Bones of the Lost

plumbing bill you ever paid.”
    Rockett simply glared. With a hair less confidence than before?
    “Screw with the IRS, you’re looking at hard time.” Slidell’s face was hard. “You know Dew’s wife is Peruvian? For him this is personal. And he’s got contacts down there. You skate this bust, and I ain’t putting money on those odds, you may want to think about shifting your base of operations. Maybe to Mars.”
    I doubted the wife story. And was certain Dew would disapprove. But I didn’t interrupt.
    “Every penny you ever earned, every dime you ever spent, Dew’s running his pencil down the columns. He’s calling your buyers, your suppliers, subpoenaing their records. Think Farmer Gaucho and his amigos will go to the slammer for you? Only question is how fast can they
hablo
to save their own asses.”
    Silence followed Slidell’s rant. Rockett finally broke it.
    “Why’s my customs beef a concern of the Charlotte PD?”
    “My turf, my call.”
    Rockett glanced at his watch, back at Slidell. “That it?”
    “No. That ain’t it. Tell me about your buddy, John-Henry Story.”
    “Don’t know him.” Rockett’s face remained carefully blank. But the fingers of his unscarred hand curled inward.
    “Lying to a police investigator will bring you serious grief.”
    What the hell? Slidell had already inflamed the situation. I pulled out the bar photos. Rockett glanced at them briefly, but offered no explanation.
    “Special Agent Dew is aware of your position in S&S Enterprises,” I said. “Of your association with John-Henry Story.”
    “No comment.” Through lips barely open.
    “You got any comment on how Story managed to torch himself?”
    Rockett offered no reply to Slidell’s question.
    “Here’s what Dew keeps wondering.” Rainbow fragments of light danced the contours of Slidell’s face. “Where’s a two-bit importer get the bucks to play with the big boys?”
    Still nothing.
    “Local businessman up in flames.” Slidell raised and lowered his palms, as though comparing objects for weight. “Two-bit importer with a shitload of cash.”
    “You saying I had something to do with Story’s death?” Behind Rockett, a referee raised his hands above his head. “Are you fucking crazy?”
    Seeing a possible crack in the smug self-control, I arrowed straight to the real purpose of our visit.
    “Two nights ago a young girl was killed in a hit and run near Old Pineville Road.”
    I pulled out one of my flyers. Rockett gave it another of his nanosecond glances.
    “The girl wasn’t killed on impact. She managed to crawl to the shoulder, where she died in pain some time later. Alone. Terrified.”
    “You’re telling me this because?” Rockett’s undamaged eye bore into mine.
    “The girl had something belonging to John-Henry Story in her purse.”
    “So?” Cold as ice.
    “Did Detective Slidell mention that he works homicide?”
    The distorted face changed in a way I couldn’t interpret. I dangled the flyer square in front of it.
    “You were acquainted with Story. This girl was acquainted with Story. Do you know who she is?”
    “Mary Fucking Poppins.”
    Anger burned in my chest. War hero or not, Rockett was repulsive.
    “One other thing. The ME found semen on the girl’s body. The samples are being tested for DNA.”
    Rockett shrugged. “Test away.”
    “The kid’s got Story’s plastic. Story’s your partner and drinking pal,” Slidell said, clearly sharing my disgust. “You’re connected, asshole. Who is she?”
    “Get the fuck out of here.”
    Slidell didn’t budge.
    “Here’s one more fact, Mr. Rockett.” My tone was glacial. “Yesterday I received a tip. The caller claimed to know the hit-and-run-victim. Said the girl was scared.”
    “So?”
    “Something or someone frightened this child.” I waggled the flyer inches from Rockett’s nose. “I
will
find out what or who that was.”
    With an angry swipe, Rockett knocked the paper from my upraised hand. I retrieved it from the floor and placed it faceup on the table.
    “I will not stop until this girl is identified. Detective Slidell will not stop until her killer is caught. You lied to us about knowing Story. You must have had a reason to do so, and that ties you in.”
    “And remember, asshole.” Thrusting his face into Rockett’s, Slidell hiked his brows up, then down. “I’m fucking crazy.”
    Without another word we walked out and drove away.
    And that was it.
    For the next ten days I would learn