Parker answered and held his breath when he heard her voice. After the way he ended the last call he was almost afraid to speak.

"Parker?"

"Yeah . . . hi."

"Hey, I'm sorry about doubting you, okay?"

"Me too. Sorry I mean. I didn't need to get nasty."

"Holt called and told me he spoke to you and they're going to look into it."

"He called you, eh."

"He took you seriously, Parker."

"Right. Good. So, anything else?"

"Yes, I don't want you mad at me. We are kind of in this together and both out of work to boot."

"True. Things are getting a little tight."

"I still have all those groceries we bought before Holt called about the killer."

"Is than an invite?"

"It won't cost you anything and I can't eat it all myself before it might spoil. "

"Okay then. And by the way, about costing me anything. I'm not cheap . . . but I am on special this week."

"I think I made an error." Des hung up laughing.

Parker grabbed the sports bag he hadn't even unpacked and hurried out the door. He'd argue about bringing his other stuff with him later.

******

Mickey sat up but stayed crouched behind the wheel of his car as he watched Parker hop up from his basement apartment and start down the street. He waited until Parker was at the corner before starting his car and following. Lester might think he was useless and didn't know his ass from- from whatever but he'd show him. This guy was talking to the cops again after Tabor was dead and that had to mean something.

The confidence in his theory wavered as he thought about Grace Purcell. Surely his own uncle wouldn't rat him out . . . would he? The worry flowed through his mind and Mickey made a decision, bobbing his head in silent confirmation.

************

Caleb 'Donny' Donnigan was a street rat that bought and sold information to the first dollar that crossed his palm. His sheet with the police was a testament to a life void of even an iota of morals and was as long as Donny had been on the street. Mickey had known him from school where they both dropped out in their final years and had kept in touch, trading mutually beneficial favours.

In his usual habitat on the stool of a dingy bar, Donny waved to Mickey as his old mate entered and nodded him to a booth, calling for a couple of drafts as he led the way.

"Lookin' up yer bum, Mick." Donny gulped down half the glass and forced a loud belch, grinning.

"Back at ya, Donny." Mickey stared into his glass and offered a weak smile. "Still collecting bits and pieces?"

"What is it you want, Mick. Don't piss about."

"Cop shop talk. You know about Earl at Gutbusters."

"Yep."

"Well they found they guy-"

"Mick, I'm the info guy. I know all that crap, get to the point."

"A witness, a couple actually. A comic from the club and a broad that does pole dancing, are still goin' in and out of the cops and I can't figure a reason."

Donny drained his glass and banged it on the table for attention then raised it up to the bartender. "Why does it matter to you? You have somethin' to do with that?"

"Jesus, Donny, bite your tongue. Tabor, the guy that got iced was a contact of mine for a few things. Their investigation could turn my name up."

"You hiring killers now, Mick?"

"No. Tabor was muscle too."

"Mostly between his ears from what I hear." The bartender slid another draft onto the table and glanced at Mickey. "So what, you hired Tabor to muscle Earl? He owe Lester?"

"Jesus, Donny, forget all that okay? Has nothin' to do with what I'm askin'"

"Which is?"

"Look, I need to know why this comic guy is still goin' in to see the cops. Can you find out for me?"

"And this benefits me how?"

"C'mon, Donny, as soon as I get something it's yours - exclusive. You know me."

"Let me lay off a few bets with your boss, Lester and I'll have what you want tonight."

Mickey felt his glands let go and he tugged his shirt away from his skin. "That's not a simple ask, Donny."

"And yours is?" Mickey pictured Lester allowing Donny to place a bet free then he pictured Lester twisting Mickey's head right off.

"How much?"

"Couple hundred in Saturday's third race. Bangor Road to place."

"Jeez, Donny, we usually trade something a little less expensive. I'm gonna hafta cover that you know."

"Be here tonight at eight and you'll get your info. Nice seein' you, Mick. Don't be a stranger." Donny slid out of the booth and resumed his station on the stool at the bar.

******

Parker jogged to the stop as the bus arrived and swung aboard dragging the big bag with him. He paid his fair and stumbled down the aisle to the rear. His eye caught the car pulling up behind and he moved faster, kneeling on the seat and staring out at the driver. It was the same car! He fumbled his phone out and then searched for the police detective's card.

"Shit. Where is it."

The bus rolled to the curb and Parker watched the car drop back then zoom around and past the stopped vehicle. He watched it go and followed through the windows until it was out of sight.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered to himself.

The bus stopped again and Parked hopped off standing by the stop until the bus pulled away. He looked up and down the street but saw nothing of the car that was following him. It was a short block to Des' street and he covered it quickly, bouncing up and ringing her unit, his eyes flitting choppy surveillance in all directions. The buzzer clicked and he pushed through and up the stairs to her apartment.

"Hi, that was fast." Des opened the door and immediately went back to the kitchen.

He closed and locked the door and followed her in, dropping his bag by the couch.

"The hell is that?" Des stood in the kitchen entry holding a pair of beer bottles and staring at the bag.

"I call it wishful thinking, and before you tee off, the bus I was on was followed by the same car I tried to tell you about earlier."

She held out a bottle and Parker took it, gulping down half before breathing again.