“And where’s Renaldo?”
“Parkview Cemetery.”
“Dead?”
“Gee,” he said, glancing at me. “You must be a real detective.”
“I was an agent, too,” I said.
“Federal?”
“Yup,” I said.
“Sorry if I sounded like an ass.”
“Oh, you did.”
“It’s just that some blowhard private dicks come in here with all sorts of swagger—and don’t know shit about what they’re talking about. I didn’t know you worked for the feds.”
“Now you do.”
“Now you’re on your own?”
“I am.”
“Happy?”
“Turns out I like working for myself. I happen to be a helluva boss.”
He laughed. “I couldn’t do it. I need someone riding my ass all day. Otherwise...”
“Otherwise, you would play HALO all day.”
“You sound like you’re judging me.”
“My son plays HALO,” I said.
“It’s a good game—”
“My son is ten.”
“These are more than just games, they’re experiences.”
“If you say so,” I said. “How did the previous detective die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“A car accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So am I. He was a good guy. We miss him here.”
“When was the accident?”
Detective Sharp shrugged. “Three weeks ago.”
I made sympathetic sounds that I didn’t really feel. Truth was, these days, I found death a lot less...heartbreaking. I found death. more...interesting. Exciting, even.
No, she found death exciting.