33
“THIS IS IT. THIS IS where I saw him,” Mr. Crowley sing-songed from the backseat of the Crown Vic.
Jimenez and Reese were getting sick of his babbling and smell, but he was the only person claiming to have seen Ray Cobb in the last twelve hours. They pulled the car up in front of the abandoned house on Crenshaw.
“You followed them here?” Jimenez asked, still not believing the rail-thin homeless man. He didn’t seem like the type who would be acting as a good citizen with no reason.
“The suspicious one is keen, but assumes too much,” Mr. Crowley said, slipping back into his fortune teller voice, “It’s a place out of the rain, but when I came to claim it, I found it occupied.”
“You’re sure it was Cobb?” Reese asked.
“Hair cut and beard gone, but his filthy life still shines on,” Mr.
