The fat detective said, “Tell you what, if Daggett walks out here, looks at you, and says, ‘Have a good day,’ lunch is on me any day you want.”
We shook on it. He said, “My name is Swinson. My friends call me Dave.”
The female detective said, “I’m Nancy Gorant. Nice to meet you. Maybe you’re not the asshole I pegged you for.”
I wagged a finger. “It’s awfully early to say I’m not. Trust me, I know we’re all in this together.” It was a feeling many cops shared. These two were no exception. I felt like I’d made a couple of friends. But I still didn’t have an answer from Daggett.
Bobby broke off from his meeting. When he came over to us, I explained exactly the deal I’d made with Daggett.
Bobby said, “I almost wish he’d come out here and say the guy’s a good suspect, if only to get you out of my hair. I just had a long talk with supervisors from my office. One of them noticed you. I hinted indirectly that you were here with the DC police and not me. Please don’t rat me out.”
Nancy Gorant said to Bobby, “We were just getting used to Detective Bennett being here. Are you as interested as him in finding the FBI agent’s killer?”
“I’m all in on finding Emily’s killer. That’s all I work on. I thought that Bennett would be a help, but so far I’m wasting too much time trying to explain him to other people.”
Before the debate could progress into whether I was worth saving in any way, the door to the office burst open and Detective Daggett stepped out. He’d been inside a little longer than I thought necessary.
He walked right up to me, cleared his throat, and said, “Have a nice day.”
I had a free lunch coming from Detective Swinson.
Chapter 59
It didn’t take long for Bobby to get nervous hanging around the DC police’s off-site building. There were just too many FBI supervisors and people who would ask questions about me. I’d noticed that Bobby was helpful and supportive, unless it interfered with his ambition. Finding a fellow FBI agent’s killer would go a long way toward propelling him to the top. And I was sure he didn’t care if I figured it out or he did, as long as he got the credit.
I was good with that. But I wasn’t about to send some mentally incapacitated homeless man to jail just to make it look like we’d solved the crime. That’s not how cops make their reputation.
Bobby broke off his conversation with a group of DC police supervisors and returned to me. He tugged at his collar and tie. Not a sign of inner peace.
I said, “Is that your Rodney Dangerfield impersonation?”
“Who?”
“Great stand-up comedian. Been in some classic movies.”
Bobby gave me a blank stare.
“Easy Money. Caddyshack.” After still no response, I said, “Are you more of a superhero-movie kinda guy?”
Bobby leveled a look at me. “I am a raised-by-Indian-parents kinda guy. The only movies I’ve seen are historical or documentary. The only TV shows I was allowed to watch played on PBS. Now, if you’re asking me about a writer, I’ve read them all. My parents would make me read a book before I could even go out and play soccer.”
I said, “Truthfully, I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or give your parents a prize.”
Bobby glanced around the parking lot and said, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.”
“Follow me,” I said. About five blocks away I had noticed two picnic tables in a shaded spot beside a convenience store/gas station.
I hustled inside while Bobby stayed in his car on his cell phone. The place was only two rows of junk food and a couple of big freezers. Merchandise was stacked from the floor to the low ceiling. Everything from cases of beer to portable Bluetooth speakers. The young woman behind the counter never looked up from her phone. I grabbed my traditional grape Gatorade and a big bottle of water for Bobby. I motioned to him that I was headed to the picnic tables.
Someone had put a flat-screen TV in the window facing the picnic tables. With the closed-captioning on, I didn’t mind having a few minutes to watch the prelude to the local news. It was just tilting into late afternoon, and the traffic was picking up.
I found a clean corner of one of the picnic benches. A lot of people clearly ate their lunch here every day. Only about half of them cleaned up after themselves.
Bobby finished his call and sat down across from me with his hands folded on the table. I handed him the water bottle, and he stared at me like he was about to give a confession.