The Pawnbroker by Aimée Thurlo

They were probably real and fake account numbers, and anyone finding them would need hours to put the right combinations together. It was amateur stuff, but pretty secure in the short run.
    Remembering Nancy’s question, he told her what he’d found as he took photos. Then he checked his watch, put the portfolio just where he’d discovered it, and walked over to the window.
    â€œI think DuPree’s arrived. There’s a generic sedan and a squad car. I’ll remove the gloves and step outside so he won’t throw a tantrum.”
    â€œGive me your cell phone to hang on to. DuPree has a suspicious mind. He might ask to see yours,” Nancy suggested, walking over to join him.
    â€œNo prob. I’ve already uploaded everything I have to a computer at the shop.” He held up the phone and pressed the delete button. “Every photo is going away, right now.”
    â€œGlad you’re on my side. And Gina’s,” she added, opening the apartment door. “Better get out on the porch. He’s on his way over, and judging from his stride, he’s … pissed.”

 
    Chapter Seven
    Detective DuPree was surprisingly nonhostile, thanking Charlie for his efforts, but he was clearly not happy about being the last one invited to the scene. Nancy had taken off, wanting to visit Gina at the hospital before her next shift. Charlie had stayed behind, standing in the open doorway as the detective wandered from room to room, examining everything without comment.
    After about five minutes, the bulky-but-fit detective returned to the living room and accepted a can of Mountain Dew from the uniformed officer who’d accompanied him to the scene. Sipping the cold drink, DuPree made a call to the station, summoning a mobile crime lab while the officer began to photograph the interior of the apartment.
    â€œYou still here, Henry?” DuPree said, looking over finally.
    â€œYes, sir. I was wondering if you’d found Baza’s vehicle yet? If it wasn’t at the shooting scene because he took the Rail Runner…”
    â€œThen it should be here, yeah. Officer Chavez, go see if the apartment management has a record of Baza’s vehicle. That’s usually entered in their rental paperwork. The name he used, is…”
    â€œDoug Tyler,” Chavez added, nodding. “Got it, Detective.”
    Chavez left, nodding to Charlie as he went outside.
    â€œNow you gonna tell me you’ve already found Baza’s vehicle, smart-ass?” DuPree said.
    â€œNo, I’m no detective. Just a client who asked for a favor from his lawyer friend and got her shot. I have some intelligence-gathering training and skills I put to use. Anything I can do to help you catch the shooter, I’m there.”
    â€œI read your file, Henry. War hero, commendations, special ops in Iraq, then Afghanistan. Same with Sweeney, your business partner. Just don’t go mercenary on me—we’re stateside now.”
    â€œI prefer to work within the system, Detective, and I don’t give a shit about Baza. But Gina Sinclair is my friend. If you shut me out, I’ll go my own way and maybe get there first. I can help you out, unofficially, or leave you in the dark. Your call.”
    DuPree was about to explode, judging from the color shift on his face. Then his expression cooled. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Henry, but we’ve got it from here. Once I make an arrest, I’ll personally call and let you know. Go back to your pawnshop and trust in the system.”
    Charlie knew he’d been kissed off, but at least it had been polite. He didn’t give a crap about words, it was deeds that counted, so it was clear he’d want to stay out of DuPree’s sight wherever possible. He and Gordon were still pretty much on their own, and the only thing he had to worry about was keeping Nancy out of trouble with the department.
    â€œOkay, I’m going. By the way,