'Is there a problem, Sheriff?' Eve asked.
'Well, ma'am, maybe not,' Brinkman drawled. 'I just came by to ask what you know about a car parked a half mile west of here, along Ten. An Acura.' He looked at me. 'Six, seven years old. Gray.' Back to her: 'Before I get it towed.'
'Oh, Christ, Brinkman,' I said wearily. 'You know it's mine.' Even on the protected porch the wind was cold. I suppressed a shiver.
He nodded unhurriedly. 'What's it doing there?'
'I had trouble.'
'When?'
'Last night.'
'In the storm?'
'Before that.'
'So you came here and bothered the lady?'
'Thank you for your concern, Sheriff,' Eve said. 'But Mr. Smith is a friend of mine.'
'Well, that's fine. I worry about you, is all, Miss Colgate. All alone out here like you are.'
Eve smiled. 'I've managed over the years, thank you.'
'Yes, ma'am, you have. Though you might want to be a little careful how you choose your friends.'
'I am,' Eve said. 'Very careful.'
Brinkman smiled pleasantly, nodded. 'Your power and phone back on yet?'
'Yes,' she answered. 'Since about nine.'
'Good. Then Smith can get a tow truck for that car. Save the county money.' His grin turned nasty. 'Why don't you call Obermeyer's? I hear they got a kid there real good with Jap cars.'
'I hear he hasn't been in much lately,' I said.
'That so? You suppose he's on vacation?'
I shrugged. 'Florida's popular this time of year.'
'Yeah, but it's no fun alone. You know a girl name of Alice Brown?'
'I met her yesterday.'
'You were looking for Jimmy Antonelli, she says.'
'That's true.'
'You find him?'
'She said she didn't know where he was.'
'She told me that, too. You believe her?'
'Most women don't he to me until they know me better.'
'I got the pretty boys from the state to put a tail on her.'
'Good luck.'
'She's too high class for that punk, anyhow.'
'I liked her, too.'
'But what I hear,' he said, lifting his hat, scratching his high, domed forehead, 'what I hear, he had a new sweetie anyway. Mark Sanderson's little girl. Sweet, blond, and fifteen. And guess what?'
'Tell me.'
'Her daddy hasn't seen her for days.' He settled his hat. 'God, I hope you're right about Florida, Smith. Lot of state lines between here and there.' He shook his head, chuckling to himself. 'Hey, he's not at your place, is he, Smith?' 'No.'
'Well, you're right. We looked.'
'You searched my place?'
He made an innocent face. 'We had a warrant. Nice place, too. Nice piano. Course, alls I can play is 'Chopsticks,' none of that culture stuff you city folks go in for. But it sounded pretty good. Didn't it, Art?' Behind his sunglasses the deputy nodded.
The thought of Brinkman's long, mean fingers banging on my piano brought hot blood to my face. 'Brinkman—' I started, stopped as Eve's hand closed on my arm.
Brinkman smiled, walked back around the cruiser, pulled the door open. 'Get that car taken care of, Smith,' he said. 'That's a bad stretch, and I don't want no more trouble on that damn road.'
'No more than what?'
He leaned on the top of the car. 'You folks had better things to do last night than listen to the radio, huh?
'Well, seems someone else had a problem, too. Someone in a blue Chevy truck. Ran off the road down there in the valley, flipped into the gorge. We're pulling it out now. Made a helluva mess.' He grinned a grin that showed me
