"Delilah."
"How do I get in touch with Delilah?"
"I don't know. It wasn’t a long-term relationship.”
"Was this by chance a transactional relationship?"
His face wrinkled at me. "What do you mean?"
"Did you have to pay Delilah for her company?”
"I don’t have to pay for nothing." He laughed. "Bitches be throwing that shit at me.” He looked at JD. "Like you said, better to be a has-been than a never-was-been.”
"Where did you meet Delilah?" I asked.
Gavin hesitated a moment. "I don’t gotta tell you.”
"Did you pick her up on Dowling Street?"
A guilty frown tugged his face. "I didn’t have to pay nothing. She was just happy to lend a hand, if you know what I mean.”
I figured that with some doing, we might be able to track down Delilah.
"You mind if we take a look around your apartment?"
His face wrinkled again. "What for?”
Whoever killed Coach Madison would have been covered in blood—arms, legs, torso, shoes.
"I believe you're going to need some kind of warrant for that."
"No problem. We can get one. You already admitted to a strong desire to kill the man. Your alibi for last night is questionable at best. Delilah might not even remember servicing you.”
That was probably the biggest insult. His jaw tightened, and the veins in his forehead bulged. Gavin Carter didn't have much, but he still had his ego and his legacy—perhaps one of the most promising running backs that failed to launch. Paying for company, only to be forgotten the next day, was a tough pill to swallow by the former star.
Gavin's brain worked overtime as he processed everything.
There was a reasonable chance we might be able to get a judge to sign off on a warrant. It wasn't a slam dunk by any means.
"Sucks about your DUI. Looks like you're out of a job again." I said it just to get under his skin. Sometimes people make errors when they’re pissed.
"That's bullshit! I wasn't even drinking. That machine is wrong. The whole thing is rigged."
I didn't buy it, but that was his story, and he was sticking to it.
17
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm gonna let you search my apartment!” Gavin said, reining in his temper and actually using his brain.
"What do you have to hide?”
"Why am I automatically hiding something just because I want to exercise my Fourth Amendment right?"
I shrugged and said, "We'll be back.”
"I’ll count the minutes," he snarked before stepping back into the apartment and closing the door. He flipped the deadbolt, then peered out the peephole again and watched us as we walked away.
We took the pathway through the complex.
