” Her voice trailed off.“Until you could peddle the d**gs?” I asked, trying to sneer. Frankly I doubted that Darrel Green, A.K.A. Hammer, was a dealer. I hadn’t seen any activity that would indicate d**gs and I can usually spot it.“No, no I don’t have anything to do with d**gs,” She said. “I don’t know what’s in the case.”“You are lying,” I said. It’s very hard to do the “good cop/bad cop” thing when you are by yourself, so I was just doing the bad cop half of the routine.“Just some papers,” She cried. “I swear that’s all I know ‘bout. It’s locked and I ain’t got a key.”“What kind of papers, Betty?” I asked. “If it’s locked how do you know what’s in it?”“I saw Darrell put some papers in it this morning just...just before...ah...you know.”“Did the cops talk to you?’ I asked.“What’ch mean?” she asked. “Ain’t you a cop?”Opps, “Of course,” I snapped. “I mean the other cops.”She stilled looked at me suspiciously. “Yeah, some. They asked me what I knew about Darrell.”“What did you tell. So why was I looking?It was her face, I guess -- not her features, though. She had a wide forehead and regular features with maybe a bit of pixie in them -- but she wasn’t Catherine Zeta Jones, by any stretch. No, it was her expression -- her eyes, mostly, although they were an unremarkable brown under slightly bushy brows. It was what was in them -- and what was in her face -- that put me on Yellow Alert and caused me to undock from the coffee machine and reposition to head up the aisle she would be returning down.If you’re a guy, I know you’ve been out and seen women that you just wanted -- one look and it’s there. Sometimes, they look back and it seems to be mutual -- but somehow, neither of you has the guts and you each go your separate ways. Maybe it’s because you’re following the woman you have a long-term relationship around the store and you’re aware that she wouldn’t appreciate the diversion. Maybe it’s timing. Maybe it’s a total lack of testicular fortitude. The opportunity.
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