“I’ll go with you tomorrow to retrieve the images I’m still waitin’ to hear what mess you got yourself into.” The cold brew goes down easy as she sighs and begins.
“I swear to God, I was as careful as I could be. When Caitlin called, I followed Bobby to a hole in the wall bar. From there, he walked to Columbus Place, entered an apartment building, and texted someone in the lobby. His hooker friend must’ve been busy so while he waited, I took a bunch of photos. I figured someone had to be selling drugs. There was a shitload of people going in and out, you know? And a lot of them were well to do. The neighborhood must be transitioning.”
I nod, beginning to understand why she felt safe and didn’t call.
“Anyhow, Bobby receives another text, starts up the stairs, and I trail him to the third floor where I took an excellent picture. A woman in sexy underwear opened the door which will be pretty damning evidence in divorce court. That is, if the police ever return my stuff.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was rambling. “The shooting, sugar?”
“Hold your horses. I’m getting there. So, I was heading back downstairs, heard a muffled gunshot, and like you taught me, fell flat to the floor.”
“Good, good.” This all sounds plausible. “How did you end up taking crime scene photos?”
“After the gunmen left, I went to see if I could help.”
“Wait a damn minute. You went back upstairs?” I give her my most exasperated look which she misses because her back is to me, grabbing another couple bottles from the fridge.
Returning, she slides one my way, sits and closes her eyes. “The shooters were long gone. I waited until they were outside.”
She’s probably right but it don’t make it any less dangerous. “You promised to be more careful.”
“I was, tough guy. I promise.”
She’s leaving something out. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Not really… Except… Why would the cops insist it’s a suicide?”
“Maybe they’re just lazy. Maybe a dead drug dealer isn’t worth their time and effort. You should let it go.” Even as it comes out of my mouth, I know what her answer will be.
“I can’t. It isn’t right.”
Ah, hell.
