“I’ve worked with a few burglars in my time, and I know how much some of them can smoke on a daily basis. That means a lot of homes they need to break into. I don’t understand why he hasn’t called you yet.”

“I told you he doesn’t always call ’cause he doesn’t always go for the big items.”

“I think he’s called you, but I can’t figure why you wouldn’t tell me unless you’re trying to protect him or you’re just plain scared. I don’t figure you for being scared, so you better fucking give it up or I will surely mess up your life.”

“You can smoke a cigarette if you want. Just roll down the window and blow the smoke outta my cab.”

What the fuck?

“What kinda answer is that?”

“Figured you need one. Might calm you down.”

Now he’s being a smartass, thinking he can turn it around.

I sit up and lean toward him so I’m near the back of his head.

“You sure you wanna try me like this, old man?” I tell him.

“You want me to take you to R Street, sit there for a bit?”

“I think we both know that’d be a waste of time, too.”

No answer.

“Tell me what’s going on, Diamond. I won’t give you a second chance.”

I can see that he bows his head, looks up again, and gazes through the front windshield, probably at nothing in particular.

“Haven’t I been a man of my word with you?” I ask him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Pretty much? Fuck you. You’re still driving the cab and going home after.”

“I ain’t stupid, either, so I figure you for either one dirty cop or not one at all.”

Damn, he is sharp.

I lean back, pull out my wallet.

“Turn around for me.”

He does.

I show him my badge and my creds.

“Can you see it good enough?”

“Yeah, including the identification that says you’re retired, but you showed me that before, and I didn’t see ‘retired’ on it, so isn’t that against the law, pretending to be the police?”