The Easy Way Out

36

Seated behind the steering wheel of a lustrous white Nissan Altima, an enthusiastic customer ran his hand across the passenger seat. "Is this the original leather?"

"Yes, sir, it is," James replied.

"Looks brand new." He got out, admiring the spotless vehicle.

"Only fifteen thousand miles. Sure you don't wanna take her for a ride?" James dangled the keys from his index finger. A stinging blast of wind shot across the lot, the red and yellow plastic flags above going sideways.

"I'll stop back this weekend." The man jogged back toward his car.

"I'll be here," James shouted, squinting as a drab green unmarked sedan wheeled in and parked. He watched two unfamiliar men get out of the car and enter the office. He waved goodbye to his customer then went into the office where he found Detective Goldberg examining the plaques mounted on the wall.

"James Robinson?" Goldberg asked, without looking up.

"Yep."

The detective counted the plaques. "Six, seven, eight times you made Top Salesman."

"Yep." He manufactured a smile but couldn't hold it.

"Don't see Blake Gannon up here."

Hobbs came out of the bathroom, drying his hands with a paper towel.

"James, how long have you worked here?" Goldberg asked.

"About three years." He leaned against the doorframe, looking from one detective to the other. They didn't need to introduce themselves, they were obviously cops.

Goldberg brushed a piece of lint from his suit jacket. "Are you and Blake Gannon close friends?"

"We're friends, yeah."

"Does he have a gambling habit?"

"What?"

"He isn't into anything stupid like narcotics, right?"

"Blake?" James shook his head. "Nah, c'mon now."

"When's the last time you saw him?" Hobbs asked.

"A few days ago."

"And he hasn't shown up for work since then?"

"I don't know where that dude is. He's not answering texts, calls, nothing."

"Yeah, speaking of that," said Hobbs. "We've been trying to contact your boss, Kevin McQuaid."

When James looked at the floor the detectives exchanged glances.

Hobbs asked, "You ever been to Booty's Sports Bar?"

"Not my kind of place." James noticed a car driving into the lot. A middle-aged man got out and began a slow walk around a pickup truck.

"Mr. Gannon's girlfriend works there," said Hobbs. "Rachel Ferris."

"Rachel, right," said James. He watched the snow coming in hard, cutting diagonals past the window and swirling across the pavement.

Hobbs added, "Her coworkers saw Mr. Gannon come in that night. He and Ms. Ferris left in a big hurry, right in the middle of her shift."

"Lotsa people disappearing around here," said Goldberg.

"Gotta get this customer." James pulled up his collar on his way out the door.

########

Driving his rented black Toyota Camry down the highway, Damon got an earful from an almost unrecognizable Rachel disguised wearing the sable, long-hair wig, her face darkened with foundation.