Page 19 of Enforcing the Rules

“Fine.” I pulled out my phone. “Let me pass the word about the silver Malibu.”

Just as we were firing our bikes up, Jack ran out of the building, waving his arm.

“I remembered something else,” he said, stopping next to me.

“Yeah? What’s that?” I asked.

“The night I met Cochran, before we started talking, he was talking with the guy sitting on the barstool on the other side of him. They seemed like old friends. I don’t know the guy, but I’m pretty sure he runs the hardware store on Wallace Ave. I’m almost positive I’ve seen him behind the counter there before.”

“Okay. Thanks, man.” I nodded and looked at Memphis. “Guess we stop there first?”

Memphis gave a single nod, and we roared out on the street.

We rolled up at a stoplight kiddie-corner from Hansen Hardware. As we sat waiting for the light to change, Memphis pointed and yelled over our engines.

“Ain’t that the girl from the diner?”

I looked where he pointed and saw a girl with a long blonde braid, a ball cap on her head, and mirrored shades. I couldn’t be sure until my eyes scanned to the shoes she wore. I remembered them from the other night—sneakers covered in a silver sparkle like they’d been dipped in glitter.

I nodded as she jogged to a car parked at the curb and slid behind the wheel. She drove in the other direction, and I don’t think she ever saw us sitting at the light.

When it changed, Memphis and I rode through the intersection and backed our bikes to the curb in front of the store.

We dismounted and walked inside.

A guy stood behind the counter waiting on a customer, and a couple of high school boys stocked shelves.

We waited until he finished and his customer left.

“You the owner?” I asked once we were alone.

He eyed us up and down. “Who’s asking?”

“Name’s Utah.”

“Yeah, I’m the owner. You here to buy something?”

I ignored his question. “You know a guy named Charlie Cochran?”

“Never heard of him.”

I cocked my head. “Jack Simmons at Castle Auto Detail says you and Charlie are buddies.”

“I don’t know Jack Simmons either.”

“Said he sat with Charlie and you at the bar at the Pint House. Said that’s where he met Cochran. Cochran said he could help him with his taxes.”

“Look, I don’t know a Charlie Cochran. Last time I was in the Pint House, I had a couple of beers with a buddy from high school. Your friend must be confused.”

He didn’t appear to be lying, but I didn’t know this guy well enough to know his tells. Everyone had a tell when they lied. This guy was pretty stoic. I leaned my fists on the counter. “I hope for your sake I don’t find out you’re lying to me.”

He took a step back, lifting his chin. “If you’re not here to buy anything, you need to leave.”

I smiled, and, just to fuck with him, I looked at Memphis. “You need a hammer?”

Memphis grinned. “Nah. I got a bunch. Could use a new saw, though. Mine’s a little bloody.”

I tried to keep my shoulders from shaking. “True.”

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