I felt a bit weak in the knees. “What kind of business?” I asked, playing dumb.

“We’re also in the retail business. We sell suits. Nothing but the best. Like this,” he said, stepping out from behind the desk, raising his hands and turning around. “Pretty nice merchandise, wouldn’t you say? Armani.”

“The suits,” I said. “I saw them in the garage. So you guys not only deal cocaine, you steal high-end designer clothing.”

Bullock smiled. “We’re diversified. That’s the kind of economy we’re dealing with these days. Can’t put all your eggs in one basket.” He paused, said to Pockmark, “I wonder how things are going in the garage?”

I wondered, too. Maybe Trimble was out there. Maybe he’d subdued Blondie, was on his way to take out his buddy and the Barbie collector.

Bullock pressed the intercom unit on his desk. “Hey!” he shouted. “How’s it going out there? Hello?”

There was a bit of static and shouting as Bullock and Blondie tried to speak to each other at the same time. Bullock looked at me sadly, shook his head. “I’m trying to run this place more professionally, and look at the problems I have.”

Finally, he and Blondie coordinated their button pushing, and Blondie’s voice came through clearly. But he sounded very concerned.

“I think we may have a problem, Mr. Bullock.”

Bullock frowned, glowered at the intercom. “I don’t want to hear that kind of shit! What do you mean, a problem?”

“There’s nothing in this car. Not a fucking thing.”

Chapter 31

31

“Nothing?” Bullock said.

“Everything I found, I tossed in a box, but it’s definitely not what you were hoping for,” Blondie said over the speaker.

“Bring it here,” he said, and took his finger off the intercom. He looked first at Pockmark, then at me. “What kind of shit you trying to pull here?” He was breathing pretty heavily now, which triggered a short coughing fit and prompted another sip of water.

“Believe me,” I said, “if there’s anyone here who wanted you to find what you wanted in that car, it’s me.”

This was not a good development. Bullock not finding what he’d hoped to, his face flushed red with anger. Not a good development at all.

Unless, of course, it was a good development.

Maybe this would buy me and Angie some time. Maybe this would give Trimble time to do what he had to do. And speaking of Trimble, where the hell was he? Anytime he wanted to make an appearance and bring an end to these proceedings was okay by me.