"My roommate wore it to a club a few days ago," I said.
Even the dog gave me a disbelieving look. I sat back down on my stool – it was going to be a long evening.
#
"Convenient that your roommate lent you this coat we found in your room," the bald officer said.
I was glad when my phone rang. I looked down and saw Quinn's name. My stomach jumped more from her than from the suspicious looks the police gave me.
"One of your clients?" the second officer asked.
"The fading scent of pot on a sports coat that was worn to a dance club doesn't really prove intent to sell, does it?" I asked. "And since I'm not the average under-informed, sub-intelligent criminal I'm sure you're used to making you feel smart, this whole search is over." I opened the door to let them out.
The K-9 officer was pulled through the open door by his eager partner. Two of the others shrugged and went to follow him, but the bald policeman blocked the door.
"Funny thing about stereotypes," he said. "They always come from some sort of truth. Like the fact that most criminals get all cocky like you are now before the weight of the law chokes it out of them."
I found a beer on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator and cracked it open before sitting back down on my kitchen stool. The police officers looked thirsty. "Go ahead and keep searching. You've got your warrant, and I'm not stopping you."
He scrubbed his bald head. There was no reason for them to remain at my place, but he could not let me have the last word. "Tell us about this alleged roommate of yours."
"Alleged? His name is on the mailbox and all that mail over there. I would have thought you would know all about him from your search of his bedroom."
"Are you going to cooperate or what, Mr. Redd?" He crossed his arms over a beefy chest.
"Fine, yes. My roommate's name is Jasper Collins. He does freelance web design, mainly for commercial businesses and corporations. He's always telling me he's after the 'big fish.' I think he even sent a proposal to your precinct after he got fed up trying to pay a parking ticket through your website."
"Freelance? So you two just sit around all day staring at your screens?" the officer asked.
"No, Jasper is more of the go-getter type. He gets most of his clients through face-to-face meetings. Encourages the techno-afraid to let him help," I said.
"And who was his last client?"
"A bakery over on Tenth," I said. "He said they have good donuts, maybe you know the place?"
The cops all sneered, but the tallest one stopped and tilted his head as he thought. "They did. The place closed down two months back."
I mentally ran through the list of clients Jasper had talked about. As I thought about it, I realized three of the clients he mentioned recently were local businesses I had seen closed or for rent. I never paid much attention because Jasper always paid his share of the rent on time and in full. There were holes all through his work stories, and I had just tripped into one in front of the police.
"A lot of businesses try shutting their brick and mortar stores and going online," I said.
One of the officers ducked into Jasper's room and came back out with a business card and folio. "Looks pretty polished to me. Your roommate's got a solid business plan. What? I went to business school before academy."
The bald policeman shook his head at his partner. "So, your roommate is a go-getter with a business plan and real clients. And you play an imaginary game for money."
Quinn called again. I took another swig of my beer and enjoyed knowing her quick wit was only a button away. What would she say to the room full of police? The thought made me smile.
"Another client?"
"No. Same person," I said and showed him my phone.
"Oh? You get a lot of ladies by playing video games?" the bald officer asked.
"You'd be surprised how many attractive women play Dark Flag, officer. She's actually very good at it. A novice, but I think if I trained her up a bit she'd be amazing," I said.
He took the phone and considered the photo of Quinn that accompanied her ring. It was one of my favorite pictures.
Sienna and I had gone together to visit Quinn the day she arrived on campus. She had just pulled on her UCLA sweatshirt. Her hair was a riot and she was brushing it back and smiling a wide grin when I snapped the picture. Sienna dismissed it for not being posed or polished. That was what I loved most about it. Quinn looked natural and happy with a bright shine to her eyes.