Authors: Russell Blake
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Hard-Boiled, #Private Investigators
“Yes, sir. Of course, I wouldn’t have had to enter your property if this dangerous felon hadn’t been there first.”
“Shut your pie hole. You play this way for a living, you take the hits.”
A small voice called out from the open doorway. “Ew. You got fish guts on you, mister.”
Drake sighed, trying not to gag at the reminder of the rotting leavings soaked into his hoodie.
“I know, kid.”
The man snarled over his shoulder. “Shut up. Bailey, go back into the house. Git. Now.”
“I ain’t outta the house.”
“You want a strapping? Talkin’ back like that? Get back inside. Now.”
“You gonna shoot ’em?”
The man grinned, an ugly display of marginal dental work that chilled Drake’s marrow. “Never know, son. Now git.”
Sirens greeted them several minutes later, and Drake stood by patiently while the disgruntled homeowner insisted on swearing out a complaint. A second squad car arrived and carted Cranford back to jail as the officer finished filling out the form and had the owner sign it.
“All right, Simmons. You know the drill. We gotta take you in and book you.”
Drake shook his head. “Tell me this is a joke.”
“Wish it was. Sorry. Let’s go. Oh, and I need your Taser.”
Drake handed it over as the homeowner watched, a smirk on his face, and Drake got another waft of fish stink rising from his shirt.
“Christ. What is that? Smells like an open sewer,” the cop complained as they walked together to the car.
“You ever have one of those days?” Drake asked.
The cop stopped by his cruiser, opened the back door, and nodded. “All the time, man. Watch your head.”
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