Darker Than Blonde: An Alan Lawson Mystery (Escaping The Agency Book 1) by Julius Taven

Author:Julius Taven [Taven, Julius]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red River Thrillers
Published: 2024-02-15T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They dumped me in a holding cell with a suspected drug dealer. With any luck, Scarvaniski would have me out by lunch. She built her reputation on under promise and over deliver. It didn’t work out that way. Lunch came and went, and I made a friend with my cellie by giving him the bologna sandwich the prison called food.

He talked, and I listened while he regaled me with tales of human trafficking and drug running. He was way too open to be what he claimed, and when he let it slip that he knew my boy Curt, I had to fight an overwhelming urge to ask where he went. I didn’t. Either he was a jailhouse snitch planted to get an incriminating statement, or an undercover cop. His B.O. was the only thing that made him real. Fortunately, before they served the evening slop, a guard rescued me. Scarvaniski was true to her word, and I was released.

“Where’s Derick?”

“Processed about an hour ago. He didn’t want to wait at the jail, so his lawyer had a rideshare drive him to your ranch. Curious how I got you out?”

We were walking to her car. She wore the same suit she wore in the interview room. After twelve hours, she looked as fresh as a flower shop rose, and smelled way better. Hell, anything would smell better than that vomitized cell.

I said, “Just the crucial and the relevant, please.”

“If that’s all, I’m highly skilled, and the cops are inept. Where to?”

“Now tell me something I don’t know,” I said, and gave her directions to the ranch.

She smiled and pressed the fob to unlock her car, a black BMW. “First, why don’t you tell me what you were burning after midnight? That almost earned you another overnight stay, courtesy of Denton County.”

We buckled up, and she pulled into traffic. I said, “Derick checked real estate records for everyone involved, and after we found the GPS device, we knew the police would show up eventually, so we burned the printouts.”

She turned her head towards me, but whipped it back to focus on driving.

I said, “How did that give them reason to hold me? Every ranch in Texas has a burn barrel.”

“True, but you don’t find them smoking and warm after midnight, with the bin from a shredder sitting beside it.” Stopped at a light, she fixed me with a stare that asked for an explanation.

She continued, “If it wasn’t for the fact their witness was a liar, and stoned out of his mind, you’d still be enjoying the company of Denton’s finest.”

Was Curt their witness? Was he there when the cops arrived? I asked, “How is Curt doing, by the way?”

“How do you know about him? Why don’t you just tell me everything you’ve done, everywhere you’ve been, and everyone you’ve seen or talked to since you left my office yesterday morning?”

“Why didn’t you ask in the interview room? And what took you so long, anyway?”

She pursed her lips, and a horn blared from behind us.

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