This stopped the laughter a bit, and Sanderson sat down in a chair at the table directly across from where Ava sat.
Ava showed her badge for the third time in less than ten minutes. “Mr. Sanderson, my name is Ava Gold, and I’m a detective with the NYPD. I need to—”
“Well, that’s just too sweet,” he said, chuckling. “Gold, you said? And a woman detective? My good Jesus, how long have I been in this hellhole? Did the world end?”
“Mr. Sanderson, I have very limited time to speak with you so I’d appreciate it if you would stop interrupting.”
“Yeah, but you—”
“Listen to her, Sanderson,” the large guard barked.
“You repeated my last name like it’s familiar to you. Why is that?”
Sanderson thought about this for a moment and started laughing again. “Gold. Wife of Clarence, right?”
Anger and curiosity buzzed inside of her like a bee in her guts. She sat up rigidly and stared him down. “How do you know that?”
“Ah hell, I’m not as stupid as I look. I had a feeling I knew who you were the moment you said your name. Who you were and why you were here. I just want to know what lousy bastard pointed you to me.”
“So you know why I’m here?”
“Sure. Delicious-looking thing like you walks into a place like this with a badge and turns out your husband’s dead—a dead cop, at that. You’re looking for the man that killed him.”
“I am,” she said, seething with rage.
“Sorry, baby, but it ain’t me.”
“I know it’s not you. But you know the man who did it and I need you tell me where I can find him.”
“Oh, I do? That’s rich. Why don’t you tell me his name?”
“Jim Spurlock.”
The mention of the name visibly shook his confidence. He stared at her now with something more than lust and arrogance. He knew he was between a rock and a hard place. Then he smiled, a slow tilt to his mouth that came gradually.
“Yeah, I know him. And I bet he’d love to see you.”
“Where can I find him?”
“What day is it?”
“Thursday.”
Sanderson nodded and she could see him thinking, the wheels of his mind churning. The question, though, was if he was really trying to find an answer or if he was simply conjuring up a clever lie.
“Thursday,” he said. “Well, unless he’s switched things up, you’ll find him in the basement of this small tobacco warehouse out on Seventy-ninth Street. Little gambling den. Poker, dice, that sort of thing. Hell, they’ll even have chickens fighting every now and then. You might want to get there early, though. Mr. Spurlock likes to get his gambling done before all the poor, trouble-making riffraff get out on the streets.”
The large guard and the overweight one both seemed to stiffen at this. The overweight one pushed Sanderson hard from behind, rocking his seat a bit. “You better not be lying to this lady,” he said.
“Nope, no lies.”
“So then why are you giving me this information so easily?” Ava asked.
“Oh, a bunch of reasons. First, because there’s about three crooked bastards in that place that have cheated me out of money. And second…you can go chasing after Mr. Spurlock all you want, but you won’t get him. Like I said…I think he’d like to meet you. And if you aren’t careful, you’ll end up like your husband.”
Ava felt her hands clenching tightly and her breaths coming in thin, shallow hitches. She got to her feet and turned away from Sanderson before she lost control.
“Detective Gold?” the large guard said.