Page 95 of Givin' Me Fitz!
“Gree, what’s up? Please don’t tell me I gotta go bail someone out?”
I heard laughter. “Well, kinda. Jim Middleton has been released from custody of the LVPD. He’s ready to be picked up at the MLK Jr. precinct. It seems the police found his prints on the gun they believe killed Ricky Marlow, but the fact he’s without sight has them stunned as to how he could have pulled it off, so they’re releasing him. Spitzer said they’re going another way with the murder investigation.”
My gut churned. Did Jim tell the cops that he’d smuggled the gun in for me? Did he tell them it was me who shot Ricky Marlow?What the fuck am I going to do?
“Okay, Gree. I’ll go get him. Thanks for the update. I’ll see you Monday.” Fitz ended the call.
My father came into the house and quietly closed the door. “I’m going to sleep for a while then your mother and I are going to clear out.” He held out his hand to offer my keys to my truck, so I took them.
I noticed his hands were stained red, though he’d tried to wipe it off. “Is it done?”
My dad smirked. “Never tell your secrets to anyone except your legal spouse. Your spouse can never be forced to testify against you.”
He walked away, and I shoved the keys in my pocket and turned to Fitz. “Let’s go get Jim.”
We walked out of the house and up the hill to Fitz’s truck. I saw T-Roy and Tiny carrying out a tarp and tossing it into the back of Tiny’s pickup. They both waved as we got into the truck. T-Roy gave me a thumbs-up before they pulled away. Without asking, I knew Dad had done as we’d voted.
At least that part was over.
I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and found the betting slip from the fight. “Can we drive by the Ace of Spades? I need to see if I can cash this thing.” I held up the slip.
Fitz chuckled. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off, go get Jim, and then we’ll pick you up. What a fucking weekend.”
So. Damn. True.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fitz
Jim and I stepped out of the Las Vegas Police Department’s precinct on Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard and went to my truck. Jim had his mobility cane, and he was holding my arm for me to guide him. There wasn’t much traffic that early on a Sunday morning, so we easily crossed the street in the middle instead of using the crosswalk.
“Is my grandson okay?”
I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see me. “Yes. He was lying on the couch when I left him yesterday to pick everyone up. What did the cops ask you?”
Jim laughed. “They found my fingerprints on the gun they think killed someone. They asked me if I knew Richard Marlow, and I said no, because I didn’t. Detective Crane asked how my fingerprints got on the gun, and then he waved his hands in front of my face. Can you believe that shit?”
I chuckled. “How do you know?”
Jim got into the truck as I held the door. He folded the cane and I closed the door before walking around and getting in behind the wheel to pick up Sawyer at the casino.
I started the truck. “We need to make a stop before we go to my house. It’ll just be a second.”
“I don’t care. I have all the time in the world. I know that officer waved his hands in front of my face because I felt the wind from the motion. I wasn’t born last night. I knew he didn’t believe me when I said I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a gun. I can’t see at all, not even light.” Jim grumbled under his breath, which made me laugh.
I pulled into the parking garage and got a spot right by the casino entrance. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to find Sawyer.”
“Okay.”
I hurried inside and went to the sports betting area. Sawyer was sitting in a chair watching a highlight reel of Super Bowl games from the past. I sat down and stared at him for a moment, seeing worry and stress on his face.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” There were some pretty seedy characters wandering around, and I didn’t want to draw attention to us, so I didn’t take Sawyer’s hand like I wanted.
“I’ve got something to tell you, but I don’t want you involved. I’m sure I should leave you alone and never see you again.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “I don’t give a damn what you did. I don’t care if I go to prison. I’m not letting you get away. You are part of my soul, Sawyer.”
Before he could respond, a young woman came out from the sportsbook cage with an envelope. “Congratulations. Here’s the receipt for your taxes and your certified check. Have a good day.”
