Darynda jones charlie davidson 01 first grave on the right

“Really?” Barber said. “Because I could have sworn I smelled barbecue a while ago. Do they have barbecues on this side?”

I chuckled and sat down next to Uncle Bob. After twenty minutes of arguing on how to go about taking down Benny Price, I came up with a plan. Benny owned a series of strip clubs called the Patty Cakes Clubs. The name alone was all kinds of disturbing. And according to the file the investigative task force had on him, Benny liked those strippers, though not half so much as he liked himself.

“I have a plan,” I said, thinking aloud.

“We already have a task force investigating him,” Ubie said. “If anything, we need to coordinate our efforts with them, take our cues from their investigation.”

“They’re taking forever. In the meantime, Mark Weir is sitting in jail, Teddy Weir is missing, and we have families who want answers.”

“What do you want me to do, Charley?”

“Set up a sting,” I said.

“A sting?” Garrett asked, his expression incredulous.

“Just give me a chance. I can get evidence on the man before the sun goes down today.”

While Garrett practically bucked in his seat, Uncle Bob leaned toward me, interest sparkling in his eyes. “You got something cooking?”

“Detective,” Garrett said in a scolding tone, “you can’t be serious.”

Ubie shook himself as if coming out of a trance. “Right. It was just a thought.”

“But, Uncle Bob,” I said, whining like a child who’d just been told she couldn’t have a pony for her birthday. Or a Porsche.

“No, he’s right. Besides, your dad will put a contract out on me.”

“Psh,” I pshed, raking my gaze over him in disappointment. “Can you say wuss?”

That had to sting. I didn’t psh him often.

“Charley, you were almost killed today.” Garrett’s silvery gaze glittered with anger. He was so moody. “And yesterday. Oh, right, and the day before. Maybe you should give it a rest?”

“Maybe you should bite my ass.” I turned back to Uncle Bob. “I can do this, and you know it. I do have a slight advantage over the average Joe.” “What did you say?” Garrett asked. “You have a slight advantage over the average psycho? I doubt it.”

Well, that was just mean.

“What are you thinking?” Ubie asked, unable to help himself, and my smile shone bright with superiority. Would Garrett never learn?

“You said that you haven’t been able to get wiretaps in his office, right?” I asked.

“Right. Not enough evidence.”