“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you looking for her?” the other one asked, then spit on the sidewalk.
“I just want to talk to her, is all.” I shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to get them off my car. This had obviously been a bad idea.
“She in trouble?” The inspector crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back.
“Not at all. She got beaten up pretty bad a few months ago. I work for St. Paul’s.” The lie flew into my head and out of my mouth. “Her insurance came through and paid for treatment. They also sent a check for her to cover expenses while she recovered. I’m just trying to get it to her.”
“I’ll give it to her.” The inspector held his hand out.
I raised an eyebrow. “How can you give a check to someone you just said you don’t know?”
He smiled again. “Tell you what. If you just out here handing out checks, give me one and I’ll show you where she is.”
I shook my head. “I’m not falling for it.” I took a deep breath and faked a confidence I didn’t feel as I walked around the car and opened the driver’s door. “I’ll look elsewhere.”
The men came around to my side, and I fought to tamp down the wave of fear that roiled in my stomach.
“Hey now, wait just a good goddamned minute. I said I’d take you to her, okay?” The inspector wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“How far?” My ruse was working, or at least it seemed to be.
“Close.” He pointed down the road behind him.
“We’ll see.” I sank into the car, the closeness of an escape comforting me a bit. “You walk. I’ll follow in the car. If she’s there and really is the woman I’m looking for, I’ll give you twenty dollars.”
The inspector ripped his beanie off his head, revealing a tangled mass of gray hair. “Twenty dollars. Shit, bitch! You think this is 1980? That there ain’t no inflation or some shit? Two hundred and you got a deal.”
I sighed. “One hundred. Not a penny more. Now, walk.”
“That’s more like it.” He grinned. “You sure we can’t ride with you?”
I closed my door so quickly he had to jump back. “Walk,” I mouthed and pointed in the direction he’d indicated.
His face soured, and he spewed some of the vilest profanity I’d ever heard, to the point where I wanted to write some of the words down for future use, but he started walking. I rolled along behind him and his counterpart for a block and a half before they stopped in front of a burned-out wreck of a house.
I rolled my window down. “This?”
“Yeah. She in there.” He pointed.
Fuck. “Nobody’s in there. It’s destroyed.” It had been a shotgun house at one point, long and narrow with a quaint front porch. No more.
“Shit, bitch.” He threw his hands up and placed them on the roof of my car as he leaned in the window. His breath was a mix of whiskey and rot. “You think just because this house ain’t nice and fancy like where you probably live that people can’t live here. Now, give me my money.”
“Yeah, give him the money.” The sidekick banged on the roof behind me.
I jumped at the noise and then schooled my features. “Once I see her.”
“Well, get the fuck out of the car, Ms. High and Mighty.” The inspector backed away.
I scrutinized the house. There was no way anyone could live inside. Half the roof was gone, and there was no front door. It was a wide-open sore. Or maybe a rape and murder pit just waiting for its next victim. The inspector and his sidekick weren’t giving me any reassurances on that front.
I dug around in my bag and pulled out my emergency hundred along with a slim canister of pepper spray. I palmed the spray and opened my door, slamming it and locking it behind me with the remote entry.
“Go on.” The inspector gestured toward the house.
“You first.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Fuck. This ain’t even worth a hundred dollars.” He turned around and strode down the grassy walk before hopping onto the porch and disappearing into the front door.
The sidekick went back to leaning against my car as I followed the inspector. The stairs creaked under me, and voices erupted from inside.
“Get the fuck up. You got company.” His voice.
“What? Who? Customer?” A woman’s voice, hoarse and filled with sleep.
“No, you used-up whore. Get up.”
“Ow!” she yelled. “Get the fuck out my house.”
“Hey! Hey, rich bitch! She in here.”
I made a useless attempt to settle my nerves and walked through the charred opening, pepper spray at the ready. The fire had blackened the walls and left gaps from room to room. Movement toward the back caught my eye, and I maneuvered around fallen beams and hanging wires until I came to the one room that still had a piece of roof over it. A dirty mattress lay on the floor, and a woman in a T-shirt and nothing else was sitting on it as she and the inspector engaged in a shouting match.