”Look what square the cat dragged in, if we don’t have Lyle F. Floor. What sort of angle are you working at today?” She said, straight to the point like gravel in your shoe. So I did her the same favor and pulled a picture out of my pocket of the crime scene. “Do you know anything about this? Kid took a dive at the aquatic center over at 4th and 9th. Fell for the water in all the wrong ways if you catch my drift.”
She took a look at the photo with her grey eyes - a con like Crete had seen all kinds of things in her day. Bumps, bruises, abrasions like she was fixing to give sandpaper a run for its money. Sure enough she didn’t bat an eye and played hard ball, “Looks like an everyday accident, Detective. I would let this one slip you by, you wouldn’t want your agency to hit a rough patch.”
Now, I’m not the kind of guy who takes a dive for anybody, and anybody who knows me can say I stick to something like glue when I get a lead on it. I took a look at the photo and saw some telltale signs of rubber pellets around the corners. An unintentional calling card from another old rogue. Chances are if he’s leaving a mess, he’s down on his luck again. Looks like poor Ian Place is probably up to his old tricks again and falling apart on the job. I’d have to take a turn around the city and see where he’d gotten caught up this time. He wasn’t that bad of a guy in the right situations, but when he got in over his head you’d see the breakdown for years.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Crete.” I said.
“Oh, I’m set on that.” She said, closing the door, “I’m everywhere.”