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“Looks like business is slow.”
Mack glanced around. High Roads Insurance Company had a large sign taped to a dusty window that read 'Closed'. Mack wondered if the business was really closed. He didn't have time to check. Amy Davison was his target for the moment.
“Maybe not,” he told Brenda, opening a creaky, rusted door.
Brenda stepped past Mack and slipped into a greasy diner that smelled of burned eggs and hash browns, old coffee and cigarette smoke. Its worn-down brown booths were badly ripped in places, exposing a yellowish stuffing. A skinny old man stood behind the counter wearing a white hat and a white apron, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette. When the old man saw Brenda and Mack step through the front door, he made a sour face.
“I don't serve cops. Get out,” he barked.
Mack knew this place well enough to ignore Frank. He scanned the diner and spotted two hotshot teenage boys wearing fancy leather jackets standing next to a booth where two pretty girls sat. The diner was empty otherwise.
“Looks like business is good. Let's move,” he told Brenda.
Brenda nodded her head.
“I said get out!” Frank barked loud enough to get a girl’s attention. Brenda turned and shot Frank a look that quickly made the old man shut his mouth.
Amy Davison poked her head out of the booth, spotted Mack and Brenda approaching, and rolled her eyes. “You guys better fly.”
The other girl, a snotty blond brat, sighed. “I need a few hits anyway. Who has a joint?”
Mack waited until the other teens split the scene. Walking past him, Brenda with sarcastic and cold eyes slipped into Amy's booth.
“Your tears have dried up.”
“Hey, a girl can't mourn forever,” Amy answered in a snotty tone. “What do you want?”
“I'm someone who is going to slap your smart mouth into the snow,” Brenda promised Amy in a tone that made the snotty girl tense up. “You shut up, answer the questions you're going to be asked, and then go whine to whoever will listen about how two cops mistreated you.”
“Hey, you can't--”
Brenda slammed a hard fist down onto the table, making the rusted napkin dispenser jump.
“Your boyfriend is dead. That boy is never going to come back home and eat a microwave dinner or look outside his bedroom window at a dirty street. His body is laying in a cold morgue. If you don't talk, you could be next.”
“Me?” Amy gasped in horror. “What did I do?”
Mack let Brenda take charge. He leaned back, folded his arms, and waited.
“You know who killed Alonzo,” Brenda hissed. “Don't deny it. If you do, I'll get a court order and attach you to every lie detector test known to man.”
“I… well...” Amy actually began to sweat. Most cops in her neighborhood could have cared less if she lived or died. Most cops just looked the other way to protect their own backsides. That was the law of the streets, an unspoken code that no one dared to break. “Look… I don't know nothing, miss.”
Brenda locked her eyes on Amy's bitter face.
“I'm probably being followed. And you better believe that if Joey Curanto sees me talking to you, well, he’ll want to know why.”
“Hey! what?” Amy shot her eyes out of a grimy window and studied the snow. She didn't see anyone watching that diner. But in her neighborhood, there were unseen eyes lurking in every shadow.
“Talk to me!”
Mack was impressed at how quickly Brenda had broken her.
“Amy,” he spoke, deciding to play the good cop, “Let us help you. If you refuse, you’ll probably end up like Alonzo.”
“I don't know anything,” Amy insisted in a shaky voice. She kept her eyes on the snow. “Even if I did… no one betrays Joey. No one!”
“You were on 'Dazed'. If you deny it, I can track down your IP address,” Brenda warned and decided to take a daring chance. “A person who goes by the name 'Jadedrosepedal1712' introduced Alonzo to 'Underyournose’,”
