Chapter 20
“Hotel Sierra-four, respond to a five-nine-four at four-ten Ellis Street. Caller says to pull around to service alley.”
Tim glanced at Kevin and nodded at the radio. Kevin picked up the handset and responded that they were en route. Why did that address sound so familiar? As soon as he turned left onto Ellis Street, he knew—Zoe’s bookstore was four-twelve.
Easing down the side street that took him to the service entrance, he saw Zoe, Elba, and a put-out looking man standing close to the back of the building in the alleyway. As soon as he cleared the car door his gaze sought out Zoe. From the set of her mouth, she was stressed but otherwise didn’t seem upset. He swore his heart had skipped a beat when he’d realized the address given was right next door to her, even though the call was only for vandalism.
“Finally!” The man broke off from the group and strode over to them. He waved an arm toward the building. “Look at this! Look what they did.”
Tim glanced at the building. Someone had spray-painted racial and derogatory slurs down the length of the building between the two service roads. Most of the graffiti appeared to be concentrated on the bookstore and Cafe.
“George, calm down. No one was killed,” Elba said. “This isn’t an actual emergency. The only reason we even called the cops is to get a report for the insurance.”
“It’s not the point. I pay my taxes and when I call the police I expect them to arrive in a timely manner.”
Ah. He was one of those. “Sir, is one of these businesses yours?” Tim asked.
“They’re all mine.” He swept an arm out. “I own all these.”
“He owns the building, but he doesn’t do anything except gouge us on the rent.”
Tim pretended he was jotting down a note to hide his smile. He could hear Elba roll her eyes. Glancing at Zoe didn’t help—she had pulled her lips between her teeth to keep from doing the same thing.
George spun around. “I do not gouge! I charge a very fair rate based on the location of the building and proximity to the market. Good luck finding better rates than this in this area!”
“Sir,” Tim said. “Can you give me a rundown of how you discovered the graffiti?”
“I found it, actually,” Zoe said. “I was putting boxes in the recycle bin and I saw the graffiti when I turned to go back inside. I went into the Cafe and told Elba and she called George, then we called you. Well…you know…the police.”
His lips quirked when she waved generally in his direction, a slight blush on her cheeks. The memory of her in his bed—asleep on her stomach, clutching a pillow to her with one leg hitched up—flashed through his mind and the blood flow in his body immediately diverted south. Kevin should probably interview her for the report.
“Kevin, why don’t you take Zoe’s statement? I’ll take Elba’s and then we can take Mr….?” He raised his eyebrows at George.
“Baker. George Baker.”
“Mr. Baker and then we’ll talk to the other store managers.”
“Elba?” He cocked his and had her follow him away from Zoe while Kevin pulled her off to the other side.
“Why aren’t you taking Zoe’s statement?” she asked.
He cleared his throat.Because all I can think about his bending her over the hood of the cruiser while I show her my night-stick.Holy fucking cliché.
“I’m sure you know we’re…uh…exploring something personal. It wouldn’t be professional for me to ask her questions in an official capacity.”
“It’s graffiti, not a murder scene.”
“Yes, but I don’t want there to be any perception of impropriety. If the insurance company tries to fight the claim, me questioning my girlfriend might be looked at strangely.”
Elba clasped her hands behind her back and swayed from side to side. “You called her your girlfriend.”
He counted to three, waiting for her to break out into theK-I-S-S-I-N-Gsong. She just grinned up at him.
“Can we get back to the graffiti?”
Her grin somehow got bigger, but she stopped swaying. “Sure. Like Zoe said, she came in and told me about it.”
“You didn’t notice it when you arrived this morning?”
