I handed my car keys over to Lula. “I’m not done here. Leave my car at the bonds office. I’ll catch a ride with Diesel.” I looked at Diesel. “That’s okay, right?”
“It would come with a price,” Diesel said.
I rolled my eyes and grunted.
“There you go, thinking the worst,” Diesel said. “You don’t even know the price, and you’re doing that eye-rolling thing.”
“What’s the price?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Let’s see how the day goes and then we can negotiate.”
Good grief.
Diesel did a quick scan of the living room. “I assume you’ve already been through the apartment,” Diesel said. “Or did Lula get bat attacked early in the search?”
“I’ve been through the apartment. There’s nothing to see. I suspect Oswald never lived here. This was just an address to hand over to people like Vinnie.”
“Sounds like Oswald,” Diesel said. “He’s clever. Good at covering his tracks. Money to burn.”
“If he has so much money, why is he hacking information?”
“It’s the way he makes the money.”
“Okay, I get that, but if he has all this money, why would he need Vinnie to bond him out?”
“It was a high bond and I’m sure he never intended to make his court date. Why forfeit your own money when you can stick a bail bondsman with the loss?”
“I’m guessing you’ve had past experience with him.”
“Our paths have crossed. He’s not my favorite person.”
“How unfavorite is he?” I asked.
“As unfavorite as it can get.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No,” Diesel said.
“You’d have to kill me if you told me?”
“No. I’d depress myself if I had to list out all the reasons why I dislike this man.”
“Do you have other addresses for Oswald?”
“He keeps a condo in Zurich and a condo in Manhattan. I know he’s not in either condo,” Diesel said.
“Why is he in Trenton?”
“Good question. I don’t know the answer.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“We follow his obsessions. Fast cars, beautiful women, religious icons, and the Rolling Stones.”
“Anything else?” I asked. “Favorite food? Is he a sport fanatic? Does he have a favorite team?”
“He likes to give and receive pain,” Diesel said. “That’s his sport.”
“Lula might be able to help with that. She has some friends from her former profession who specialize in giving pain.”
“I doubt they operate at Oswald’s level, but we can ask Lula to look into it. No stone unturned. In the meantime, let’s start with fast cars,” Diesel said. “He favors Porsche.”
I followed Diesel out of the apartment house to a black and red Ducati.
“Nice bike,” I said.
He handed me a helmet. “It’s a Multistrada 1260 Enduro. It’s good on a chase and even better when you’re trying to lose someone.”
“And when it rains?”
“We get wet.”
Lucky us that it was a sunny day in September without much chance of rain. I tucked my hair into the helmet and straddled the bike.
Diesel powered up, returned to Chambers, and minutes later we were on Route One, on our way to a Porsche dealer. I’d like to say it was exhilarating to ride behind Diesel on the 1260, but a better word would be terrifying. Jersey drivers are for the most part fearless and totally lacking patience. Speed limits are taken as mere suggestions. I have to admit that I’m a typical foul-mouthed Jersey driver with rude hand signals and a lead foot when I’m encased in three thousand pounds of steel and fiberglass. Zigzagging through traffic on a crotch rocket is a whole other deal.
Diesel pulled into the dealership and parked in front of the showroom door. We got off the bike and removed our helmets.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re whiter than usual.”
“You’re a maniac driver. I said the rosary for the entire time we were on the highway, and I made promises to God that I couldn’t possibly keep.”
“Go figure. I thought you were screaming because you were excited.”
“I was screaming for you to slow down!”
The grin returned. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“No doubt. Now what?”