THE MAN STANDING ON the cracked concrete of his driveway narrowed suspicious brown eyes on Edric. “Who did you say you were?”
“Edric Honeybun. I’m a consultant with the Indianapolis Police. We’re looking into the murders of the four police officers on Sunday.”
The man frowned, the hose in his hand drooping forgotten as water saturated his work boots. “I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”
Alf strode up, slipping his cell into the pocket of his slacks. “Mr. Carter.” He offered the man his hand, a tight smile on his face. “I’m Alfric Honeybun. We were hoping to ask you a few questions.”
The man blinked and looked down at his shoes, seeming to remember he was rinsing suds off his rusty blue Chevy sedan. “I thought his name was Honeybun.” He pointed toward Edric with his hose hand and
