Juice lowered his voice. “Rob, I need some info. You hooked up a friend of mine. A Black guy by the name of Sammy Littlejohn.” Juice pointed to a gun inside the case.
The guy’s eyes darted quickly around the store. He bent over and lifted the gun from the case and handed it to Juice.
“Yeah. I know him.” The guy’s voice matched Juice’s.
“I heard you introduced him to someone who hired him.” Juice inspected the gun like an interested customer. “Maybe to work for a company in Midtown?”
“I didn’t, but my boss knows a guy. The guy was looking to add someone to his security team, to do some surveillance work. He said he was specifically looking to help guys like us . . . you know, give a guy a break.”
Juice handed the gun back and browsed the case again. My stomach did a couple nervous flips. Standing in this store, in front of this guy, it was like I was retracing Sam’s steps and I wanted to cry.
“How about that one?” Juice pointed to a small black gun in the case. “What was his name?”
The guy pulled another gun from the case and handed it to Juice to inspect. “His name? Jonathan Everett. He’s one of our best customers. Real friendly guy. The guy hugs everybody.”
I stopped cold. Hugs everybody?
I quickly pulled my phone from my pocket and searched for Houghton’s website. My hands started trembling. I clicked on a picture of Houghton’s leadership. I slid the phone across the counter to the guy.
“Is this the guy? Jonathan Everett?” I said as I surreptitiously pointed to Jonathan’s picture.
The guy looked down at the phone. His brows pinched. He looked back at me. “There’s some mistake. This isn’t Jonathan.”
I scrolled down farther. “What about this guy?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. That’s him.” He pointed to the picture of Hardy King.
“I think you got the names mixed up on these pictures. The name says Hardy King, but that’s our customer. That’s the guy who comes in and places the orders.”
Hardy was posing as Jonathan to purchase guns.
I went cold, my head light and dizzy. “Are you sure?”
“Hey, are you a cop or something?” The guy gave me a suspicious look. I was blowing Juice’s cover.
“No,” Juice said, before he lowered his voice even further. “She’s not a cop. She’s Sammy’s sister.”
The guy looked at me again, his suspicion barely lessened by Juice’s explanation. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen Sammy since I hooked him up with Jonathan. All I know is my boss said this guy needed someone to help out his security team. He wanted someone who had served time at Dodge State.”
“He specifically said someone from Dodge State?” I asked.
The guy hesitated, as if wondering whether he should say anything else. “Yeah.” I was angry at myself for having interjected in the conversation and raising his suspicions.
Juice chimed in. “We’re just looking for information. Nobody’ll know it came from you. You have my word. You said this guy is one of your best customers. What does he purchase?”
The guy nervously looked in the case. He raised his voice again. “Oh, how about this one? It’s a Smith & Wesson Shield 9 mm. It’s pretty slim, makes it easy for purses and bags.”
The husky man with the buzz cut popped over again, giving us all a suspicious look. “You folks doing okay? Rob helping you out all right?”
“Yes, sir, he sure is. My girlfriend is having a hard time deciding,” Juice said with a broad smile. The sales guy smiled back.
Someone behind us yelled, “Chuck, over here. I need your help.” The husky guy excused himself and moved on to a gun rack and a waiting customer.
The salesclerk handed a small black gun to me this time. I almost dropped it. I’d never held a gun before. “That was my boss. I’m sorry, Juice, but you guys gotta buy something or leave.”
“I’m sorry, but how many guns does he buy?” I asked.
“Look, the guy said he heads up security for some company . . . Cavern . . .”
I remembered the shipping documents Rudy showed me. “Cavanaugh?”
“Yeah, Cavanaugh Industries. He comes in, makes the purchases, and we send them out to his security teams across the country. The delivery truck picks up the shipment every month. That’s all I know.”
“A Houghton delivery truck?”
“Yeah.”
Before I could ask another question, Juice piped up. “Where is he sending the purchases?”