Method 15 33 by Shannon Kirk Read Free Book Online Page B

doused herself in Old Spice, which she reeked of morning, noon, and past midnight on all night stake-outs.
    Boyd’s place was moderately uncluttered but very dusty. Pans and plates were in the sink, and by the curdled milk smell and thefat, roaming flies, I guessed they’d been dirty awhile. On top of an open aluminum trashcan in the kitchen, a pile of unopened mail spilled over the rim and onto the floor. A dozen or more wet rolls of newspapers littered the linoleum counter. On a rag rug in front of a blue refrigerator, a mammoth Old English Sheepdog lounged, lolling her lazy eyes when we entered.
    “Don’t mind ol’ Nicky. She’s a farter, but a damn good dog to me,” Boyd informed, as he offered coffee by pantomiming drinking from a mug and pointing to a percolator. I declined. So did Lola.
    Still within the kitchen, Boyd and I sat across from each other at a dandelion-yellow Formica table with thin chrome legs. Lola stood behind me like a sentry, staring Boyd into discomfort, her arms folded high atop the breasts she smashed down and in with who-knows-what—probably duct tape, I never asked.
    Boyd bounced his furry eyebrows and pursed his lips, as if to say,
please begin, Mr. Liu, you have my full attention now
. And thus began the interview of Mr. Boyd L. McGuire. I memorized every word so as to later transcribe the exchange, which is what I did in motel rooms while Lola lurked around rural towns like a vampire, searching for loose-talking, drunk locals who “might have seen or heard something” or perhaps “suspect some pervert in town”; and so rumors and dark-alley whispers became her night-woman’s probable cause.
    Actually, I admire Lola. She was, still is, a good detective for countless reasons, which is why we’ll have to obscure her identity. Many a child has been pulled from doom due to her questionable tactics. You never heard me ever once ask her to explain herself. Like a hungry dog, I took whatever intel she poured into my breakfast bowl. I had to feed a hole inside me, damage I’d carried within for decades.
    “Boyd, you mind if my partner here looks around your barn while I ask you some questions?”
    “Not at all. What ya’ll lookin for anyway?”
    “Don’t know, Boyd. You got something to hide?”
    “I ain’t got nothin’ to hide. Look evra-whar ya’ll want. I’m an open book.”
    “Thanks, Boyd. We appreciate you helping us out.”
    Lola had already banged back out through the front door, having turned and left upon the cue.
    “I understand you had a maroon Chevy van?”
    “Sure did. Sold her ‘bout three months ago.”
    “That so? Who did you sell it to?”
    “No idea, Mr. Liu.”
    “Yeah?”
    “I parked the van on the curb with a sign, ‘For Sale.’ Had an ad in tha paper too. Guy shows up. Said he’d hitched a ride from the train station. Gives me cash, twenty-two hund-erd. Tha’ end.”
    “What about the registration? Did you talk to him about changing it?”
    “Sure. He said he’d take care a ‘dat. Don’t know much about no paperwork since my Lucy died. She gone, three years ago come next month. God Rest Her Soul. She took care-a all that mumbo jumbo. What, I screw up bad with the law cuzathat, Mr. Liu. This why you here? Don’t the FBI got bigga fish ta’ fry and all is what I mean, but mean no trouble, Mr. Liu. Whatever you want. Like I said, I’m an open book, now.”
    “No, no. Nothing like that, Boyd. What did the buyer look like?”
    “Hard ta’ say. Sorta’ nondescript to me, yeah. Got himself a belly, as I rememba. Not real handsome, no. I think he probably had brown, yeah, brown hair. Hmmph. Whole transaction took about ten minutes. I showed him she could start and all, showed him the manual tucked up in her glove box. Said I’d throw in the stove as well. I had an old stove in the back a’ her. That was about it.”
    “Did you have one of those specialty frames on the plate that says ‘Hoosier State’?”
    “Sure as heck did. Cousin