“Galimore.” Curt.
“It’s Dr. Brennan.”
“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t check the caller ID.”
“I was surprised to hear from you. Figured you’d be completely jammed up with the situation at the Speedway.”
“They’ve turned me into a goddamn traffic cop!” Galimore sounded furious. “The bastards won’t let me anywhere near the garage area. Did you know there’s some question Gamble died by accident?”
“Yes.”
“Hallelujah! Everyone’s in the loop but the head of security!”
“Williams and Randall were here.”
“The freaking FBI. This happened on my patch. And what do I get to do? Freaking crowd control!”
“You going to break down now?”
“What?”
“It’s manly and all. But I’m not good with tears.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Getting in touch with your feminine side.”
For a moment I heard nothing but background noise. Then Gali-more chuckled. “You’re a real wiseass, you know that.”
“Yes. Why did you call?”
“While my people play mall cop, I’m going to do some real police work. You want to meet Craig Bogan?”
I did.
Gamble’s cranial fragments wouldn’t be ready for analysis for twenty-four hours. I had no other cases.
Hawkins would disapprove. Ditto Slidell.
Screw Hawkins and Slidell.
“I’m at the MCME,” I said. “Where shall I meet you?”
“Right outside. I’ll be there in thirty.”
I disconnected and dialed again.
This time the anger was pointed at me.
“What the hell are you thinking?”
“Good morning, Detective. Going to be another hot one out there.”
“Cotton Galimore is a slime-spewing, amoral, bastard of a scumbag.”
I had to give Slidell credit. His prose was creative.
“Don’t hold back,” I said.
“You’ve got no business breathing air with that freak show. He’ll use you, then ditch you like a snotty tissue.”
“Perhaps I’m using him.”
“Galimore’s a booger that you can’t flick off.”
“That was good. The way you expanded the metaphor.”
“What?”
“Why did you call?”
“The impending gang war turned out to be a cheating ex taking revenge on the love of his life. Killed her and the boyfriend, put the lady’s brother in the ICU.”
It is one of the most common causes of violence against women. The man threatens. The woman asks for protection, maybe gets a restraining order. Big help. The cops finally step in when Mr. Tough Guy actually batters or kills her. Every time I hear of a case like that, I feel the same outrage and frustration.
“If I can’t have you, no one can,” I said, voice coated with disgust.
“Yeah. Noble. Anyways, I’ve got a little downtime now, so I plan to check out the car Gamble and Lovette drove off in the night they disappeared.”
“The ’sixty-five Mustang described by Grady Winge.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking there couldn’t have been many of those. Wish I had the original damn file. I’m probably reinventing the wheel.”
“Are DMV registration records kept that long?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Any mention of the car in Eddie’s notes?”
