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“Sir,” Jim said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Jim glanced at Pete, then replied, “Asking about a job.”
“You’ve got a job,” I said.
“Better pay,” Jim said.
“What about worse company?” I said, earning a hard look from Pete.
Jim didn’t reply.
“You heard about your father?”
“I’ve got to get to my current job,” Jim said, turning toward his father’s motorcycle. He got on and sped away. I’d have to deal with him later.
“Do not fuck him over, Pete,” I warned.
Pete raised an eyebrow. “Got your eye on the boy, do you?”
“He’s got a chance. Especially with his dad back in prison.”
Pete laughed. “Right.”
I shifted gears. “What did Mickey Pitts do for Cleve Blue to get Cleve to promise him half a million dollars after he did his stretch in prison?”
“Ask Mickey,” Pete said.
“I did. He wouldn’t tell me. But he might have a different attitude now that he’s locked up again and facing the rest of his life behind bars.”
Pete shrugged. “Whatever Mickey was doing ten years ago is long past the statute of limitations. Why does anyone care?”
“You care,” I said.
Pete tried to look innocent and failed. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you were shacked up with Mickey’s sister, Faye, who is Cleve’s widow and scared to death of Mickey. Because she was paying Mickey off but lying to you about it. Because Mickey ran the Iron Wolves in these parts and wanted back in. Because I don’t think you guys have gone legitimate. I think you’re still doing whatever illegal shit you were doing back then. And I don’t want Jim Pitts caught up in it.”
Bartlett was trying to keep up, like he was watching a tennis match, his head going back and forth. There’s good cop and bad cop, but Bartlett was no cop.
Pete didn’t respond.
“Did you pay Mickey to kill Thacker?” Bartlett asked, which came out of nowhere but was worth a shot and surprised me. And Pete.
Pete looked at him. “Why the fuck would I do that? Thacker was a nobody to us.” He shook his head. “We were hunting for Mickey as hard as you guys. He’s lucky you got to him first. If we had, he’d be disappeared. You got to teach your woman to shoot better, Cooper. Three in the back and he’s still alive?”
“It was a pink gun,” I said. “Very pretty.”
Pete laughed. “Figures.” He nodded at my forty-five in its holster. “Should have given her that. Would have cut him in half. You’ve got hot loads, don’t you? One in the pipe?”
I changed direction toward why we’d come out here. “Did any of your guys steal building supplies here last Thursday night?”
“Sure,” Pete said. “You want their names? Told you. We’re here to provide security.”
Which meant Pete was extorting Cash to hire his guys or else there would be more thefts. Classic organized crime tactic. This was a waste of time, but we’d given George time to clear out. I hadn’t wanted Bartlett to be around when George hauled his stuff out on the walk of shame to his truck. He didn’t deserve that after his decades of duty to Burney.
“When does Pitts get released to the general prison population?” Pete asked, a question loaded with implications.
