“I could care less about the part-time. Hell, I work one. Does he know your cousin?” Millhoff asks.

“Why would he know my cousin?”

“Because he’s working part-time as an officer in the club where your cousin was dealing drugs.”

“That’s something you’d have to ask Jasper. But I doubt it.”

“Why were you looking for Jeffrey this morning?” Now Hurley.

“I told you. His mother wanted to know when he was cutting classes. I know he had one this morning, though.”

“Obviously he wasn’t there?”

“What, we repeating questions now?” I say, a bit hyped.

No answer from either of them.

“By the way, those look to be the same clothes he was wearing last night,” I add, then “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” like I thought it instead of said it.

“What?” Millhoff asks.

“What do you mean, ‘What?’”

“You just said ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like you realized something.”

“What? No, it’s just…” I try to keep my heart from hammering too loud. “There’s got to be something I’m missing.”

“Well, let’s work through it, then,” Millhoff advises.

“Did you follow him out after he re-upped?” Hurley asks.

“No. I only wanted to see him do that shit, and I was out of there. Can’t stand the music.”

“Would you be able to recognize the guy who brought him the drugs if you saw him again?”

“Yeah, pretty sure I can.”

“Describe him for me.”

“Medium complexion, early twenties, maybe five eight, dreads down to his shoulders. He was wearing a T-shirt with a marijuana-leaf design on it. There’s a female bartender who was working. She served him a couple of times. Maybe she knows him.”

“You know her name?”

“No, but she was the only female bartender working when I was there. First time I was surveilling him, though, he stayed until closing. Left alone.”

“What times were you there?”

“Around nineteen thirty to around twenty-three hundred hours.”

My mind, still riding on coke, keeps moving.

“What was he shot with?” I ask.

“We don’t have that yet,” Millhoff says, and I know he’s not telling the truth.

“I have a .38 I keep upstairs in my nightstand drawer. You’ll wanna go check if it’s there.”

Hurley stands.

“I’ll check it out. Be right back,” he says.

“You know how it looks, Frank,” Millhoff says after Hurley leaves. “For all we know you were gone because you were disposing of your own property. You confronted your cousin about what he was doing, and it went real bad.”

“Fuck you, Tim.”

“And you made it look like a burglary.”

“He is my cousin, but if I was the shooter I’d sure as hell do a better job at making it look otherwise. The body certainly wouldn’t be in my kitchen. So again, fuck you.”

“Take it easy, Frank. You know I had to go there, just like I have to go here.”