Page 64 of Hoodoo House
“All of the truth is such a…philosophical concept. Let’s give the bare essentials. We found the computer, we were attacked today and we don’t have the computer anymore. We’ll bring in the shot-up tire as evidence. They may be able to run ballistics on the bullet I suspect is inside near the rim.”
“And how do you know there’ll still be a bullet inside?” Charlie asked.
“One entry hole. No exit,” Declan said as he hauled the wheel out of the trunk. “I noticed it when I was changing the tire. You know, for a car that you claim to be your own, it seems strange that I was the one doing the dirty work.”
Charlie smiled then reached over and squeezed Declan’s biceps. “That’s because you’re the one with the necessary tools.”
Declan grinned and shook his head.
They entered the front door of the RCMP Drumheller detachment building and walked up to the officer on duty. He looked up from the notes he was scribbling and said, “How can I help you?”
“We have a four o’clock appointment with Sergeant Kaci Bowen,” Declan announced.
“You’re a bit late, aren’t you?” the officer said, sounding annoyed.
Declan hoisted up the wheel from the Beast and rested it on the edge of his desk. “Ran into a bit of gunfire on the way in.”
Declan dropped it back onto the floor.
The officer made no comment as he picked up the phone.
“Yeah. Your four o’clock is here.” He looked up at Declan and asked, “Names?”
“Declan Hunt and Charlie Watts.”
The officer went back to the phone. “Yup. It’s them. And from the looks of it, they brought you a gift.”
He hung up. “You and your spare can wait over there,” he said, pointing with his pen to a couple of seats off to the side.
Once they were seated, Charlie leaned over and whispered, “Do we tell them about the contents of the computer or about anything else we’ve found out?”
“Like I said before, just the essentials. Let me do the talking. I’ll play it by ear and use the ‘client confidentiality’ line if I have to.”
“Does that really work?”
“Not really. A wise-assed old man once told me ‘Cop trumps private-eye every time.’”
“Your dad?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Declan said, just as the inner door opened and a woman wearing a navy jacket and grey slacks entered the lobby.
“Mr Hunt?” she said, extending her hand.
“Sergeant Bowen,” Declan said, standing and shaking the officer’s hand. “This is my assistant, Charlie Watts.
“Mr Watts,” she said and nodded. “And this is…what is this?” she asked pointing at the wheel.
“There’s a story,” Declan replied.
“I bet there is. Follow me.”
Declan, carrying the wheel, and Charlie with his hands in his pockets, followed her to an office at the back of the main floor. She took a seat in an aged, duct-taped office chair behind her desk, and Declan and Charlie took the two chairs facing her.
“Coffee, gentlemen?”
“Love some. Thanks,” Declan said.
Charlie followed with his own “Yes, please.”
