“I understand he and Moogey were friends.”
“That's what I hear.”
“Did Kenny come around the garage a lot?”
“No.”
“Did Moogey ever talk about Kenny?”
“No.”
Was I wasting my time? Yes.
“You were here the day Moogey was shot in the knee,” I said. “Do you think the shooting was accidental?”
“I was in the garage. I don't know anything about it. End of quiz. I got work to do.”
I gave him my card and told him to get in touch if he should think of anything useful.
He tore the card in half and let the pieces float to the cement floor.
Any intelligent woman would have made a dignified retreat, but this was New Jersey, where dignity always runs a poor second to the pleasure of getting in someone's face.
I leaned forward, hands on hips. “You got a problem?”
“I don't like cops. That includes pussy cops.”
“I'm not a cop. I'm a bond enforcement agent.”
“You're a fucking pussy bounty hunter. I don't talk to fucking pussy bounty hunters.”
“You call me pussy one more time, and I'm going to get mad.”
“Is that supposed to worry me?”
I had a canister of pepper spray in my pocketbook, and I was itching to give him a blast. I also had a stun gun. The lady who owned the local gun shop had talked me into buying it, and so far it was untested. I wondered if 45,000 volts square in his Harley logo would worry him.
“Just make sure you're not withholding information, Sandeman. Your parole officer might find it annoying.”
He gave me a shot to the shoulder that knocked me back a foot. “Somebody yanks my parole officer's chain, and somebody might find out why they call me the Sandman. Maybe you want to think about that.”
Not anytime soon.
Stephanie Plum 2 - Two For The Dough
5
It was still early afternoon when I left the garage. About the only thing I'd learned from Sandeman was that I thoroughly disliked him. Under ordinary circumstances I couldn't see Sandeman and Kenny being buddies, but these weren't ordinary circumstances, and there was something about Sandeman that had my radar humming.
Poking around in Sandeman's life wasn't high on my list of favored activities, but I thought I should probably spare him some time. At the very least I needed to take a look at his home sweet home and make sure Kenny wasn't sharing the rent.
I drove down Hamilton and found a parking place two doors from Vinnie's office. Connie was stomping around the office, slamming file drawers and cussing when I walked in.
“Your cousin is dog shit,” Connie yelled at me. “Stronzo!”
“What did he do now?”
“You know that new file clerk we just hired?”