Bass had enough information to check the alibi. His feet were getting sore from standing.
Jake showed him to the door.
“You don’t work today?” Bass asked.
“I paint,” Jake replied in a sharp tone. “Can’t you tell?”
Bass left Jake’s studio and phoned Macky, giving him Edie’s current address. Macky was on the right side of the city to follow up on the new location.
As Bass sat in the car, he noticed that his phone had a message from Lucille, a reporter he knew from the local paper. He leaned back against the stiff vinyl seat, slouched down, and returned her call.
“Lucy, our information office has it all. That’s what they do. Read your newspaper.”
Lucille seemed to ignore the comment. “Did you get that case?”
“You mean the recycling case?”
“What? No, the baseball player overdosing.”
