Page 50 of Trigger

“Blue-hairedfaggot, you say?” I repeated, scribbling into my notepad. “Do you know his nameor is that all you can think of?”

“Luke?Liam? Lyle? Something like that.”

“Luz?”Thorsen suggested.

“Yeah,that’s it!” Bob said, sounding relieved. “His name was Luz.”

“Canyou describe him?”

“Twenty-something,skinny, at least six feet tall. Good-looking if you like them fairies.”

“Cananyone confirm your whereabouts on September 8th, Bob? Especially around foura.m.”

“I wasworking at the club. My shift ended at five. Ask anyone.”

“It’snot exactly a bulletproof alibi, Bob.”

“Well,it’s the truth,” he bit out. “Are we finished here?”

“Notquite,” I replied. “Where can we find Davidoff? We have unfinished businesswith him.”

“If Iknew, I would tell you. He’s the reason I ended up here with two bullets in mygut.”

“Haveyou fallen out?” Thorsen said, pouting. “Was it a lover’s spat? An accidentalbullet exchange between friends? Or maybe Davidoff wanted to make sure you keepyour mouth shut?”

“Stayaway from me, Mount Everest,” Bob growled. “I’m the victim here.”

“Thorsen,you’re scaring our incapacitated friend,” I said, tucking my gun into theholster. “Let’s go before you give him a heart attack. And put that tube whereit belongs. We want Bob alive for his trial.”

Whenwe left Bob’s room, we both burst into laughter as Thorsen pulled me into aside hug.

“You’rea riot, partner.”

Ipushed him away, trying to keep a straight face.

“Knockit off. We’re on duty.”

“Nottechnically. Now what?”

“Howabout we go home, I call Chief Bibb, and convince him to let us get back towork?” I suggested.

“Musicto my ears. What are our odds?”

“Slim,probably, but I’m done sitting at home and twiddling my thumbs while SophieMalik’s killer walks the streets.”

Oncein the car, I checked my emails as Thorsen turned on the radio and started theengine.

“Buckleup, babe,” he said, tossing a piece of gum into his mouth. “I want to get yoursweet ass home in one piece.”

I letout an exasperated sigh. “God, please let my car get fixed today.”

“What’swrong with it?” Thorsen said, turning left into a crowded street.

“Someonecrashed it into a wall.”

“Comeagain?”

“Someonebroke into it, crashed it into a wall, and wrote ‘cop scum’ on it.”

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