Page 7 of Half Baked

“What happened after you two spent New Year’s Eve together?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“Hmm.” I’d wanted to ask Maddie about it, but it hadn’t seemed like a good idea after I’d asked her for space. I had to admit that all this space hadn’t stopped me from thinking about her nearly every second of the day. Or remembering kissing her and holding her in my arms and wanting so much more. Lance was right, it was patronizing of me to insinuate she was incapable of making decisions about what was best for her. Still, that wasn’t the only reason I was staying away. My father’s words at Christmas kept ringing in my ears.

“We both know we’re not planning to make a bust today,” Lance said. “This is a fact-finding mission.”

I looked around the car in an exaggerated manner. “I already know this. Who are you announcing it to?”

“Just reminding you, is all.” He lifted a shoulder into another lazy shrug. “Ifyou were thinking about taking off early to meet Maddie at the nursing home.”

He was full of shit. We’d been chasing the stolen car parts ring for weeks, and this was our first big break. What if we had to follow someone? A lot could happen while I was gone.

He gave me a pointed look. “Look. Noah. We both know—shit.”

I caught movement down the street—a middle-aged man heading toward the garage. He was probably in his late forties, early fifties. He had salt-and-pepper hair, beefy arms, and an air of confidence that almost begged someone to challenge him. I’d never met him in person, but I’d seen plenty of photos.

“What the hell is Joe Kipsey doing here?” Lance asked in disbelief.

Joe Kipsey was the owner of a bar called Cock of the Walk at the edge of town. Everyone and their dog knew both the bar and the Brawlers, a group of drug dealers who hung out there, were trouble. But no one on the Cockamamie force or the Wayfare County Sheriff’s Department had ever been able to find enough proof to nail anyone of significance to the wall.

From what little intelligence we had, the Brawlers were strictly in the drug business. They never mixed in anything else. But Kipsey was a new player. He’d swooped in about six months ago and taken over the bar and somehow the drug business. The previous owner had retired, hopefully to a beach somewhere and not a shallow grave. Before showing up here in town, Kipsey had been locked up for a decade, and he had a record littered with assaults, batteries, and attempted murders. In short, he was bad news. Maybe he was looking to expand the Brawlers’ range.

“Having his car worked on?” I asked with plenty of skepticism.

Lance grabbed the binoculars from the center console and held them up to his eyes. “It’s him, all right.”

“I thought Kipsey didn’t typically leave his property.” There was a residence attached to the bar, which made it easier for him to hole up in his newfound kingdom.

“He doesn’t,” Lance said, his voice tight.

Now, my interest was really piqued. “Can’t be a coincidence.” Still, it didn’t make sense that he’d turn up in person to oversee the delivery of a stolen car. Why risk his freedom for something so minor? Had our intelligence been wrong?

Kipsey disappeared into the building and then headed to the back of the garage, out of view of our prying eyes.

“Dammit,” I grumbled. “What I wouldn’t give to have a bug in the place.”

“Or listening ears,” my partner said, unfastening his seatbelt.

“You’re not seriously considering going in there, are you?” I asked in shock.

He shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with me asking about an oil change.”

I shook my head. “You won’t hear anything. They’d never talk that close to customers.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, reaching for his door handle. “But I can scope the place out. See if the employees are skittish about Kipsey showing up on the property. Or if they look like they’re used to having him around.”

“Still,” I said. “They might not appreciate a cop showing up at the counter when a known bad guy is in the back.”

“Good thing I don’t look like a cop.” He was right. He was dressed in jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt.

“What if someone recognizes you?”

“I don’t know anyone there. Don’t worry so much.”

“But if someone knows you’re a cop, it could blow the whole thing.”

Lance opened the door. “That’s not likely to happen. The risk is low in comparison to the possibility for reward.” He nodded to me. “Text Maddie that you’ll meet her.” He got out and shut the door before I could answer.

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