Page 31 of Mensa's Match

Forty-five minutes later, they stepped off the elevator into the small lobby. Mensa clocked the two cops at the counter immediately. They were in plain clothes. Both stood with their sides to the counter, facing each other, which meant they clocked him and Whitney, too. One was younger and had brown hair cut in a crew cut, his brown eyes narrowed on Mensa. The other officer had short, gray hair and light blue eyes.

“Agent Blume,” the younger officer said with a fake grin.

Mensa’s defenses went up immediately, but he forced himself to stay calm.

If the officer’s behavior bothered Whitney, she disguised it well. She stepped forward and stretched out her hand to the older officer. “Whitney Blume, Officer…” she let that trail with a questioning tone.

The gray-haired man shook her hand, his lips quirking every so slightly. “Detective Robinson. This is Detective Fortner. You reported your car stolen last night.”

“Yes, sir. Do you have any leads?”

Detective Fortner aimed a pointed look at Mensa and back to Whitney. “Is this your boyfriend? Or can we talk with you alone?”

Mensa stepped closer to Whitney. “I’m her ride to her car, if you’ve found it.”

“That’s what’s strange about this. Why didn’t you take her home last night?” Fortner asked.

Mensa answered before Whitney could. “She told me her registration was in the glove box. That lists her address, and I sent a buddy to her place. He didn’t see anyone, but he felt like the place was being watched.”

“He ‘felt’ that?” Detective Fortner asked.

Mensa slowly dipped his chin. “Yes, sir. In your line of work, I suspect you trust your instincts even when they defy logic.”

Detective Fortner stepped away from the counter. “You don’t know a thing about my line of work.”

Whitney put her hands out in a calming gesture. “He didn’t say that he did. Do you have news? Otherwise, why come here and not…,” she trailed off.

The detectives being there signaled that something else had happened.

“Why were you at Twisted Talons last night? And why was Dontrell Barlow there with you?” Detective Fortner asked.

“Is this official questioning?” Mensa asked.

Fortner ignored him.

Mensa looked at Whitney. “Wait for a lawyer.”

Her brows lowered over her blue eyes. She wasn’t going to listen to him – as usual. That had to be the number one thing that bugged him. She was so damned headstrong.

“The answer to his first question is in my report from last night, Mensa.” She looked at the detectives. “I went to Twisted Talons for karaoke. Dontrell was there to deliver food to him.” She tipped her head toward Mensa. “I saw Dontrell, not knowing he was making a food delivery, and decided to say hello. I ran out to grab something from my car, saw it was gone, and I came back in to see if Twisted Talons had access to their security feeds. That’s when a man wearing a Corrupt Chrome Motorcycle Club cut joined me and Mensa. His cut indicated his road name was Rod. He offered to help me find my car. Dontrell came back from the restroom, and Rod threatened Dontrell.”

Fortner’s lips twisted with skepticism and he glanced at his partner.

“We haven’t found a member of Corrupt Chrome MC with that name or a member who fits the description you provided when you made your report last night,” Detective Robinson said.

"He's probably laying low," Mensa muttered.

“Why did you leave the scene when shots were fired?” Fortner asked.

Mensa glanced around the small lobby. “Why are we doing this here? Out in the open?”

Detective Robinson crossed his arms. “Can we trust you to come down to the station?”

Mensa nodded. “Sure. I have to gas up my bike, and we’ll be there.”

“Mind if we follow?” Fortner asked.

Mensa locked eyes with the detective. “Are we under arrest?”

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