CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When I got back to the office, I called Jaime Reyes.
“I need the registration information off a plate,” I said.
“And you think I’m with the DMV?” Reyes said.
“I figure you wanted to be, but you flunked the test and had to settle for the cops,” I said.
“Only way to flunk the California state civil service test is to die near the beginning of it,” Reyes said. “What’s the plate number?”
I read it to him off the screen on my digital camera. I even used the police phonetic alphabet to impress him a little.
“I’ll circle back,” he said. “Unless, you know, there is a homicide or something that distracts me.”
Reyes hung up. I sat at my desk and waited. Twenty minutes later, he called back.
“2019 Cadillac Escalade, white in color, current registration, no associated wants
