said.
His partner scowled and went inside.
“What can you tell me about him?” I asked.
“Jed’s a strange kid,” Botters said. “He’s been down to the station house fifty times for doing stupid things like loitering and creating a disturbance. It was sort of a running joke. He liked to stand in the booking area, and call us a bunch of fucking liars.”
“He called me that, too. Did he ever mention missing evidence from his father’s trial?”
“All the time,” Botters said.
Botters shoved the Ziploc into his pocket, and went into the house. A policeman who went strictly by the book, he couldn’t charge Jed with any crimes, so he wasn’t going to do anything.
I spent a few minutes mourning my car. Its headlights were smashed, the hood an accordion. The engine hissed as I drove it away, with wisps of steam escaping from beneath the hood. Even Buster seemed alarmed by the dire sounds it was making.
“I can make her pretty again, but it’s gonna cost you,” Big Al, owner of Big Al’s body shop, told me a half hour later. We’d gone to high school together, and after Big Al had gotten out of prison for peddling marijuana, I’d looked him up, and renewed our friendship. He dropped a meaty hand on my shoulder. “You ready?”
We were standing in the dusty yard of his shop in Dania, our shadows looming large in the dirt. My Legend was parked a few yards away, her pretty exterior marred by a young man’s rage. I braced myself.
“Ready,” I said.
“Twenty-four hundred bucks, and that’s just for parts.”
“How much for the labor?”
“Nothing. I don’t make a profit on my friends.”
I removed my wallet and took out my last credit card. I kept the card for emergencies, and I dropped it into Big Al’s hand, then gave him a bear hug. From the mechanic’s sheds came a loud wolf whistle.
“Get back to work,” Big Al yelled.
We retreated to his office, a disastrous affair with bills and invoices strewn across a desk and a radio that played nothing but Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. I had spent many hours in this office talking to Al about getting my life back together, a subject on which he was an expert. For years I’d thought he was still selling dope on the side, the lure of easy money hard to get out of your system. But I’d discovered that wasn’t the case. Big Al put in long days and made his money honestly, and I admired him for that.
Big Al got on the phone, and soon had a replacement hood, front lights, and a brand-new transmission. Hanging up, he said, “I’ll have your baby fixed in a day or two.”
“Thanks, man,” I said.
I went outside with my dog. The days were heating up, and I stood in the shop’s shade, and took stock of my situation. I was no closer to finding Sampson than when I’d taken the case, and now I was without wheels. Jessie was always telling me to look on the bright side of things, which was quite a challenge in this situation. I leashed Buster and headed down the road toward Tugboat Louie’s.
Distances were deceptive in south Florida. The land was as flat as a pancake, so it was easy to mistake a long trip for a short one. By the time I got to Louie’s, my feet were aching and I was drenched in sweat. I could almost taste an ice-cold drink as I opened the front door. Then I heard a car door slam, and I turned to see Candy Burrell barreling across the lot toward me.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” she asked.
Her tone said I was in trouble. The question was how much?
“What did I do?” I asked.
“Get in my car,” she said.
Burrell drove a sexy red Mustang with racing stripes painted down the side, the kind of car I’d drive if I had the money. I made Buster lie down on the pavement, then got in. Burrell got behind the wheel and glared at me. “Let’s see. You grilled Ron Cheeks without clearing it with me. Then you grilled Jed Grimes, also without clearing it with me. You also let Jed Grimes get away without explaining how that cell phone and pair of panties got in his mother’s garbage pail, knocked his ex-wife to the ground, and had your dog attack LeAnn Grimes. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“Not for me,” I said.
“Don’t push it, Jack.”
“Do you want to hear my side of it?”
“I’d love to, only I’m meeting with the mayor in fifteen minutes. He wants an update on the Sampson Grimes investigation.”
The mayor of Fort Lauderdale was an egotistical blowhard, and having a meeting with him usually meant getting yelled at. I felt bad for Burrell. She’d stepped in shit with this case, and the slide was getting progressively worse.
“I want to ask you a question,” Burrell said. “Jean-Baptiste Vorbe, the manager of the Smart Buy in LeAnn Grimes’s neighborhood, called the station house this morning. He wants to file a complaint, and indicated it had something to do with the Grimes investigation. Is this something you did?”
I thought back to my visit to the Smart Buy. I’d gone behind the store, and chased away the Asian tourists who’d wanted to have their pictures taken by the Dumpsters. I hadn’t seen anyone watching, although you never knew.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I didn’t go into the store, and I didn’t talk to anyone except some tourists who were hanging around outside.”
“Exactly what did you say to them?”
“I chased them away.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“They were ghouls.”
Teeth clenched, Burrell looked at her watch.
“We’ll continue this conversation later,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I got out of her car and watched Burrell pull away. I knew what was bothering her. Because I’d agreed to work with the police, she’d wrongly assumed that I’d play by their rules. But I played by my own rules these days. Sometimes it got me in hot water, but I slept better at night. It was a trade-off I could live with.
I entered Louie’s thinking about the manager at the Smart Buy. There was a chance he knew something, only Burrell hadn’t sent anyone to speak to him, wanting to first find out if I’d harassed the guy. It was typical of how the police thought, and it gave me an idea.
I went to my office, and threw on the change of clothes I kept there for emergencies. Then I walked down the hall and knocked on Kumar’s door. He told me to come in, and I found him sitting at his desk, working on the books.
“Jack, Jack, how are you? I hope things are going well,” Kumar said.
“I had a little problem this morning,” I replied.
Kumar raised his eyebrows in concern. “A problem?”
“A guy smashed up my car. It looks like I’m going to be without wheels for a couple of days.”
“Would you like to borrow the company pickup truck?”
Everyone in the world needed a guardian angel. Mine was Kumar. He pulled a key ring from the center drawer in his desk and tossed it to me.
“Keep the truck for as long as you want,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
T he cashiers inside the Smart Buy were looking at baby pictures when I walked in. The store was quiet, and
