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“If he wants to tell us,” Slade said as we got out. “If they’re payinghim, he might not be so eager to pass on the information.”
I glanced at the barbed-wire-topped fence, making out the vague shapes of ruined cars and other metal paraphernalia through the green mesh that stopped outsiders from scanning for details. “We’ll be looking for clues at the same time. The other victims might not have come to us, but I know the makes and models of all four cars.”
Slade reached out his hand as if to knuckle my shoulder but stopped just shy of touching me. If it’d been anyone other than him or Logan, I’d have flinched in anticipation of the contact, but my friends knew how to adapt their friendly gestures to my comfort levels.
“Of course you do,” he said with amusement. “Let’s go hunting.”
We found the gate unlocked, like it usually was during business hours unless Darrel had some kind of private deal going on. As we eased inside, the unpleasant smell of heated metal and grease hit me. I wrinkled my nose.
The office door opened before we’d quite reached it, and Darrel’s short, sinewy frame appeared in the doorway. He smiled broadly at us, showing off his one gold tooth amid the lightly yellowed natural ones. “Boys,” he said in his boisterous voice that always struck me as a little too big for his body. “I was about to lock up, but I can make a little time for you. What’ve you come around to talk to me about today?”
He waved us into the office. We tramped inside, my skin prickling as the door thumped shut in our wake. I never totally liked being in an enclosed space with a known criminal, even one who’d proven as friendly as Darrel. You just couldn’t be sure whether you’d stay on their good side.
Darrel gave Logan’s arm a firm swat and leaned against his desk, still smiling. “Well, what’s on your minds?”
The office was impressively neat, really, considering the chaotic heaps of parts that filled the rest of the scrap yard. Darrel himself kept his presentation orderly as well, wearing button-ups and slacks without a hint of a wrinkle, though I knew he swapped those out for tees and jeans when he was working the machines.
I wasn’t totally sure what he made of our interest in tackling the criminals who ended up on our radar. We’d ended up onhisradar last year after he’d inadvertently pissed off a fledgling gang who’d started harassing his customers in retaliation. We’d already been investigating the small group of amateur gangsters for other reasons, and after we’d confiscated some money to cover his lost business when we sent them packing, Darrel must have realized that the quest for justice could work in his favor as well as against it.
He had a sharp mind behind his warm demeanor, and I respected that. As long as he didn’t outright hurt anyone to our knowledge, keeping a mutually beneficial alliance with him served our interests much better than trying to take him down for his own crimes.
Logan smiled back, smoothly but carefully. He knew as well as I did that associating with any kind of criminal was a dangerous balance. “We’re actually wondering if business has been particularly good for you in the past couple of months. Gotten any exciting new clients?”
Darrel arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t just going to blurt out his latest underworld associations. “What kind of exciting?”
“There’s been a rash of car thefts on the university campus. The latest belonged to a friend of ours, and we’re guessing the thieves would have been looking to sell it for parts. You’re obviously the guy to go to for that kind of job. Naturally we wouldn’t blame you for not realizing any particular vehicle had been stolen.”
Despite the assurance, I noted the slight tightening of Darrel’s posture. He knew that this case was taking us onto shaky ground, since he’d be a direct participant in the crimes we were looking into.
He didn’t betray any other discomfort. “What’s the make and model?” he asked. “I can tell you if anyone’s tried to hawk it here or if I’ve heard talk around town.”
And maybe he’d be telling the truth, or maybe he wouldn’t.
“2006 Chevy Malibu,” I said automatically. I’d filed away the details the moment Logan had said them and Madelyn hadn’t disputed them.
It wasn’t an outright piece of junk, but Logan’s assessment of the car being close to worthless was confirmed by Darrel’s snort. “Not exactly a luxury vehicle, then,” he said. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had any Chevys at all come through here recently.”
I’d been worried that he might lie to us, but I found I had no doubt that his answer was genuine now that he’d given it. He’d obviously been amused at hearing the details, and the stiffness in his stance had relaxed as he’d answered. He was relieved that he didn’t have anything to do with the crime. Possibly he honestly preferred not to lie to us now that we had a decent working relationship.
“These pricks obviously didn’t know what they were doing then,” Slade said with a chuckle.
Darrel echoed his laugh. “Maybe not. But I’m not the only option in this area—I may be the biggest provider of that particular service, but there are plenty of smaller chop shop operations in and around the city.”
“I guess we’ll have to start hitting up the other ones,” Logan said. “I don’t suppose there are any you figure are a particularly likely bet?”
Darrel made a face. “I don’t really keep track of them—they’re coming and going so often. If I do hear anything about a Malibu, I’ll give you a call right away. Otherwise, I can’t really help.”
That time he wasn’t being totally truthful. He was really saying that hewouldn’thelp us more than that. No doubt he knew of at least a couple of other active chop shops nearby, but it made sense that he wouldn’t want to create bad blood for his business by pointing the finger if he really had no idea who might have handled this particular car.
“Well, thank you for your time,” Logan said. “We always appreciate you lending your experience to our work.”
As we headed back to the car, I surreptitiously snapped a few photos of the scrap yard with my phone. I’d gotten very good at taking pictures without looking like I was taking them in the years since we’d started our lives on this course, because having a concrete visual record was so valuable. Even in the thickening dark, the yard’s security lights would show enough that it was worth documenting this visit.
We slid into the car in the same seats as before. I pretty much always ceded the front seat to Slade in consideration of his prosthetic, even though he insisted he didn’t need special accommodations. Extra leg room couldn’thurt, and I didn’t suffer without it. He was taller than me anyway.
Slade sighed and leaned his head back. “Now we need a new lead.”
“We go to the smaller chop shops,” Logan said. “One by one.”
