“Club,” he repeated with a slight sneer. “They can call themselves whatever they want, but it won’t change what they are—a law-breaking gang of thugs.”
“Um…okay. So, what’s the connection?”
He leaned even closer, and Lou had to resist taking a step away from him. She wasn’t sure why he had to be so close. It wasn’t like there were any other customers in the shop who could possibly overhear. “There was an item caught on the weight holding down the body. It has the gang’s symbol on it.”
“Really?” She was quiet for a few seconds as she processed this. “That seems sloppy of them.”
“We think it might be a signature. You know, the killer wants everyone to know not to mess with the club.”
“Gang, you mean?”
“Yes, of course.” He eyed her suspiciously but didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm, because he continued, “This information needs to be kept confidential, since those Hells Angels wannabes have their guys planted everywhere, even in the county emergency services.”
That confused her for a few seconds until realization hit her. “You mean Ian Walsh?”
His mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour. “Fire should’ve never let one of them join. His loyalty is always going to be to his gang of criminals.”
“Why can’t he be loyal to both?” Lou asked with true curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, Ian’s a good firefighter.”
Lawrence drew back, his lips pulled into so tight a line that they pretty much disappeared. “You can’t play both sides of the law.”
“But—”
“Excuse me.” He pushed away from the counter abruptly. “I have to go. We’re really busy with this murder case.”
“Okay,” she said to his back as he hurried to the exit. “Thanks for coming.”
He paused by the door. “What time do you get off?”
“Uh,” she said, trying to think of a way to deflect. “By the time I get done cleaning and closing, it’s pretty late.”
“I don’t mind late. How about I give you a”—his grin was so slimy that it made her want to smack him—“police escort home?”
Swallowing the urge to gag, Lou forced a polite smile. “Thanks, but Callum already offered. Some other time, maybe?”
His lips tightened again underneath his mustache. “Sure.” The palm of his hand smacked against the door as he plowed through it.
“Bye!” she called after him, but the only response was the flat jangle of the sleigh bells as the door closed behind the deputy.
She took a step toward the bathroom to continue cleaning and then stopped, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled up her contacts list and tapped on Callum’s name.
“Sparks,” he answered after a single ring. “Everything okay?”
She could hear voices in the background. “Sorry, are you busy?”
“No, hang on.” There was some muffled talking and then silence. Several seconds later, he spoke again. “I’m glad you called when you did. That meeting with the regulator reps was over a half hour ago, but they wouldn’tleave.”
“No problem.” She grinned. “I’m shocked you didn’t just kick them out.”
“I try to be diplomatic.”
“You do? Since when?”
“Why did you call?” She could tell he was trying to sound irritated, but amusement leaked through into his voice.
“Deputy Lawrence paid me a visit,” she said. “He made a big deal about not being able to give me any information about the HDG case, and then proceeded to tell me there was something with the Liverton MC’s logo on it attached to the weight holding down the body.”
“Hmm.”