him. “The guy's a moron. Anyone can see you're not the sort of girl who gives freebies.”
“Gee, thanks. I told him you were my pimp.”
“Lucky me.”
“He has the supposedly stolen necklace and the assault gun in a crawl space under the back room. Do you think we should get it?”
