*****
The race track was located in the bottom of a ravine. Reid drove the car up a nearby hill so that we could look down on the track unnoticed.
Reid got out of the car with Foxy and me following. Manny and Mac pulled up behind us and got out, carrying their equipment. They looked tired, we all did – but now was not the time to start complaining.
Mac threw an arm over me as we walked towards the edge of the cliff. “You made it in one piece,” he said. “I don’t see any bruises on either one of you,” he continued, motioning to Detective Reid.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” I said. “He ran my name through the system and pulled up all this dirt on me. He probably did the same to you guys.”
Mac looked at me and smiled. “He really is an asshole, isn’t he?”
“Yup,” I agreed. “Watch your back.”
We approached the edge of the cliff and looked down. Beneath us, we could see an oval shaped track. There were several sets of rusted-out bleachers and a beat-up watchtower where I presumed the correspondents would sit if this place ever had a race worth broadcasting. There were about twenty cars in the parking lot, and two cars were racing around the track. The cars were not official race cars – they were souped-up sports cars – and we could hear the rev of their engines very clearly from above. The first car looked to be some sort of Camaro with one of those fancy engines that protrudes from the front hood. The second car was a Spyder. It was a dark green on the outside and super fast. I estimated the guys were probably going over a hundred miles an hour.
Mac threw his camera over his shoulder and starting shooting. “Looks like they’re going about one-eighty down there,” Mac announced.
I rolled my eyes, annoyed that Mac knew more about this stuff than I did, although I should have expected that he would. Reid stared down and surveyed the scene. The cars were continuing to race around the track, and there was a group of about twenty five people who were cheering and drinking beers.
Mac zoomed in to get a better look below. He whipped out a pair of binoculars, then nudged me and handed them over. Mac guided the binoculars until I saw what he wanted me to see – Rose was walking into the arena. I looked at him and smiled.
“Detective,” I said to Reid. “Look who’s here.” I pointed down to Rose. I handed Reid the binoculars and he took a look. We weren’t that high up, and I could see her pretty well even without the binoculars. She was dressed the same but she looked frantic. She ran over to the group of race fans and spoke to one of the women. The woman she spoke with pointed to the green Spyder racing around the track. My guess was that Rose was looking for whoever was driving that car. She nodded and then collapsed to her knees dramatically causing everyone in the group to suddenly turn.
“It’s probably really sinking in right about now,” Foxy said, watching her.
I wasn’t so sure. It all seemed terribly rehearsed. I nudged Mac to film the detectives while I threw some questions out to them.
“Why didn’t you ask Rose about this place when you spoke with her?” I asked Reid.
“She wasn’t gonna talk,” he said. “This is the illegal shit she was afraid for us to find out about. Some of it at least.”
“Racing?” I asked. “What’s the big deal?”
“We don’t know yet,” Foxy chimed in. “They could be racing for cash, they could be racing for drugs or on drugs. Who knows what kind of crazy stuff these dudes are into, but whatever it is, it’s bad enough that one of them got killed.”
I nodded as that all sunk in.
“Let’s not get carried away here okay? We are still very likely dealing with a simple hit-and-run,” Reid reminded us.
By now, the woman Rose had initially spoken with had brought her over to a bench and was kneeling in front of her consoling her. There were a few more people gathered around Rose, but most of the others had gone back to watching the race. The cars continued to race around the track, lightning fast. I saw a man carrying a black and white checked flag approaching the watchtower, so I figured the race was almost done. The cars did one final lap, and then the flag came out. The green Spyder was in the lead, but the Camaro pumped the gas hard and pulled out front. The Spyder floored it, and they were neck and neck. I found myself getting excited. “Come on green car, come on!” I said.
All the guys stopped and looked at me. “Shh!” they all said in unison.
My face turned bright red. “I’m sorry, I was getting into this.”
We all turned our attention back to the race. At the last second the Spyder pulled ahead and emerged victorious. The crowd cheered. I tried to keep my composure, but I was happy that my car had won.
The Spyder slammed on the brakes and slid 180 degrees around the track. He stopped just short of the wall and the crowd cheered and rushed over to him. The driver climbed out the window and sat on the sill. He raised his hands triumphantly and high-fived a bunch of people. From what I could see, the driver was lean with short hair and wore a tank top that showed off his various tattoos. I couldn’t make out what the tattoos were, but I could see that they were all over his arms and neck.
The driver of the other car pulled over and got out. The woman I presumed to be his girlfriend ran up to him and consoled him while he kicked the tires on his car and made a big show of it.
I turned and looked at Mac. “This is good stuff,” I whispered.
He nodded. I felt like I was watching a silent film. Even though I couldn’t tell what the characters were saying, I could follow the story by the way they were acting and moving around. It was cool.
The defeated driver walked over to the winner. Reid turned to Mac. “Zoom in on their hands – see if they exchange anything.”
Mac did as he was told. The defeated driver shook hands with the winner. Reid was glued to the binoculars and Mac to his camera, but it didn’t look like they exchanged anything besides a handshake.
“Did you see anything?” Reid asked anxiously.
“No,” Mac answered.
I watched as the defeated party got in his car with his girlfriend and drove away. The woman who had been comforting Rose walked over to the driver of the green Spyder and spoke to him, pointing back at Rose. I guess he didn’t care much because he just seemed to shrug and then focus back on his fans. The woman looked annoyed as she walked back over to Rose, who was still sitting on the bench.
“Whoa,” Manny said. “I wouldn’t turn my back on that piece of candy.”
“Nice,” Foxy added. “They tell the guy his buddy is dead and he doesn’t give it a second thought.”
“You don’t know what she said down there. She might have just said Rose is upset or something,” Reid said.
“That foxy bitch isn’t gonna stand for that,” Manny said. “I doubt she’s used to men ignoring her.”
And just as he said it, Rose stood up and headed over to speak to the driver.
“Yeah, you go girl!” Manny called out.
“Shh!” we all said.
We watched as Rose walked with purpose over to the driver. She walked up to him and probably said something like, “I need to speak with you.” And then he seemed to say something back like “Later.” She stared at him for a while, then turned and walked off the track and into the parking lot.
“Let’s get down there before that guy has time to get his story together,” Foxy said.
Reid nodded, and we all got in the SUV and headed down the hill.
As we drove, Reid addressed Mac and Manny. “Okay, I know you guys need to get your shot, but I need you to hang back on this one. I’ll wear a wire and so will Foxy, but I need you guys to stay hidden until we say it’s okay. Sharpe, you can come with us and if the perp seems willing, then you can get your permissions.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said. “I’m in charge of the filming here!”
Reid stopped and stared at me. So did everyone else.
“Do what he said,” I ordered, pointing at Reid.
“Okay, great,” Mac said, smiling at me.
We drove down the hill and pulled into the dirt parking lot of the race track. Some of the cars had already disappeared, but several still remained. The cops thought it best to take the SUV because it wasn’t an obvious cop car. Their “unmarked” Taurus screamed undercover cop. Besides, no one attending this race would have driven up in a piece of crap car like that.
Mac pulled the SUV to the front of the lot so that he could get a decent shot while safely hidden in the car. Reid pulled out his gun, checked for ammo, and then holstered it. I had to admit I was a little turned on. Foxy did the same thing, but it didn’t have the same effect on me. When everyone was ready, we stepped out of the car.
Reid and Foxy took the lead, walking with authority while I brought up the rear. I could still feel my burger gurgling around in my stomach, and I was certain that it wouldn’t be hard for someone to scare the shit out of me – literally.
The driver of the green Spyder had gotten out and was looking under the hood at the engine. There were five people gathered around him, and he was smiling as he bragged about his equipment.
Foxy was the first to get to the crowd. He pulled out his badge and addressed the driver. “What have we got going on here, son?”
The driver wasn’t much younger than Foxy, so I assumed calling him “son” was just a cop trick to make the suspect feel inferior.
The people gathered around the car scattered, but the driver remained calm. He wore a silver chain dangling between his nipples and exuded coolness. His shirt was held together by a single button, and his hair was greased and scruffy. He had more tattoos on his arms and neck than I could count, and most of them seemed to be pictures of skulls or race cars or naked women.
“Not a thing, officer,” the driver said. “Just showing some friends my car. Is that illegal?”
“What’s your name, son?” Foxy asked.
“What’s your name?” the driver countered.
“Cut the shit,” Reid said. “You can answer the questions here, or we can drag you to the station and you can answer them there.”
The driver looked at Reid, then Foxy, but he wasn’t talking.
“Look, kid, you’re not in trouble here. We just need to ask you some questions about Chaser. You know him, right?” Foxy asked.
Good cop-bad cop again. These guys had it down.
“Yeah, I know him. Is he in trouble?”
“Why don’t you start by showing us some identification,” Foxy said.
The driver hesitated, then pulled out his wallet. He retrieved his license and handed it to Foxy. Foxy whipped out a notepad and wrote the name and driver’s license number down. “Jason Loudermilk. Wow, that’s some name.”
“They call me Kitt.”
“Oh I get it – like the car, right?” Foxy said.
“No,” Kitt answered.
He was cool with the cops. No fears. I liked that about him. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from this guy.
“Look, your friend is dead, pal. We need to know where you were tonight between the hours of six and eight o’clock,” Reid blurted out.
Kitt didn’t react. Instead, he glanced at me. “Who’s the chick?”
I opened my mouth to speak but Reid held up a hand and stopped me. “She’s with us. Now did you hear what I said to you?”
“Yeah I heard you. You telling me I’m a suspect?”
“I’m asking you a simple question. If you can’t answer it, then yes, you will be considered a suspect,” Reid said.
“I was home until nine – any other questions?” Kitt said.
“Were you alone?” Foxy asked.
“No – I had a girl over.” Kitt glanced at me. “We were banging.”
“What is the name of the woman you were with? We’d like to contact her,” Reid said.
“No idea,” Kitt said. “I picked her up at a bar – I didn’t ask too many questions – you dig me?”
Now it was Reid’s turn to check for my reaction, but I stood stone still.
“We’d like to take you down to the police station to ask you some questions,” Foxy said.
“Now?” Kitt asked.
“Yes, now,” Reid answered.
Kitt looked at me again. I could feel his eyes down on my legs. “She comin’?”
Reid turned and looked over at me. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Yeah, she’s coming.”
“I’ll take my car – you dig?” Kitt said. His voice was deep and raspy as he spoke.
“Fine, you can follow us,” Reid said.
Reid and Foxy turned to walk to their car. Kitt moved in close and stared down at me, licking his lips. I knew I was an idiot – this guy was a murder suspect yet I found myself oddly fascinated by this guy.
“You wanna ride with me, baby?” he asked.
I smiled and was about to say yes when Reid grabbed my arm. “She rides with me.”
Kitt held up his hands. “Whoa, did I ruffle the big man’s feathers? Didn’t mean to move in on your girl, dude.” Kitt backed off and got into his car. I watched him jump through the window into the driver’s seat.
“Let’s go, Sharpe,” Reid said sternly.
Chapter 6.