Frankie Gomez was.”
“You think he’s our killer?”
“He’s a little taller than Cy Tanner, but he could probably pass for him with a disguise on, at least to someone who didn’t really know Tanner.”
“And his motive?”
“That’s why we investigate.”
She punched the gas and they sped off.
Along the way her phone rang. She answered it and listened for a few moments. “I really appreciate that, thanks.”
She clicked off and looked at Laredo. “That was someone with Lineberry’s firm. It’s fortunate that Jack apparently had told some folks there about me. I didn’t ask for Myron’s salary, but I did ask if he made enough to pay cash for a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car.”
“And?”
“And he can.”
“Damn. I’m in the wrong line of work.”
“You just figured that out now? I thought you were a fast learner.”
* * *
They reached the Pringles’ house and Pine slowed her truck. When they passed the curve and saw the house ahead, Laredo said, “Wow, I’m really in the wrong business.”
“You should see Jack Lineberry’s place. It would make this look like a guesthouse.”
“Right, kick me when I’m down.”
No one answered their rings or knocks.
“Nobody here?” said Laredo, looking up at the front of the house.
“Let’s try around back. There’s a big garage. We might be able to see if there are any cars in there.”
They walked around the left side of the house and reached a courtyard, where there was a six-car garage with large wooden doors, but there were glass windows set in the wood about eight feet off the ground.
“Give me a hand up,” said Pine.
Laredo made a stirrup with his hands and boosted Pine up so she could see in one of the windows.
“Holy shit!”
Her hip bumped against his head in her agitation.
“What? Do you see the Mercedes?”
He let her back down and eyeballed her.
“What? Talk to me.”
“I can’t be sure, but I think I just found the Pagani.”
“What?”
She made a stirrup with her hands. “Take a look.”
“You sure you can lift—”
She cut him off with an incredulous look.
“Oh, never mind,” he said.
She easily boosted him up and he peered through the glass.
“That’s a Pagani all right,” he said.
She lowered him down to the ground and they both studied the garage.
“What do you think?” said Laredo.
“I think I want to get into that garage, and the house.”
“We don’t have a search warrant.”
“Probable cause?”
“Of what?” he retorted.
They turned when they heard the car approaching.
It was the Mercedes AMG. Britta Pringle rolled her window down. “Agent Pine? I thought I recognized the truck out front. What’s going on?”
“Is Myron home?”
“No, he’s traveling.”
“Traveling? Where?”
“On business. He doesn’t tell me much, I’m afraid.”
“Did you hear about Jack Lineberry?”
“No, what?”
“He was shot last night.”
“Oh, dear God.” Britta looked like she might faint. “Is he…?”
“He’s alive and it looks like he’ll make it.”
Britta started taking deep breaths. “How? Who? Was it at his house? But he has security people.”
“It was while he was driving. I was with him.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Just a scratch. When will Myron be back?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”
“Is that his Pagani in the garage?” asked Laredo. “We had a peek in the window.”
Britta looked suitably disgusted. “Can you imagine paying that much for a car? I feel guilty enough driving around in this one. We just bought it last year and Myron is already talking about trading it in. But where is Jack?”
“He’s at the hospital over in Americus.”
“Did they catch whoever did this?”
“The police are working on it. Um, can we go into the house?”
“Certainly, let me park the car.”
“And I’d like to take a look at the Pagani,” added Laredo. “I’m a car guy.”
“Okay,” said Britta, looking a bit confused.
She opened the garage door and drove in. They walked in behind her and Laredo immediately headed to the Pagani.
“Wow,” he said. “This is a Pagani BC,” he said, kneeling down behind the car. “Named after this guy, Benny Caiola.”
Pine joined him. “Why does he get that distinction?”
“He’s a big-time car collector and good friend of Horacio Pagani, who builds these suckers. It’s a V-12 with about 800 horsepower, seven-speed transmission, and weighs under three thousand pounds because it’s built mainly out of carbon fiber.”
“You really do know your cars.”
“Had the disease since I was a kid. I go to the car auctions just to gawk, since I can’t afford to buy anything.”
“Well, Cy Tanner was remarkably accurate in his description. This does look like the Batmobile.”
“Cy Tanner?”
They turned to see Britta approaching them with a shopping bag in hand.
“Yeah, he lives in my old house. He saw