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“You didn’t have to, I’m a goddamn detective,” Sid said. “And even if I wasn’t, I ain’t stupid.”
“Why are we here?” Jack asked impatiently.
“While you two were bonin’, I was workin’. Guess you could say I got lucky, too – just not with a broad. No, that sounds gay. Never mind.”
“Cut to the chase, Sid,” I snapped.
“Jesus. Maybe you oughta invest in a vibrator if he’s not gettin’ the job done.”
“SID – ”
“Alright, alright. Lou’s got a meth operation goin’.”
I glanced at Jack. He looked stunned, so I knew it wasn’t a put-on.
“What?! You’re sure?!”
“Ninety-nine percent. Got all the signs – old ranch out in the middle a’ nowhere. Big-ass barn that’s about to fall down, but it’s got a couple of brand-new ventilation shafts comin’ out of the roof, and some shiny steel tanks out back. Unless they got a helluva lotta fartin’ cows in there, I figure it’s meth.”
“How the fuck did he put that together in two weeks?” Jack fumed.
“I don’t think this was a two-week job, Junior. Looked to me like it’s been set up for a while.”
“Shit,” Jack muttered.
He was probably feeling sick and infuriated as he realized how Lou had been playing him for months.
Good.
Fucker.
“How’d you find out?” I asked Sid.
“Trailed everybody’s favorite strip-club owner to the place last night. Buncha ugly fuckers went along with him. I cut the lights and took some photos.”
Sid pulled out an iPad. On the screen were shots in different shades of green: night vision. There was Lou, clear as day but green as grass. He was talking to some young, nerdy guy dressed in a Hazmat suit.
“You recognize the kid?” Sid asked.
Jack swiped through the photos one by one. “No… never seen him before in my life. But that’s Eyeball, Wild Bill, and Cowboy.”
“What’s with you bikers and the retarded names, huh?” Sid asked.
Jack just glared at him.
“I’m serious,” Sid continued. “You got a regular name. So does Lou. Why do all your other fuckups got names like Avocado Head and Beaver Ass?”
“Now’s really not the time for the comedy act, Lou,” I said.
“What the fuck is with you two?” Sid asked in exasperation.
I gave him a grim, totally insincere smile. “I just found out that Jack paid the Richards police department not to solve Ali’s murder.”
“Jesus Christ, it wasn’t like that,” Jack protested.
“What was it like, huh?” I snarled, turning on him. “You wanna explain exactly how the fuck it actually was?”
“Hey, you two wanna hold it down?” Sid asked. “You wanna play Jerry Springer show, take it indoors. Not out here with the civilians.”
