I was threading my way back onto the I-10 freeway, pondering Holly’s possible whereabouts, when my phone rang. “Please let that be Becca with another lead!”
It wasn’t. I didn’t recognize the caller ID. “Jinx Ballou.”
“Yeah, this is Edie Miller. You put up posters in my neighborhood, looking for Artie Renzelli.”
Renzelli was one of Liberty Bail Bonds’s fugitives wanted for dealing dope. I’d put up flyers asking for leads—on my dime, no less, because Big Bobby could be a real tightwad. Bobby had reassigned the case to Fiddler, but screw them both.
“Thanks so much for calling. Edie, is it? So you saw Renzelli?”
“He and Li’l Mike were out partying with some skank last night a couple doors down. I’m pretty sure they still there.”
I had no idea who Li’l Mike was, nor did I care. But I took
