Page 19 of Bazooka
Detective Vile giggled. “That makes one of us. But now that I’m here, I can see the appeal.”
Her double entendre didn’t miss me, nor the suggestive way her gaze slid down my body, but I pretended not to notice.
“I’m Patricia, by the way. I look forward to working with you, even for a short while.”
“Me too. I’m Levi.”
“If I may ask, why do they call you Bazooka?”
“No idea,” I replied thoughtfully. “I think it’s because some people find me intimidating, believe it or not.”
She burst into laughter. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Levi? You would stand out in the company of giants, let alone us humans.”
I chuckled. “And I wondered why the criminals don’t like me.”
When someone cleared his throat behind me, I turned, only to see Jordan Slade standing there. He looked anxious. Or constipated?
“I’ll leave you to it,” Patricia said, patting me on the arm. “See you later, Levi.”
I nodded before shifting my gaze to Jordan.
“Sorry to interrupt, Bazooka,” he muttered, fiddling with the folder in his hands. “I just wanted to give you the crime scene report from last night before I go home. From Pete’s.”
He handed me the folder, looking uncomfortable, and I knew exactly why he felt that way.
“Is that all you have to say to me?” I said, cocking my eyebrows.
“Huh?” he mumbled as I took a step toward him instead of a reply. His eyes widened in alarm because I towered over him. I towered over most people, truth be told.
“I didn’t mean to, I swear,” he squeaked. “Every time Luz asked for your number, I refused to give it to him. I was adamant about it. But he… he, like, tricked me every single time. One time, he invited me for coffee, and while I was in the toilet, he stole the number from my phone. And then, one time, he blackmailed me with—”
I raised my hand to stop him.
“I don’t care about your reasons. But if it happens again, Jordan… if it happens again…”
I left it unsaid and gave him the look—the one that usually made people run away from me. It worked on criminals, corrupt politicians, drug dealers,anddumb rookie detectives.
“It won’t!” Jordan exclaimed. “I swear on my grandma’s ashes.”
That guy. There was something wrong with that guy.
“Incidentally, how is Luz?” Jordan asked me, looking worried. “Is he alright?”
“He looks as if he had been put through a meat grinder, and he probably feels worse,” I replied honestly. “But he will live. What does the report say?”
“Not much. The storm washed away all the evidence, if there even was any.”
“I figured. CCTV?”
Jordan chuckled. “In Smitsville?”
Right.
“I’ll talk to the staff at Pete’s myself,” I said, leafing through the report. “By the way, if you see John Smith, tell him to call me ASAP.”
“‘Kay.”
I didn’t have much to go on, and the bad feeling in my gut increased after I arrived at Pete’s.
