“Maybe we have. And sometimes those types drive so straight drunk, you can’t pull them over. It’s like they’re so practiced at it.” Quietly she asked, “What’s he doing?”
“Pot. He’s growing pot out at his place. And god knows what else he’s doing out there. He’s a real . . . a real scuzzbucket.”
“How do you know this?”
“I work in a filthy bar. I know the dirt on everyone. And I overheard a conversation today. He wanted to give some girls some w**d, the underage girls. The old fool has too much money for a guy who supposedly only breeds dogs. He has big bills on him all the time, like a d**g dealer.”
She would need something more than this for a warrant, but she was sure she could find a legitimate reason to pay Downing a visit.
The door to the kitchen swung open and out stepped a teena
