Pawnbroker: A Thriller by Jerry Hatchett Read Free Book Online Page B

him out the side door, then sat down on a stool beside the pawn counter.
    “What was the point in that,” I said, shaking my head, “when I’m already charged with murder?”
    Penny was pacing, up and down the counter line. “They want you in jail. They obviously didn’t think the judge would grant bail. They figure if they can get you on something else, he’ll keep you there.”
    “I’m an honest businessman, Penny. You believe that?”
    “I do, but to them, you’re a cop-killer, which puts you somewhere between amoeba and cancer cell.”
    “What am I going to do?”
    “We are going to find the truth.”
    “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”
    “This is an ugly-ass world, Gray—and you can call me a sentimental goofball—but I still believe in old-fashioned truth and justice. I think you’re innocent and I intend to help you prove it.”
    “You’ve known me less than two hours. Why do you believe in me?”
    “I’m a good judge of character.”
    “And what else?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “There’s something you’re not saying.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “I’ve been a pawnbroker for twenty years. I get lied to all day, every day. I have a really good bullshit detector.”
    “Fair enough. I knew Johnny Homestead. He was a dirty, low-life, scum-sucking piece of trash. He was also my ex-partner.”
    “So, my lawyer’s investigator used to be partners with the ‘cop’ who pulled a gun on me and subsequently got blown away by yours truly? Is this supposed to be the mother of all coincidences or what?”
    “It’s no coincidence. I asked for this case.”
    “I see. What else have you failed to tell me, Miss Lane?”
    “I was going to tell you.”
    “When?”
    “What does it matter?”
    “It matters a damn lot. This is my head on the chopping block, and if you’re here to settle some kind of old score or whatever the hell you’re doing, then I had a right to know.”
    “I’m here to help you because you’re in way over your head and you still don’t realize how deep the water is.”
    “Then why don’t you tell me?”
    “Johnny and I were partners, narcotics, Memphis P.D. Nice things started turning up around him. Too nice. Tailored suits, expensive jewelry, cars.”
    “He was on the take?”
    “Worse. He was stealing evidence from drug busts and reselling it.”
    “And what did you do?”
    “I went to Internal Affairs. Turned him in.”
    “And?”
    “Found myself without a job. I.A. was in on it too.”
    “That’s why you’re working as a private investigator?”
    “You got it, although I don’t mind this job. Not near so dangerous and the pay’s a hell of a lot better.”
    “So nothing happened to Homestead?”
    “Not long after that, he quit. Word was he went to work for D.E.A.”
    “Geez, a dirty fed, huh?”
    “He wouldn’t be the first. Lots of good guys there, but lots the other way, too. Anyway, that was five years ago and I haven’t heard from him or about him since. Until he turns up dead here in your pawn shop.”
    “Then when did he make the switch from D.E.A. to working white-collar crimes in Mississippi? That’s the division he was in, you know.”
    “A year ago, but I just found that out yesterday.”
    “Wonder why he’d make a change like that. Reckon he went straight?”
    Penny laughed. “No way. When Johnny Homestead makes a move, there’s a good reason. He had some kind of racket lined up. Bet on it.”
    “How do we find out what that racket was?”
    “I’m working on that.”
    “I have something else for you.” I filled her in on Robo, how he had tipped me off on the cocaine sting, and also relayed his suggestion to get a copy of Homestead’s autopsy report.
    She listened, gathered her things, and said, “Okay, I’ll get on that right now. You go home and chill out.”
    I said good-bye and she headed out. Just before she stepped through the door, she turned around. “Sure you don’t have any idea what it is the caller