“Richard?” Clevenger’s voice comes from deep in a well a thousand miles away.
I clear my throat. “Yeah? Go ahead.”
“All right. Mom upset that her adult child took off into the night?” Clevenger asks.
“Yeah. She called her once since then—today—screaming about being pregnant and afraid of something.”
“You think she’s crying wolf?”
“Who knows. I told Darla to file a new report, but there are no specifics on any threat, just general yelling and whatnot.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Can you also run a plate for me?”
“I can.”
“Will you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. The plate is our state, vanity. Reads BMPIN. B-M-P-I-N. Belongs to a Ben something. Last is Greek.”
“Anything else while I’m digging?”
“Yeah. The Ben something was involved in a forced entry and an address over on Carolina.” I shuffle through a pile of papers and give the street number. “Can you send me a copy of that also?”
“I’ll take the rest of the day off from the murder investigation I’m on. No problem. Do you want a coffee also?”
“Yes. Black. With whiskey.”
“Fuck you.”
“Graham, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”
“It wasn’t hard.
All I had to do was not report you to IA. Unlike every other partner you ever had.”
“Tell Molly I said hello.”
“Yeah yeah. Good luck. I’ll call when I have the reports. Your BMPIN car is registered to one Benjamin Kolokios, 12298 Grantham Boulevard, apartment 18D.”
“Thanks.”
“Priors on possession, B and E and misdemeanor theft, failure to appear, DUI, assault, assault, possession, public intoxication, failure to appear, DUI.”
I hear Graham click and shuffle through the online rap sheet. Looking for details. Then, “His charges...dope is all Big Fry-related.”
“Big Fry?”
“Big Fry.”
“Alright. Grantham Boulevard here I come.”
“If you’re going to kill him you better make damn sure this doesn’t get traced back to me. Got it?”
“They never trace anything back to you. You know why?”