“You still haven’t answered the question.”
“I don’t. And before you ask, I still have some options before we have to give up. And one of them is perfectly legal and right in the book of good police work.”
“You know the book? That’s kind of a surprise.”
Andi shrugged. “I read the table of contents. That had to be enough. Anyway, I have an informant, somebody who always has his ear on the ground, so to speak. I’d say we pay him a visit and see what he has to say.”
“Wouldn’t he have contacted you if there was something major going on? Isn’t that what informants usually do?” At least that was how George had operated with his informants. Regular meetings where they told him everything that was going on.
Andi shook his head. “No, Skipper doesn’t contact me. If I need something, I go to him. I try not to overtax him. He can be skittish.”
“Now I’m curious.”
They packed their stuff and headed out to Cortez Street in North Charleston, a drive that took them almost forty minutes instead of the usual twenty due to serious traffic. The house Andi led him to stood a little apart from the others on the street and had a huge garden with four greenhouses in it, each of them fifteen yards long and five wide. The house itself could use a paint job but looked otherwise well-maintained, which surprised George. This wasn’t an area where people had time to keep their houses in repair. Even the fence surrounding the property looked solid, although some of the planks didn’t match with the rest. Andi stopped at the gate that went up to his waist and was flanked by two wooden poles which were connected by a third at the top and reached for a steel staff. When he pulled on it, a bell hanging from the beam over their heads rang, followed only seconds later by loud, aggressive barking. George took an involuntary step back when a large German Shepherd with an unusually dark coat sprinted around the corner. The dog reached them with a few leaps, put its front paws on top of the gate, and cocked its head to the side while growling lowly. The sound made the hair on George’s neck stand up. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with guard dogs, most of them not of the friendly variety, and wasn’t keen on adding another unpleasant encounter. Andi, on the other hand, was calmness personified.
“Hey, Indica, good girl. I know, I haven’t been here for some time. You’re such a good watchdog, girl. Such a good dog!”
The growling stopped. Indica pushed her head forward until her snout was level with Andi’s midsection. Her tail started wagging lazily, and Andi slowly reached out so as not to spook her. When she gave no indication that she didn’t like what he was doing, Andi started scratching her behind the ears. The wagging became more energetic. “Such a good, good girl. Now, can you tell me if Skipper is home?”
At the mention of Andi’s informant, the wagging went up another notch. Before Andi could “question” Indica further, a man stepped out of the house. He was middle-aged, George guessed around forty, about six feet, with some padding around his midsection. His dreadlocks reached down to his waist, and he had deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His skin was only a few shades darker than Andi’s, giving him a healthy look. The man whistled, and Indica turned around to bound toward him. This seemed to have been some kind of silent invitation because Andi opened the gate to step through. George followed, still wary of the dog, who was now sitting next to her owner, tongue lolling out.
“Andi, it’s been some time.” The man didn’t sound overly enthusiastic but wasn’t outright hostile either. George took that as a win.
“Skipper. You look good.” Andi didn’t seem fazed by Skipper’s cold shoulder. “This is my partner, George Donovan.”
Skipper snorted. “Now I know hell has frozen over. You don’t do partners, Andi.”
“Times change.” Andi shrugged. “Can we talk?”
“Can I say no?”
Andi simply raised a brow. Skipper huffed. “Thought so. Come in.”
They followed Skipper and Indica inside, where George was immediately assaulted by the very distinctive smell of marijuana. He looked at Andi, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. So Skipper was that kind of informant—one who was, technically, a criminal himself but too small a fish for the police to take him into custody. Skipper didn’t offer them a seat, let alone something to drink. He leaned against his kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest.
“What do you want to know?”
Andi obviously wasn’t deterred by this straightforward approach. His voice was as smooth as always, not showing even a hint of annoyance. George admired his restraint.
“Do you know anything about a human trafficking ring operating here in Charleston? Any rumors?”
Skipper’s entire stance sagged when Andi mentioned the trafficking ring. He put one hand on Indica’s head and sighed. “Terrible thing. I haven’t heard much, only some whispered comments on the quiet. Nobody seems to know anything, and you know howthatusually plays out.”
Andi nodded. “Suddenly everybody knows something.”
Skipper shuddered. “It’s impossible to say what’s true and what’s made up. The only facts I’m sure of are that a man who calls himself the Lion is trying to claim the Charleston territory as his base of operations for a human trafficking ring. The pimps aren’t happy about it because he apparently doesn’t like to share, but they haven’t acted against him yet, which means they either don’t see him as a real threat or they are too afraid to attack.”
“I tend toward option number two. Anything else?”
“No.”
George looked between Andi and Skipper. If this were his informant, he would have pressed for more, but he didn’t know the nature of Andi’s agreement with Skipper, which seemed definitely unusual, so he kept his mouth shut. Andi simply nodded.
“Thank you, Skipper. As always, you’ve been a great help.”
Skipper huffed. “Am I supposed to say you’re welcome?”
A twitch that could be interpreted as a smile rushed across Andi’s lips. “Not yet. But you can do so after I tell you about the barnacles starting to invade your greenhouse on the very left. They haven’t developed far yet, so you still have a chance to get them under control. I would hurry, though. They’re a determined bunch.”
