“I need a car,” I said, and I was sure to add, “A good one,” so that I sounded serious.
“Price range?”
I shrugged. “It has to be dependable,” I said. “And I don’t have a lot of money.”
“Dependable is not a problem.” His grin showed off crooked, yellow teeth. “How’s about you just come on in and fill out a credit application.”
“Shouldn’t we look at cars first?”
His grin got bigger. “See, that’s the mistake most folks make,” he said. “They get their hearts set on a car, then find out they can’t afford it. You don’t want that to happen to you, do you, little lady?”
I assured him I didn’t, and I followed him inside the cinder-block building, where I sat on a metal chair and filled out a credit application with the pen Bud took out of his shirt pocket. It leaked. When I was done, Bud trotted back in my direction. “You know, Bud…” I gave him a simmering little smile. “I was hoping to meet Bad Dog himself.”
Bud’s gaze went briefly to a door across the office marked PRIVATE. It was closed. “He’s a busy man,” he said. “I can help you just fine.”
I kept my smile firmly in place, even when Bud stepped a little closer. “I’m sure you can. It’s just that… well, I’ve seen Bad Dog on all those commercials, and it’s like… well, I feel like I practically know him. That’s why I came here in the first place. And then when I mentioned it at work… people told me…” I bucked up my courage and leaned in closer to Bud. He smelled like old socks. I held my breath and whispered, “Somebody said Bad Dog was in prison once.”
Before Bud could answer, a weird thing happened. A red carnation appeared right in front of my face. Surprised, I stepped back and slid my gaze in the direction of Bad Dog’s office. The door was open now, and Bad Dog himself was on the other end of that flower. Close enough to touch, and definitely close enough for him to hear what I’d just said.
I stepped back and looked Bad Dog over. It was, after all, what that bus ride and this nonsense about needing a car was all about. Even if I could come right out and ask if he had anything to do with Vera Blaine’s death, there was no way he was going to tell me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t dig, just a little, and size him up while I was at it.
Like he was in the commercials I’d seen, Bad Dog was wearing an expensive suit and a smile that crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. That scar above his left eye should have been gross. Instead, it enhanced his dark and deadly image. His hair was the color of strong coffee. His voice was as rich as Dove dark chocolate. Oh yeah, Mack Raphael was suave, all right.
I told myself not to forget that if everything Quinn said about him was true, he was also unreformed and plenty dangerous.
“Thank you, Bud, I’ll take it from here.” Bad Dog dismissed the salesman with a curt nod then turned a smile on me as sleek as the Porsche my dad used to drive. “Red carnation. Get it? Bad Dog’s Big Car Nation?”
I smiled like I thought it was funny, and when he offered the flower again, I had no choice but to take it.
“I save them for the pretty customers,” he said. “For you…” He stepped back and looked me over as carefully as I had just studied him. “Maybe I should have brought out a whole dozen.”
“That’s so sweet!” I sniffed the flower because I figured that’s what I was supposed to do. “I knew you’d be just like you are in your commercials. So-”
“Handsome?” Bad Dog laughed.
Years of dating had done nothing if not taught me how to blush on command. “I was going to say friendly.”
“Yet you’re worried. About my reputation. I couldn’t help but overhear what you said to Bud. You know, about my background. Does that matter when it comes to buying a car?”
“If I can’t trust you…” I could twinkle with the best of them, and I pulled out all the stops. “Then I can’t trust your cars.”
Bad Dog laughed. “We’re going to get along just fine.”
“But only if your prices are good. And your cars are dependable. And that means, really, I need to know about-”
“Prison. Yes, of course.” Bad Dog made a gesture with one arm that invited me to walk with him. I did, and he led me outside. “Sedan or SUV?” he asked and that was that-the subject had officially been changed. “Color? Is it important? Yes, of course, color is always important to a woman. I’ve found that the more beautiful a woman is, the more she cares about color and style. I think that means you must care very, very much.”
I was supposed to be flattered. If there wasn’t that whole drug empire/murder/prison thing to consider, I actually might have been. The way it was, I could see I was going to get nowhere fast with Mack Raphael. Not if I wasn’t clever, and very, very careful.
“Sedan,” I said. “Red if you have one in my price range. I’d prefer American made, leather seats if at all possible, a moon roof, and I’d rather not have a gas guzzler. I’m all about saving the environment.”
“Of course.” He led me to a maroon Ford. No moon roof and it had more than a hundred thousand miles on the odometer. Raphael opened the driver’s door. “Get in, why don’t you? Try it out. We could take it for a test drive.”
We could, but being that alone with Mack Raphael was not in my game plan.
I slid behind the steering wheel. “It was Central State, wasn’t it?” I asked him.
“If you know so much, why do you need me to confirm it?”
“Fair question. But like I said…” I skimmed a hand over the dashboard. It was spotless. “I can barely afford a car, and I can’t afford one at all if it isn’t going to last. If you’re not honest-”
“As the day is long!” He held up one hand, Boy Scout-style.
I smiled as if I was satisfied. Right before I asked, “How long ago?”
He thought he was home free. Which was why his expression clouded. “Before you were born.”
“I’m older than I look.”
“I was there from ’82 to ’90.”
And Vera Blaine had been murdered in ’84, I reminded myself. I also told myself not to lose heart. If Bad Dog could run drugs from inside the prison, surely it couldn’t be hard to arrange a hit and the frame-up of a warden he hated.
“I was a kid then,” I said. I ran my hand below the edge of the front seat, found the little lever, and moved the seat back. “It must have been terrible.”
He knew I wasn’t talking about the height of the last person to drive this car. “It was an education. Prison always is for those who are smart enough to see it that way. Believe me, I learned a powerful lesson. That’s why I’m an honest businessman today.”
He smiled down at me.
I smiled up at him while I wondered how I could tippy-toe my way back into a topic as delicate as a lengthy incarceration. Have no fear, I would have found the words.
If Absalom hadn’t shown up.
“There you are.” He strode through the line of parked cars like he had every right to be there, and when he got over to the maroon Ford, he glared. “Told you, woman, we don’t need no new car. The one you got, it’s good enough for you.”
“Family squabble?” Bad Dog looked sorry to find out I had a significant other. “Perhaps I should let you two talk privately.”
“Don’t need to talk.” Absalom reached into the car, grabbed me by the arm, and hauled me out. “We ain’t buying a car. Not today.”
I shook him off. “That doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
“Means you’re wasting this good man’s time. And you got work to do back at Monroe Street. Crazy woman works in a cemetery,” he told Bad Dog. “Which only goes to prove how really crazy she is.”
With no choice but to go along with Absalom, and itching to find out what he was up to and why he was there, I was about to walk away. Bad Dog stopped me, one hand on my arm. “Monroe Street. That’s not just any cemetery. Isn’t that the cemetery where Jefferson Lamar is buried?”