“Do you doubt it?” I raised an eyebrow.
“You are a bad woman!” He looked like he was going to start crying.
“One hundred percent pure evil feminist of the worst kind. If you spend half an hour more with me, you may even become infected and stop being scared of confident women. Now tell me why the hell you were following David!”
“Is feminism really infectious?” Marky/Troubelmakr asked the men again.
“You bet, Marky. But it’s not a bad thing,” Gary Firth said, and I may have beamed at him in awe. And swooned.
It’s just reassuring when some of your early crushes become adorable and sexy fifty-something-year-olds like him, Keanu Reeves, or Winona Ryder.
“Henry wanted to know about the journo’s movements before the trial,” Marky/Troubelmakr finally said. He looked unconvinced by Gary’s words, but he was talking nonetheless. “See if he could use some garbage against him.”
“Garbage?” David protested. He would only play the objective observer who was merely taking notes to a point. “What garbage?”
“He was hoping for something big like corruption or links to a gang, since you are, you know, Latino and all that. I kept telling him you were way too boring for any of that.” Marky/Troubelmakr’s smile was creepy, and I was breathing deeply to prevent myself from killing the bigoted prowler. “You’re a total snoozefest and the most predictable and dull person I’ve ever watched. I didn’t even see you litter or go over the speed limit.”
“Thanks, I guess,” David said.
“Man, I totally missed that you were boning the mayor’s daughter. Dashing would have liked to know that.” Marky/Troubelmakr was apparently feeling more loquacious now that he’d started telling us what we wanted to know. “He’d have used that as ammo against you.”
While I was happy that Dashing Henry had been unsuccessful in his attempt to find something damaging against David, and I was relieved that he was no longer able to hurt him, that last statement from the Troubelmakr made me shiver. David and I had been careful and discreet, but I still didn’t like the idea that whatever we had could be used against him.
“What happened the night of Henry’s death? Were you also following me?” David asked.
“Yes. I had been learning your schedule and routine the past few days. I followed you until you got home a bit after nine that night.”
“What did you do next?”
“I called Henry and told him you were there.”
“Had he asked you to do that?” David had shamelessly hijacked my interrogation. But, in his defense, the man-child seemed to respond better to men than women. And Gary looked happy not to play a starring role in the questioning anymore.
“Yes.” The Troubelmakr looked at me with fear.
“What happened then?”
“I was hanging out on the street, right across from the building’s entrance. Five minutes later, I saw Dashing’s Mercedes-Benz pulling onto the parking ramp.”
“How do you know it was his car? Did you see him driving it?” asked David.
“He has an AMG G63 in bronze,” Marky/Troubelmakr said.
David frowned. “A what?”
“A very big, very expensive, somewhat distinct car,” I translated, and I spelled the name of the model so David could jot that down.
“He couldn’t have been happy with the Prius tailgating him,” Marky/Troubelmakr added.
“What Prius?” David and I asked in unison, possibly too eagerly.
“A Prius tailing Dashing’s car, way too close for my liking—and I’m sure Dashing wasn’t feeling it either. That bronze paint scratches easily, you know. The Prius followed Dashing right into your building,” Marky explained.
David looked at me then back to Marky. “Did you see who was driving it?”
“Dunno. A dude?”
“Age? Race? Ethnicity? Hair color? Any other remarkable characteristics?”
