“It makes sense tying White to Delilah because she lost her good job with him, and it began the domino effect that lost her the house,” I say.
“So the next boyfriend—the one she lost her second job with—he might be next.”
“Weird coincidence,” I say, wondering how to put this in front of Riggens. I wouldn’t say anything at all about Dobbins but I see Riggens picking up a trail. “I was looking him up. He lives in Three Mile High. A buddy of mine up at the PD there said her second boyfriend was found shot to death in his pad—”
“I knew it!” Riggens shouts. “Cock-slaughter fest! I knew it. I knew it.”
“No,” I say, trying to get him off this one. It looks good, I know that. It would make sense if we were pinning this whole thing on Delilah but I don’t like it. Also, I know why Dobbins is dead.
“The Three Mile High cops found the murder weapon left at the scene. Some other guy he was selling drugs to.”
“Did they find the shooter?”
“Yeah. Dead.”
“So maybe she killed him,” Riggens looks me in the eye, his youth betraying him. “Like I said. Cock. Slaughter. Fest.”
“No,” I say, hand on his shoulder. “Drug deal gone bad.”
“I dunno, Mr. Buckner.”
“I do. My buddy said so.”
“Well, I should at least give him a call. What’s your buddy’s name?”
“Smith,” I look at Clevenger who knows exactly what happened even though I never told him. He knows me.
“Smith? Okay. What—”
“No. Jones,” I say.
“What? Smith or Jones? Which is it?”
“What?”
“You said Smith and then Jones. Which—”
“You mean Johnson?” Clevenger rolls his eyes. Riggens can’t see it.
“Who?”
“Up in Three Mile High.”
“Yeah. What was your friend’s name that—”
“What are you talking about?”
“No, what are you talking about?”
I turn the kid away from the dry erase board. “Tell you what. This doesn’t sit right to me. I need you to keep working the Shitski angle until he’s alibied out of it.”
“Here are all the pieces,” Riggens says, trying to motion to the board. “Fit ’em together. How can this not sit right with you?”
“I’ve been solving crimes since you were practicing un-doing a bra with your mother’s dirty laundry. Trust my gut when it says something doesn’t sit right in it. Understand me?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Riggens looks away. Looks back. Disappointed.
I slap his shoulder and turn him towards the door. “Dig around for Shitski. Keep your ears out for those other two flame-dicks in your department. Let me know what they turn up. I’m pretty sure they won’t get back with me.”