Cardoza looked like a skunk. A mixed Caucasian, he had coal-black hair and a rattail on his barbershop cut bleached as white as a new fallen snow. His nose had a triangle point, his eyes were beady little peas, and his body resembled an Oompa-Loompa. Turkey also carried hips—something I didn’t know men were capable of. Couple that with an Italian suit and you were looking at someone trying to be someone that biology didn’t intend. Maybe that’s what most criminals did … try to hide what lurked on the inside to make their crimes less believable.
“Turkey?” I laughed.
“As in Wild Turkey,” he frowned. “Evidently, he can drink an entire bottle and never lose an ounce of sobriety. Trust me, he needs to be sober judging by the people he’s in business with.”
“He’s bad?”
“I’d rather play with a venomous snake.”
Question answered. Lincoln took a long swig of coffee then noshed on the last blueberry danish onboard.
“Career criminal?” I asked.
“Mob,” he specified, “and that type are morally ambivalent. You name it, he’s done it. Plus, he’s got a smart mouth the size of the craters on the moon. ”
Cue The Godfather theme song.
“Why is he so hard to catch? He sounds like your textbook ponkey, and people like that should make anyone’s radar beep.”
“Ponkey,” he repeated.
“You know, when the punk in you makes a donkey out of you’re a-s-s. Marry them together and you have a ponkey.”
Lincoln burst out laughing. “Dear, I don’t know whether to be impressed with your creativity or tell you to gargle with some Listerine.”
“I’d prefer it if you were impressed.”
He wiped his mouth, appearing pensive and perplexed at the same time. “Fingering him isn’t the problem,” he muttered. “Getting things to stick is . I have people feeding me information, but when we bring him in for questioning, he’s always got an airtight alibi even though we have footage of him in the area.” He massaged the space between his eyes, adding a frustrated groan. “I know the answer’s in my head. I’m just having trouble piecing it together. Sometimes I think I’m too dumb for this kind of work.”
Surely, that was said in jest. Lincoln’s brain ran like the Autobahn—fast, unimpeded, and smooth. My brain moved like the off-road—full of ruts, gutters, and expletives you didn’t know you were capable of.
“And you believe your sources?”
You couldn’t miss the conviction on his face, while a hard line painted down his jaw. “Wholeheartedly. One gal especially would never steer me wrong.”
“Why don’t you just bring her in?”
Another drink of coffee. “I’ve offered, but she’s not the type to be cloistered away somewhere. So we’re being extremely careful in our dealings. If she were ever found out, that would be signing her death warrant, but she’s slick. Frankly, she’s the first person I’ve never been able to outsmart.”
I wondered who could be so close to Turkey to know firsthand of his dealings? “Do you think she’s a friend, enemy, mistress, neighbor?” I rattled off.
He lifted both shoulders in a slow shrug. “I don’t have a clear feel of who she is. I can’t pin down an age, only that my gut says she’s good. So she tells me things and that foists the problem off onto me, but hey, that’s my job.” Lincoln inhaled, then exhaled deeper, loosening up to laugh. “Can I tell you how much I’ve grown to hate secrets? But in this line of business,” he said, pausing to put his index finger to his lips, “mum’s the word.”
I mimicked the gesture, promising, “I won’t say anything.”
He gave half a smile. “I’ve known you since you were six years old, Darcy. You like to talk, but you’re not a snitch.”
Let’s just say I’d had a lot of experience with keeping secrets. Life sometimes mandated them, and I wallowed around in the damning truth of it. But that’s not to say I didn’t love, love, love a juicy
“Turkey?” I laughed.
“As in Wild Turkey,” he frowned. “Evidently, he can drink an entire bottle and never lose an ounce of sobriety. Trust me, he needs to be sober judging by the people he’s in business with.”
“He’s bad?”
“I’d rather play with a venomous snake.”
Question answered. Lincoln took a long swig of coffee then noshed on the last blueberry danish onboard.
“Career criminal?” I asked.
“Mob,” he specified, “and that type are morally ambivalent. You name it, he’s done it. Plus, he’s got a smart mouth the size of the craters on the moon. ”
Cue The Godfather theme song.
“Why is he so hard to catch? He sounds like your textbook ponkey, and people like that should make anyone’s radar beep.”
“Ponkey,” he repeated.
“You know, when the punk in you makes a donkey out of you’re a-s-s. Marry them together and you have a ponkey.”
Lincoln burst out laughing. “Dear, I don’t know whether to be impressed with your creativity or tell you to gargle with some Listerine.”
“I’d prefer it if you were impressed.”
He wiped his mouth, appearing pensive and perplexed at the same time. “Fingering him isn’t the problem,” he muttered. “Getting things to stick is . I have people feeding me information, but when we bring him in for questioning, he’s always got an airtight alibi even though we have footage of him in the area.” He massaged the space between his eyes, adding a frustrated groan. “I know the answer’s in my head. I’m just having trouble piecing it together. Sometimes I think I’m too dumb for this kind of work.”
Surely, that was said in jest. Lincoln’s brain ran like the Autobahn—fast, unimpeded, and smooth. My brain moved like the off-road—full of ruts, gutters, and expletives you didn’t know you were capable of.
“And you believe your sources?”
You couldn’t miss the conviction on his face, while a hard line painted down his jaw. “Wholeheartedly. One gal especially would never steer me wrong.”
“Why don’t you just bring her in?”
Another drink of coffee. “I’ve offered, but she’s not the type to be cloistered away somewhere. So we’re being extremely careful in our dealings. If she were ever found out, that would be signing her death warrant, but she’s slick. Frankly, she’s the first person I’ve never been able to outsmart.”
I wondered who could be so close to Turkey to know firsthand of his dealings? “Do you think she’s a friend, enemy, mistress, neighbor?” I rattled off.
He lifted both shoulders in a slow shrug. “I don’t have a clear feel of who she is. I can’t pin down an age, only that my gut says she’s good. So she tells me things and that foists the problem off onto me, but hey, that’s my job.” Lincoln inhaled, then exhaled deeper, loosening up to laugh. “Can I tell you how much I’ve grown to hate secrets? But in this line of business,” he said, pausing to put his index finger to his lips, “mum’s the word.”
I mimicked the gesture, promising, “I won’t say anything.”
He gave half a smile. “I’ve known you since you were six years old, Darcy. You like to talk, but you’re not a snitch.”
Let’s just say I’d had a lot of experience with keeping secrets. Life sometimes mandated them, and I wallowed around in the damning truth of it. But that’s not to say I didn’t love, love, love a juicy
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