Page 67 of Penny For Your Thoughts
He must have recognized my continued confusion and added, “It was about a year and a half ago. I was working at JP Supplements. Yougave me the rest of your smokes and a business card. I… I was having a bad day.”
The pieces clicked, and I was back there. I’d visited the supplement store for a case Tallus and I had been working. The kid was a new-hire. When taking the garbage out, the bag had burst all over the parking lot, and he’d lost his temper. I’d recognized something in him. A kinship. At the time, he reminded me of myself. Boiling on the inside, the frail threads of self-control breaking one by one.
In a rare moment of empathy, I’d reached out, given him my card, and told him to call anytime because I understood the toxicity running through his veins.
He had never called, and I’d forgotten all about the exchange.
Was this who we were looking for? Impossible.
I glanced at his hands, where a line of shitty tattoos decorated his knuckles. The letters were indistinct in the dark. A ring circled his index finger, and he used his thumb to spin the center piece around and around and around, a clear indication he was anxious. Marcy had called it a fidget ring.
It was him. The guy we caught on video at Evergreen. Our imposter.
The one who had scammed Elwood out of tens of thousands of dollars, but the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. He was a child and barely getting by, if his appearance said anything.
“I don’t remember your name.” I kept my tone light and nonthreatening.
The kid shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and scanned the street, ignoring the question. “Why are you chasing me?”
“Why’d you run?”
He huffed humorlessly. “No offense, but you look like a thug and… Well, I’ve learned the hard way to run first and ask questions later.”
“We want to talk,” Tallus said, speaking for the first time since handing me the tissue.
“Why?” The kid assessed Tallus.
“I have a feeling you know why,” I said.
“The drugs?”
“The what?” I asked.
He shook his head and wiped his nose along his sleeve again.
The boy wore tattered jeans with holes and stains. His coat had seen better days and reeked of cigarette smoke. I suspected the zipper no longer worked. The threadbare hoodie underneath sported a band logo, and the sole of his right shoe had come unglued at the toe. A dirty sock showed through a significant hole at the end.
This kid rented the rundown basement-level apartment in a brownstone in a shitty neighborhood. I doubted he had the means to make rent. Nothing about him fit the profile of a person scamming seniors for boatloads of money. If he did, where the fuck was the money? This kid looked two steps away from joining the homeless.
If memory served, the boy I’d met at the supplement store had been living in a group home, playing footsies with the law. He would have aged out of the system, and sadly, a life of crime fit with statistics.
Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing, but I needed to tread carefully, or this would turn to shit, and we might lose our only lead.
“I don’t know anything about drugs. I’m here about missing money. Let’s find a fast-food joint. I’ll buy you supper, and you can tell me who the fuck you’re working for.”
I expected him to deny the accusation or refuse to go with us, but he hung his head and acquiesced.
***
Tallus limped along, favoring his right side. With a querying glance, I asked if he was okay, and he brushed me off.
“Cardio is not my friend, Guns. I’ll be fine. Gotta shake it off, you know?”
“I hate to remind you, but you’re still in your twenties.”
“I feel about sixty-five right now.”
“You and me both.” My knees sang with every step. Both elbows stung. My ear continued to pulse with its own heartbeat. Although my nose had stopped bleeding and prodding had told me it wasn’t busted, I expected I’d end up with matching shiners again. Story of my life.
