“Pop the hood for me,” I tell him.
He does. I unlatch it and open it up. Looks clean enough, but a lot of that is probably just superficial. Might be leaking like a sieve, for all I know. I close the hood.
“I can arrange for you to test-drive it if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary. Let’s go in your office and talk.”
I brush off the seat in front of his desk, then sit.
After he sits I say, “I’m not going to test-drive it, ’cause if it breaks down on me I’m going to come back and have your license taken away. We clear?”
“The car will not break down, sir. Rest assured.”
“Cash for the title, then, but it ain’t gonna be anything close to your asking price. The car’s got a hundred thousand miles on it.”
“You can make an offer. We’ll talk.”
“I’ll give you four thousand cash right now.”
“No, sir. I lose money on that. Lowest I will go is eight thousand dollars.”
“That’s not even close to a deal. Take six-five, or I walk outta here.”
He shakes his head, but more like he’s thinking hard.
I stand up.
“I’ll just go somewhere that wants cash, then.”
“Most of my business is cash, sir. Seven thousand and it’s yours.”
I don’t have time for this shit.
“Yeah, okay.”
He stretches out his arm to shake hands. I do it, but in disgust. He won.
Sixty-seven
The car drives okay, but it’ll never replace my Volvo. I’m sure the insurance company will consider the Volvo totaled. Despite that, I’m not about to hang on to this car for long. I don’t like where it came from. It’s like a dirty gun you get off a hit, just another throwaway.
I call Davidson on the cell.
“Hello, Frank.”
“Scott. Anything new?”
“Just hitting the street like we do, knocking on doors. Chief’s got almost every unit working this one. It’s really hard to talk right now. Can I get back to you?”
“It’ll just be a second. And I need you to stop with all this clandestine bullshit, Scott. You know me. I’m not about all that. You get anywhere with the possible university lead?”
“We’re working everything. Just take it easy. I’ll let you know.”
“Listen, Scott, the girl might already be dead. We both know Cordell Holm can’t risk the connection she has to him if she’s found. If she’s alive, she probably won’t be for long.”
“I know that, and so does everyone here. We’re working it through. That source you have on the street who’s giving you all this information, I’d really like to talk to whoever it is.”
“That’ll be the day, Scott. The source talks to me. I talk to you. It won’t happen any other way, so don’t ask again.”
“Damn, Frankie, for an ex-cop, you’re really starting to make a lot of enemies.”
“You be safe, Scott,” I say, then disconnect.
I make my way toward 16th and Fuller, a couple blocks from where the shooting occurred. I know it’s been canvassed and the area’s burning hot right now, but I have to see for myself and make sure they didn’t miss the Lexus, or maybe even a familiar face.
I gave Playboy’s number to the police so that rules out an okeydoke; they’ll be working that number, maybe even trying one themselves, so hitting the street is a safer bet for me.
I turn off 16th and onto Fuller and park along the curb just before Mozart. Euclid would be to the left, and 17th is a long block straight ahead. I last saw the hooptie going north on Mozart, so it more than likely hit Columbia Road, which is to the right.
I’m not close enough to the corner to see Euclid. I’m sure marked cruisers are blocking it off. I notice one parked farther up Fuller, at 17th Street. A couple of uniformed officers are standing on the southeast corner.
Aside from a couple of old Latina ladies walking down Fuller from Columbia carrying grocery bags, this area’s clear for now. Usually you’ll find a couple of boys hanging in front of the apartment building on the corner across Mozart, and even to my left.
I decide to roll out. I hang a right on Mozart and then another right on Columbia Road, see what’s going on at 16th and Park.
Sixty-eight
There’s a bus stop on 16th, across from the sitting man, a statue of some religious figure near the corner at Park Road. I take a seat on the bench next to an old black homeless man. He doesn’t give me a glance, just stares at the ground at his feet, as if he’s studying the cracks in the sidewalk. I already smoked up my cigarette, so I pull out another. It’s a little weird because I’m wearing my tactical gloves and still have my pack slung over my shoulder.
I offer a cigarette to the old man, holding it out to him even though he isn’t looking at me.