of my own, then closed the door and pinched my nose at the smelly food wrappers littering his dashboard.
"Sorry. I usually clear it out at the end of the day," he said, scooping up the wrappers in both hands. "But I can see you're the fastidious type, so I'll do it now ."
He hopped out of the car while I pulled the seat lever and my legs unfolded. Slightly more comfortable, I waited while Del scurried off to deposit the litter in a can. I was still curious enough to overlook his ridiculous behavior, at least long enough to meet his informant.
When he got back into the car, I tsked. "It may be the local Stop and Rob, Del, but I think you're safe with me."
"Very funny. Are you satisfied with the interior now? Are we good to go?"
"Go where? This isn't it?"
"No, we get to meet him somewhere else and it's best if we get there in one car."
"Jeez, you could've told me that sooner, you know. It might've saved me the hang-up at the police station."
He tilted his head down and looked at me over imaginary teacher's glasses. "I tried that, at Roxanne's, remember? Wouldn't have any of it, would you? See what happens when you don't listen to Uncle Del?"
"Okay, I'm listening now, and you promised to tell me about Miss Cook."
"I most certainly did not," he said, scanning the faces of the people going in and out of the AM/PM.
"What do you mean?" I sputtered, "You said—"
"I asked you if you were still interested in Merri Cook. I got a police scanner, heard all about it. Your Caddy in a mix with reported gunfire. Easy to look up the owner for the address, so ipso facto , you must be interested in her whereabouts. Am I right, or am I right?"
"She's Billy Wayne's aunt. She called me, left me a note to come see her. Now, I'm in more hot water because of it."
"Forget about Merri Cook. This is way better. Trust me, you're going to thank me for this," he said starting the car.
I muttered a curse and reached for the door. He put out a hand to stop me, and in a reflexive gesture I fisted him in the nose—hard.
He grabbed his face. "God damn, that hurt!"
I opened the door and got out.
"Wha'd you do that for? I dink you bwoke my dos." Blood was leaking between the fingers he held over his nose. "Lalla, would you pleath wait?"
I hesitated. How could one short, fat man make me so mad? Probably because so far, it had been one hell of a long day and there was no promise that it might get any better hanging out with Del Potts. I took another deep breath and asked myself the redundant question: What am I here for, if not to find Billy Wayne's killer? I could do this—I could put a lid on my exasperation and see where this was going.
"Wipe your nose, and tell me why you think I should get in your car again, much less go anywhere with you."
"Okay, okay. Duth gib me a minute?"
I squatted down to look. "Take your hand away and let me see."
It may have hurt like the dickens but it didn't look broken. I knew broken, since I'd broke mine twice; once trying to catch a fielded ball in a softball game, and then last year during a crash landing when my face became intimate with the metal components of my plane's instrument panel.
He took the tissue and blotted the bleeding nose. "Do you really hate me so much?"
"What do you expect, Del? You're working on my last nerve."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm every woman's worst nightmare. Okay, so if you can, for just one minute, let go of your disgust?"
"You got ten seconds."
"Awright, okay, lemme explain. Word is that one of the bums saw Billy Wayne's killer. But since dodging cops comes second nature to these guys, being the wily bunch that they are, they've all gone to ground. But, our luck has changed tonight because one of them wants to talk."
"And?"
"I'm getting to that. Your picture has been in the papers, so it stands that he should want a look at Billy Wayne's love interest."
"Will you give it up about me and Billy Wayne? I spoke exactly two words to the guy, 'nice job,' or something to
"Sorry. I usually clear it out at the end of the day," he said, scooping up the wrappers in both hands. "But I can see you're the fastidious type, so I'll do it now ."
He hopped out of the car while I pulled the seat lever and my legs unfolded. Slightly more comfortable, I waited while Del scurried off to deposit the litter in a can. I was still curious enough to overlook his ridiculous behavior, at least long enough to meet his informant.
When he got back into the car, I tsked. "It may be the local Stop and Rob, Del, but I think you're safe with me."
"Very funny. Are you satisfied with the interior now? Are we good to go?"
"Go where? This isn't it?"
"No, we get to meet him somewhere else and it's best if we get there in one car."
"Jeez, you could've told me that sooner, you know. It might've saved me the hang-up at the police station."
He tilted his head down and looked at me over imaginary teacher's glasses. "I tried that, at Roxanne's, remember? Wouldn't have any of it, would you? See what happens when you don't listen to Uncle Del?"
"Okay, I'm listening now, and you promised to tell me about Miss Cook."
"I most certainly did not," he said, scanning the faces of the people going in and out of the AM/PM.
"What do you mean?" I sputtered, "You said—"
"I asked you if you were still interested in Merri Cook. I got a police scanner, heard all about it. Your Caddy in a mix with reported gunfire. Easy to look up the owner for the address, so ipso facto , you must be interested in her whereabouts. Am I right, or am I right?"
"She's Billy Wayne's aunt. She called me, left me a note to come see her. Now, I'm in more hot water because of it."
"Forget about Merri Cook. This is way better. Trust me, you're going to thank me for this," he said starting the car.
I muttered a curse and reached for the door. He put out a hand to stop me, and in a reflexive gesture I fisted him in the nose—hard.
He grabbed his face. "God damn, that hurt!"
I opened the door and got out.
"Wha'd you do that for? I dink you bwoke my dos." Blood was leaking between the fingers he held over his nose. "Lalla, would you pleath wait?"
I hesitated. How could one short, fat man make me so mad? Probably because so far, it had been one hell of a long day and there was no promise that it might get any better hanging out with Del Potts. I took another deep breath and asked myself the redundant question: What am I here for, if not to find Billy Wayne's killer? I could do this—I could put a lid on my exasperation and see where this was going.
"Wipe your nose, and tell me why you think I should get in your car again, much less go anywhere with you."
"Okay, okay. Duth gib me a minute?"
I squatted down to look. "Take your hand away and let me see."
It may have hurt like the dickens but it didn't look broken. I knew broken, since I'd broke mine twice; once trying to catch a fielded ball in a softball game, and then last year during a crash landing when my face became intimate with the metal components of my plane's instrument panel.
He took the tissue and blotted the bleeding nose. "Do you really hate me so much?"
"What do you expect, Del? You're working on my last nerve."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm every woman's worst nightmare. Okay, so if you can, for just one minute, let go of your disgust?"
"You got ten seconds."
"Awright, okay, lemme explain. Word is that one of the bums saw Billy Wayne's killer. But since dodging cops comes second nature to these guys, being the wily bunch that they are, they've all gone to ground. But, our luck has changed tonight because one of them wants to talk."
"And?"
"I'm getting to that. Your picture has been in the papers, so it stands that he should want a look at Billy Wayne's love interest."
"Will you give it up about me and Billy Wayne? I spoke exactly two words to the guy, 'nice job,' or something to
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