Mayhem & Mistletoe, стр. 47
“That I can’t tell you. People with any smarts know not to touch something new. The dudes out here cutting that junk will throw in random garbage. They’re not exactly measuring.”
Chantelle cackled like a loon. “They definitely not measuring.”
“I’m assuming people have died.” I thought of Van. “Could someone have an adrenaline rush from this stuff?”
“Anything is possible.” Sally Anne said. “All I know is that Beau was supposedly selling that stuff ... and the new guys going into that house were tight with Beau.”
“Did they all disappear at the same time?”
She shook her head. “It happened over a few weeks.”
While debating what I wanted to ask next, footsteps echoed on the sidewalk behind me. I stepped to the side to let whoever it was pass, but the man stopped directly in front of me.
“Who is this?” The older man, silver hair standing up in odd patches, looked me up and down as if I was the last taco on the plate. “New recruit, girls? I have to say, she’s ... very nice.”
I was obviously offended — seriously, what sort of prostitute wears Chucks on the job? — but I didn’t want to irritate Sally Anne and Chantelle in the process of standing up for myself. While I debated how to respond, Sally Anne did it for me.
“She’s not new, Rick,” she drawled, shaking her head. “Don’t be stupid. She’s asking questions about the halfway house.”
I was surprised by her honesty.
“Oh, yeah?” Rick’s caterpillar eyebrows migrated north. “Why would you care about that place?”
“She wants to know about the Hypno,” Chantelle said. “Seems old Beau got himself into a world of trouble and died in a Santa suit in Macomb County.”
If Rick wasn’t interested in the conversation before, he was now. “How did that happen?”
“That’s what she wants to know,” Sally Anne replied. “You lived in that house for a bit — with Beau.”
Rick pinned Sally Anne with a dark look. “You got a big mouth.”
“I’m fine with that.”
He glanced at me. “I don’t know nothing about what they were running. I didn’t want no part of that. That’s why I left.”
I was doubtful he left the house out of a sense of honor, but I let it slide. “Was Beau the leader of the gang, so to speak?”
“He was in charge,” Rick replied, “but I don’t think he was the big kahuna. I don’t know who he answered to, but there were a bunch of them running together.”
“And then there were a bunch of them leaving right after one another,” I mused, tapping my bottom lip. “I need to figure out why.”
“I don’t know that anyone in this area has that answer,” Sally Anne offered. “The thing is, this neighborhood isn’t the best place for you to be hanging out. You saw what happened last night at the house. You don’t want to get caught up in that.”
“Yeah, you’re tough for Macomb County, girl, but you’ll be swallowed up and spit out down here,” Chantelle said.
I recognized the truth when I heard it. This was not my normal territory and I stood out far too much. “That Van guy who was arrested last night died in the jail,” I said. “At first I thought it wasn’t possible he was high, that maybe he was killed by the cops and they covered it up, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Does it matter?” Sally Anne was blasé. “The dude is dead. He was into some bad stuff. Watch your back. You don’t want to get caught up in bad stuff either.”
“She’s a superhero,” Chantelle argued. “She fights bad dudes all the time.”
“Not bad dudes like this.” Sally Anne was matter-of-fact. “It’s all well and good that you want to solve mysteries, but sometimes the detective dies in those stories you probably read. Make sure you’re not one of those dead detectives.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s the plan.” I dug in my pocket for the money and handed them the entire wad. “Split it up ... and thanks for the information.”
Sally Anne’s expression was grave. “Don’t forget what I said. This could go badly for you if you’re not careful. This isn’t your sort of neighborhood. You should stick to your racist politicians. They’re jerks, but they’re more your speed.”
Oh, if only that were still a possibility. I was in this now. I just had to figure out my next step.
17 Seventeen
Back in Macomb County, I drove to the sheriff’s department. I had more questions for Jake, and this time I was going to insist he answer them. Unfortunately for me, I met a brick blue wall of mistrust at the bubble in the lobby.
“I’m sorry, but the sheriff is otherwise engaged,” Deputy Barney Patterson drawled, his smirk exaggerated. “I can take down your information and have him call you if he has the time ... but I’m guessing that won’t be for weeks or months at this rate.”
I narrowed my eyes. There were very few members of the sheriff’s department I could say I liked. There were a number I hated, and Barney was pretty close to the top of that list. He was just hanging on until retirement — he had something like two years left — and he wanted the least taxing assignments available. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him at a crime scene or working patrol.
“Are you really telling me you won’t at least call back there to see if he wants to talk to me?” I challenged.
Barney shook his head. “He said he didn’t want any disturbances today.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean me when he issued that edict.”
“He didn’t qualify the statement. If it were me, you would be the last person I’d want to talk to.”
“Right back at you.” I planted my hands on my hips and debated. “Fine. Call Derrick. He’ll see me.”
“He’s out working a case. That’s what we do