I stayed on the sidewalk outside the newspaper office. It was shaded there, so a comfortable place to make a call. I scrolled through the contact list in my phone. When I got to my old partner’s name, I punched the call option. It was nearly 5 PM in Cincinnati, and Ed would likely still be at the station, finishing up paperwork for the day. My call was answered after the second ring.
“Garvey.”
“Ed, you still employed today?” I hoped that by starting this conversation on a light note that we could have a more congenial and productive discussion. Our previous phone conversations had been tense at times.
“I won’t be if you keep distracting me from my duties,” he said without any trace of anger. It sounded like we were back on pleasant terms. Now maybe he was going to give me some slack and thus less hassle. “Let me guess. You’re still not taking my advice about watching where you step, so now you have another request.”
“Am I that transparent?” I asked, trying to inject some hurt into my question.
“Well, let’s see. Until a couple days ago, I hadn’t heard from you in over a week, and then all of a sudden you’re calling every day. Yeah, transparent is a good choice of word.” He paused. “Have you at least started writing your book rather than spending all your time being a detective?”
I still had not actually started any writing. The investigation was consuming all my time and energy. There was, though, at least the start of an outline on my note pad back at the motel. So there was a positive response I could give. “Yes, Ed. I started.”
“Good to hear. I better get a cut of the profits from your book, considering all the help you keep asking for.”
“Maybe I can give you an acknowledgement at the end or use your name for one of the characters. How does that sound?”
“I’ll reserve a decision until after you tell me what you want.”
“I was wondering if you had any word yet from your INS guy about the Hispanic who was picked up last year in Willow Run.”
Ed said, “I left a message, but he hasn’t called back with anything yet.”
“Well, can you call him again? I really need to know about this guy,” I pleaded.
“You do realize that I don’t work for you, don’t you?” he shot back.
“Yes, Ed, I know. But this is important.”
He sighed. “OK, I’ll call him again,” he said tiredly. “But this is gonna cost me some LA Lakers tickets to press him for information. You know how hard it is to get those tickets for a price I can afford?”
“Just let me know how much, and I’ll pay for them.” I winced at the thought of how much this might cost me. $100? $200? $500? I really had no idea what professional basketball seat prices were, but tickets in LA would not be cheap.
“Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easy. Besides you need the money. No, I like the idea of you owing me. I’ll decide later what it will cost you,” Ed threatened. “Yeah, you’re going to pay big time.”
“OK, OK,” I responded in mock surrender. “I’ll owe you.”
“Give me a couple of days, Nathan. And for free, I’ll give you the same advice as before. Watch where you step, buddy.”