The Easy Way Out

28

Goldberg steered the car slowly down the street of a blue-collar neighborhood trying to get off its knees and back onto its feet. "1811. It's on your side."

"You sure it's 1811?" said Hobbs.

"According to the Past Due Notice the kid got from the bank. 1811 Potomac Street."

Hobbs squinted, trying to make out the addresses on the modest brick homes in the fading light as soft snowflakes melted on the windshield. "Is that supposed to say 1807? I can't even see the 1 and the 7 looks like a checkmark." They passed another home. He pointed to Blake's house. "1811. Okay, here we go. The place is dark."

Goldberg parked the car and they got out. Hobbs eyed the rolls of old carpeting stacked at the curb on his way down the cracked walkway. He raised himself up onto his toes, peeked in through the front window, too dark to see inside, then knocked on the door.

The detectives waited, listening and surveying the neighborhood. Hobbs knocked again, this time more forcefully.

His partner walked around to the side of the house and made his way to the back. When he returned to the front yard he shook his head. "No lights in the back, either."

Hobbs' knuckles stung when he rapped on the door like he was trying to take it off its hinges.

Blake's neighbor stepped onto his porch, cautious when he saw the men in suits.

"How you doing this evening?" Hobbs asked.

"Good. Good."

"I'm looking for your neighbor. Blake Gannon."

"He doesn't actually live here. He's doing a reno."

"When did you see him last?" Goldberg asked.

"A few days ago." His congenial smile narrowed as he thought about the motive behind the question. "Not sure. Yeah, I think so."

"He's not in there?"

If he was, you'd hear him. Power tools, hammering. The dude is a grinder." He looked out toward the curb. "I don't see his car. Or Rachel's."

"Rachel?"

"His girlfriend."

Goldberg smiled. "We'd like to have a word with her, too." He pulled a card out of his pocket, walked it over to the neighbor's porch, and handed it over the railing.

"They're both real nice," the neighbor said. "Good people."

"If you see them, give me a call, would you?"

"They in some kind of trouble?"

"We just need to ask them a few questions," said Hobbs. "Clear up some things."

The neighbor looked like he wanted to say something, glanced at Hobbs then changed his mind. He nodded, eyes on the card.

########

Before getting into his car, Gizmo made a call. He drew a long pull on his cigarette. While waiting for Alex to answer, he scratched his forearm where a prison artifact was located, a self-administered tattoo.

"Yeah?" Alex was barely comprehensible through a mouthful of food.

"I'm down here in Virginia. I got a hit on the girl's car."

"That was fast." Alex smacked his lips.

"Yeah, the internet's a little quicker than your FAX machine."

"Fuck you, Giz."

"They ditched the car in the woods. Had stolen Maryland plates on it." He watched a teenage girl walking her dog across the street. "Hey, do another sweep of her boyfriend's car, will you? See if you can find old receipts, anything."