so they took the word of the lone eyewitness.”
“And who was that?” I asked.
“Todd Bingham himself,” he said, giving me a sideways glance as he pulled up in front of a house that was at the front of the property. A large metal building was about fifty feet to the right of the house, surrounded by too many old cars to count on either side. Several more of them were parked behind it, going back as far as I could see. Another smaller building sat a bit farther back. I couldn’t tell if it was a shed or an old barn.
“What did Floyd do for a living?” I asked, an idea formulating in my head.
“Ran that junkyard you’re lookin’ at. Todd took it over and made it into a chop shop. The paperwork claims he’s doin’ it on cars he owns or was hired to work on, but we know he’s stealin’ ’em too. We just haven’t caught him yet.”
More like they were turning the other cheek.
“Have you figured out how you’re gonna approach him yet?” Marco asked.
“I’m gonna ask him to buy my car.” I got out, heading up to the front porch of the bungalow-style house that had probably seen its glory days back in the Prohibition era. With the faded and peeling paint, it was obvious Bingham wasn’t going for curb appeal.
I knocked on the door and waited, peering around for any sign of Lula. Nothing popped out, not that I’d really expected it to be so easy. Bingham might feel safe and secluded out here, but he wasn’t stupid enough to chain her to his front porch.
The door opened and Bingham filled the doorway. I’d somehow forgotten how big he was, or maybe he only seemed bigger because I wasn’t in a safe zone.
He held a beer can in his hand and wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read, The South Lives.
“Well, well, well,” he smirked. “This is quite the surprise. What brings you to darken my doorstep, Ms. Moore?” He said my name in a snide tone.
“I want to scrap my old car, and I want to know how much you’ll give me for it.”
He nodded to Marco’s SUV, which was parked perpendicular to the house. “You needed a sheriff deputy escort for that?”
So he’d recognized Marco. I’d been counting on it. “Marco and I were takin’ a nice drive so he could get out of the house, and when he mentioned you lived down this way, I suggested we stop.”
He laughed. “Is that so?” Leaning his shoulder into the doorframe, he said, “I already offered to buy your car, but your boyfriend said no.”
“What?” This was the first I’d heard of it—the first I’d even heard of Wyatt talking to Bingham—and I couldn’t hide my shock.
His brows shot up. “He didn’t tell you, huh? I’m surprised—not about his refusal to sell it to me. He’s never sold me nothin’ since he bought that business. But I am surprised he didn’t tell you that I’d offered. I took it that you two had a more modern relationship.”
The last thing I intended to do was discuss my relationship—or lack thereof—with Wyatt. “Wyatt Drummond doesn’t run my life or the fate of my car. I’m ready to be done with it, so I want to work out an arrangement.” I peered past him into his living room, which was full of faded, vintage-style furniture. “You gonna invite me in to discuss it?”
His eyes narrowed. “You know, this has the look and feel of entrapment all over it. Have you become a deputy sheriff, Carly Moore?”
I puffed out my chest and lifted my chin as I propped my hands on my hips. “Got something to hide, Todd Bingham?”
He started laughing. “I never know what’s gonna come out of that smart mouth of yours.” The laughter faded, and his mouth settled into a harsh line. “But the answer is no. I never conduct business in my house. We can do this out here because it will be short and sweet. I can offer you a thousand dollars.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not enough. I need a new car, so I need more money than that.”
“Sounds like a personal problem, sweetheart. Not mine. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” I said, dropping my arms. “I’ll leave it.”
I turned to walk toward the steps, but he called out good-naturedly, “Well now, hold on there.”
I paused and half-turned back to him. “You ready to stop insultin’ me?”
He chuckled. “I’ve got