“Okay, you don’t want to talk about the car, that’s fine. We’ll find it ourselves and figure out what’s so special about it. Tell me where Chad got the car.”
Freddy slouched in his chair. “How would I know?”
“Quite sure you’re the one who hooked him up with it.” She was just following a gut feeling but wanted to see it through. “Maybe you’re indebted to that person and they’re not going to be too happy to hear it’s missing.”
“Not talking.” He crossed his arms.
It was interesting how Freddy thought by keeping his mouth shut he wasn’t communicating, because she was picking up the words not being said out loud. His body language was shut to this topic, which told her he had been involved with getting Chad the car and was trying to protect whomever he’d gotten it from and himself from them. Given the age of the vehicle, she’d wager that it wasn’t stolen but rather obtained from another lowlife who ran in Freddy’s world.
Her gaze dipped to the bracelet, but she had another question to ask before she returned to the jewelry on his arm. “Did you go to the Happy Time bar last night, say around ten?”
“No, man, I was with my guys at the pool hall until early morning. I told the pretend cop all that. And I’m pretty sure you knew where I was around four…”
She cringed at the reminder, but she wasn’t going to let it derail her. “That ‘pretend cop’ dragged your ass down here, and I assure you he also has the authority to lock it up.” The words were out before she processed them; she’d just defended Trent?
“Whatever.”
“Fine, you don’t want to tell me. We’re going to get their video and when we see your face on there—”
“I wasn’t at that crappy bar. I have nothing to hide.”
She set her mouth in a straight line and angled her head. “I think we both know that’s taking things a little too far.”
“If one of us has something to hide… You should be afraid of me,” he hissed.
She refused to let him steer the conversation. “Listen, I’ve got a dead body and it’s my job to find out what happened.”
“Yeah, your job, not mine.”
“Jackson Webb,” she tossed out.
“Who?” He scrunched up his face.
“Chad’s former business partner.”
“Okay,” he dragged out.
“He was murdered five and a half years ago. Did you kill him?”
“What?” he spat. “No, why would I?”
“Chad owed you a lot of cash,” she said, running on the assumption the large sum Palmer’d had was, in fact, to pay off Freddy. “You could have come after Jackson for it.”
“No, I didn’t. Not how I operate.”
“Sure about that?”
“Hell yeah.”
There’d be no point in asking him where he was the night of Jackson’s murder as he’d probably counter with how could he remember as it had been five and a half years ago. She made a mental note to see if Freddy had ever been questioned about the murder, but if Courtney hadn’t opened up to the police, as she’d told Amanda and Trent, the investigation probably never took them to his door. “What about Casey-Anne Ritter?”
“The little detective asked about her. I don’t know who she is.”
“She was murdered a few days before Jackson.”
“I’d send flowers, but…” He laughed and the expression of mirth chilled her; it was understandable why people feared him. But some bullies got off more on psychological games than inflicting physical brutality.
She nodded toward his wrist. “Where did you get that?” She may have been reaching here, as this particular bracelet might not have anything to do with Palmer. Then again it could be the connection between Webb, Palmer, and Ritter. Webb had visited Palmer not long after he’d gone to jail. She and Trent had assumed it was about the money, but what if it wasn’t? What if it had something to do with—