Page 48 of Back in the Saddle

Considering Jinx’s occupation, her office was a patch of sidewalk across the street from the Sun Valley Motor Lodge, where Mr. Shithead, a recalcitrant informant, worked nights in reception.

Hopefully a double bang for our buck that night.

“Did someone buy some dirty magazines?” Harlow asked.

We all looked at each other.

No one piped up.

Shit.

“I don’t actually know where to buy dirty magazines,” Raye admitted.

“Me neither,” Luna said.

“Maybe they have them at one of those racy lingerie and sex toy places?” Harlow suggested.

“Maybe we just forget the pornos, whip out our Tasers and ask him questions, like Raye did when he spilled the last time,” Luna said.

“I think we need to develop him as a willing informant,” Raye put in. “You catch more bees with honey.”

“Gross,” Harlow mumbled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Give me the keys. I’m driving,” I declared.

“But—” Harlow began.

“I’m driving,” I stated firmly.

She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.

Raye handed me a set of keys.

We climbed in the Sportage. I backed out. Raye jumped out to turn out the lights, pull down the door and lock it.

And we rolled.

I then drove us directly to a seedy strip mall on Indian School, angled in a spot and parked.

The girls stared at the store in front of us.

“You vape?” Raye asked.

“No,” I answered.

“You smoke?” Luna queried, her voice pitched high with surprise.

“No,” I repeated.

“Um….” Harlow hummed.

I got out.

My chicks got out with me.

And with them following, I pushed into a business that was named “Smokes & Such” but its better title was “The Place to Maybe Get Murdered & Smokes & Such.”

It was a long, narrow space stuffed full of wares. Concrete floors. Cinderblock walls. Dark lighting.

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