Kathy Hogan Trocheck - Truman Kicklighter 02 - Crash Course by Kathy Hogan Trocheck Page B

he had a business opportunity over on the east coast, Lauderdale or someplace. Nothing personal. You know how they get when they’re young. The guy was single, no attachments. He moved on.”
    “What about his car?” Jackie asked. “That’s his car out in the parking lot. Why didn’t he take his car if he quit?”
    Bondurant raised one eyebrow. He did it well. “His car? You mean the Mustang? That belongs to me. Inventory. We always let our salesmen drive the inventory. It’s good for business.”
    “He’s lying,” Jackie said quickly. “They must have moved the car and the body. While those two goof-off cops were out joyriding. It was right here under their noses and they didn’t even look inside. It was right here.”
    Hilley had been writing in his pad again. He looked up at Ronnie.
    “Mr. Bondurant? Okay if I ask the other officers to step inside here and take a look around?”
    “Fine with me,” Bondurant said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Lot of fuss all on the say-so of a hophead girl like this. Somebody in the habit of breaking into a business. A burglar, you might say.”
    Hilley looked up sharply. “You want to file charges? She admits she came in here.”
    “I’ll look around, see if anything’s missing,” Ronnie said. “If I find anything missing, you can lock her up.”
    “You’re the thief,” Jackie said fiercely.
    “That’s enough,” Hilley said, still polite. “I think you can go wait outside with your friend now.”
    They left the tall, skinny cop, the joyrider, to wait with Ollie and Jackie. He got his bucket of chicken out of the Gran Torino and sat in his cruiser with the engine idling, the windows rolled up, and the air conditioner going full blast.
    “I’m taking his badge number,” Ollie told Jackie. They were leaning against the hood of one of the other cruisers.
    Jackie couldn’t help it. She had to bring it up.
    “You were watching while I was inside on the phone,” she said accusingly. “Didn’t you see it? A black tow truck pulling my car? How could you miss seeing it?”
    “I was watching as close as I could,” Ollie snapped. “You were gone a hell of a long time. There was a lot of traffic, you know. Besides, they could have taken it out the other side. How could I have seen it if they did that?”
    “You were supposed to be watching,” Jackie repeated.
    It was another half hour before the cops came out. Ronnie Bondurant locked the office door behind them. He left the strings of fights festooned around the lot burning, and overhead, the slowly twirling pink Caddie’s headlights blinked on and off, on and off.
    “Sorry for your trouble,” Hilley told him. “You change your mind about filing a breaking and entering report?”
    “Didn’t see anything missing,” Bondurant said grudgingly, his eyes boring into Jackie. “Just make it clear to her. She makes any more trouble for me, comes snooping around here or causing any more disturbances, I will file charges. That’s my right, am I correct?”
    “That’s correct,” Hilley said.
    “You understand that, miss?”
    Jackie stood stiffly. Her hands were crusted with blood, her best jeans were in tatters, she was near tears, but she was damned if she’d let the sons of bitches see her cry.
    “You’re gonna let him get away with murder?” she asked Hilley. “And I’m the one who gets in trouble?”
    “I oughta sue,” Bondurant snarled. “Get out. But remember. Come Friday, you owe me seventy-seven dollars and ten cents. Miss a payment and I’m gonna be all over you like stink on a dog.”
    “We’ll see about that,” Jackie said coldly. “I’ve still got that can of transmission fluid. That’ll prove who stole my car. Let’s go, Ollie.”
    The atmosphere inside the Nova was thick with accusation, denial, and bitterness. Jackie turned the car south on U.S. 19, back toward the Fountain of Youth. She was exhausted and sore.
    Ollie craned his neck to see the watch on Jackie’s