Illegal

FIFTY-EIGHT

Detective Rigney answered the phone in his Parker Center office. Surprised to hear Deputy Sheriff Dixon calling from his piece-of-shit trailer outside Calexico. Rigney could practically smell the ratty boar's head on the wall.

"Just got a call from a waitress at the Park 'n Eat," Dixon told him. "A diner up by Thermal. Technically, that's in Riverside County, out of my jurisdiction, but-"

"Get to the point, Dixon, before global warming fries our asses."

"Payne and the kid were there. Had breakfast this morning. Want to know what they ate?"

"She's sure it's them? She's absolutely sure?" Excitement bubbling up like the oil at the tar pits.

"She I.D.'ed them from a TV report. Said the guy was a real smart-ass."

"That'd be Payne."

"He used the pay phone. Twice. One call out, one call in."

"You gonna subpoena the numbers?"

"Don't need to. My sister-in-law works at the phone company. I'll have everything in an hour."

"Can't wait to see that bastard's face when I bust him." Thinking the A-Form would report that the subject resisted arrest, resulting in his subsequent injuries.

"They left in a hurry," Dixon said. "An old blue Mustang convertible. The waitress couldn't make out the plates, except they were out of state. Car headed north toward an entrance to the I-10."

A physical sensation, Rigney's skin tingling, like the anticipation of sex. "You did great, Dixon. Sorry for busting your chops."

"It's okay. I just want a piece of that shyster."

"You got it, pal. You can have whatever's left when I'm done with him."