“Afternoon, officer,” I greet. He’s young. Twitchy. Has an attitude, a cocky head tilt, and smugness that rubs me wrong almost immediately.

“Well, two presidents for the price of one. Must be my lucky day.”

See, I knew he’d be a douche.

Rock remains silent at my side. This is my club to protect.

“If you’re lost,” I point toward the road, “the highway’s over there. Follow it on out to the big road and keep on going.” The tone I use is pretty similar to how I talk to the dogs.

His partner comes around the side of the car. He’s older. Slower. Smiling.

“Settle down, Henry.” Apparently old and slow plans to play aw shucks, these new recruits got no respect cop today. He holds out his hand. “You’re new to downstate, right?”

“Temporary.”

“Your prez took a bullet to the skull, right?”

Well, at least he’s getting right to the point. “You find the person responsible?”

“Not yet. That’s not what we’re here for today, Mr. Frazier.”

Great, they already know my name. Perfect. I keep my face neutral.

“We don’t have all day.” I roll my hand in front of me in a hurry up gesture. “What do you want?”

“You know Malone’s bowling alley out on 55?”

“I’ve been there once or twice over the years. It’s a dump.”

“It’s a pile of rubble,” the young cop says.

I raise my eyebrows like I’m waiting for more information.

“Someone burned it down last night. You know anything about that?”

Hah. Nope. I was there and I still have no fucking idea what happened. “No, sir. You sure it was intentional? The place wasn’t in the best shape last time I was there. Was anyone hurt?”

“When were you there last?” the older cop asks.

“A couple months ago, maybe?” The night Murphy and I shook down the owner for some cash he owed the mafia. Just a regular Saturday night of fun.

“Any of your bros been there more recently?”

I glance at Rock, who shakes his head. “You’d have to ask them.”

“Can we come inside?”

Sure, please allow me to make your jobs easier. God only knows what’s going on inside the clubhouse at the moment. “You got a warrant?”

“Do we need one just to come in for a chat?

Points to the old guy for giving it a solid try. “I’m fine chatting out here.”

“Seems like if you’re really an innocent club of Harley lovers, it’d be no big deal to let us inside,” young cop says.

“What exactly are you hoping to find? A smoldering bowling ball? I already told you I don’t know anything about Malone’s. If one of my brothers has some info, I’ll be sure to have him call ya.”