"I am.”
Tad said to his girlfriend, "Record this."
She started to dig into her purse.
"Ma'am, I would ask you to move slowly and keep your hands where I can see them." Still in its holster, Mendoza's hand found the grip of his pistol.
I didn't blame him. Mendoza had been shot before.
By this time, JD and I were on the passenger side of the vehicle, ready for anything.
"Sir, I'm going to ask you to step out of the vehicle once again. If you fail to do so, I will arrest you for obstruction and resisting arrest."
Tad frowned, but complied. He unbuckled his safety belt, pulled the door lever, and climbed out of the low-slung sports car.
Mendoza escorted him to the rear of the vehicle, where we joined them.
Tad said, "I do not consent to any searches."
I flashed my badge and made introductions. "Special Crimes. We have a few questions for you."
The scowl on his face deepened. "Is that what this is about? Just pulling me over to harass me?”
We took over, and Mendoza walked back to the driver's side and scanned the vehicle, looking for any obvious signs of drugs or paraphernalia.
"You know Wesley Oliver, right?"
Tad's face soured. "Yeah. We went to school together.”
"Kinda surprised you weren't at his funeral today." I wasn't surprised at all. I didn't think a guy like Tad would want to show up to see his handiwork.
"I don't think Wes cared one way or the other whether I showed up today or not. Besides, I don't like to see my friends in caskets. Makes me depressed."
"I would imagine so, especially after you sold him the dope that killed him."
His brow lifted with surprise. "What!?”
"Cut the crap, Tad. We all know what you do for a living. That stuff you sell kills people.”
"I don’t know what you're talking about, man. I hadn’t seen Wes in a long time. Last I heard, he’d gotten clean. Good for him.”
"Maybe he got on your bad side. Maybe you dosed him up with enough fentanyl to kill a small army.”
His brow knitted, and he huffed, dismissing the notion. "Now, why would I want to do something like that?"
"Maybe you found out Wesley was working with the DEA as a confidential informant."
Panic filled his widened eyes.
I made it all up, but it had the desired effect.
Tad swallowed hard and said, "Wes was working with the DEA?"
It was a look of genuine surprise. I didn't think Tad was that good of an actor. It kind of crushed my theory.
"You know if someone dies from an overdose on junk you sold them, you can be charged with murder.”
Tad remained silent for a moment. "I think there's been some kind of mistake. Someone’s giving you bad information. You're operating under incorrect assumptions."
