Free Bitter Black Kiss by Michelle Clay Page B

part of town, and the pawn shop had already been robbed twice this year. Three other businesses here on Monroe Street, a liquor store, adult movies and a sandwich shop had been jacked a few weeks ago.
    Brody pushed away from the cool brick wall and sauntered across the street. Recognition clouded the shopkeeper’s puffy features, and he doubled his effort to get inside. Brody shouldered it open. The shop owner dropped his meal.
    “Why aren’t you happy to see me, Jimbo?”
    The man gave the door another push. When that didn’t work, he sprinted for the back room. Brody was on him in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Jim Evans by the back of the shirt. “Where are you going?”
    Brody shoved him against the counter and forced his arm behind his back. He didn’t care that the glass case bit into the idiot’s cheek. Jimbo was as crooked as they came and didn’t trust cops. That included Brody, especially since he had busted Jimbo a few times for fencing stolen goods.
    Brody wasn’t brimming with trust for the little weasel either. A few years back, he told police that Brody had provided him with items that had come up missing in the evidence room. It had been complete bullshit, of course. Still, no one knew how Jimbo had gotten the items, and he had refused to provide them with details.
    “I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear! I’ve kept my nose clean, just like you told me.”
    “Don’t give me the runaround, Jimbo.” After Nicole’s brush off, he was cranky, and he didn’t have time for games. The fear dancing behind Jimbo’s pig-like eyes fueled his fervor. He cocked his head and examined the guns in the case against the wall. “I need information. You help me out, and I’ll overlook the fact that half the stuff in the place is stolen goods.”
    Pinned to the counter face down, Jimbo had nowhere to go. He squirmed against Brody’s hold, his breaths labored. “Okay, okay. What 'd ya want?”
    “I want to see that gun.” Brody indicated a weapon beneath the counter. Its rubber grip was scuffed and scratched. Not something anyone would give a significant amount of money for.
    “You’re hurting me.” Jimbo’s eyes rolled, and he tried to get a better view of Brody. A puddle of drool formed beneath his cheek and ran across the smooth surface.
    “Where’d you get it?”
    “I don’t remember.”
    Brody jerked Jimbo’s arm up at a severe angle. It popped in the socket and forced a moan from its owner. Brody leaned closer so Jimbo could see the promise in his eyes. “You ever had a broken bone?”
    “Oh man, okay. Okay!” The struggle went out of the fat man. His body continued to tremble, but he stopped fighting. “Some guy brought it in last night. I didn’t get his name.”
    Now that he’d felt the pain behind Brody’s threat, Jimbo was more than eager to talk. Brody released him and stepped back, allowing the man to raise himself. His cheek was red and moist like his eyes.
    “A guy with buzzed hair and a gold front tooth?”
    Jimbo shuffled around the counter. “No. Some bum.”
    “Where’d a bum get a gun?”
     “Said he found it in a dumpster. I didn’t ask questions.”
    Brody didn’t let his disappointment show. He would have put money down that the late night visitor had been Tony.
    He used a pencil from the cup on the counter to lift the gun. He wasn’t surprised to find the serial numbers had been scratched off. The scent of gun cleaner wafted off the metal. Someone had taken their time cleaning it. The Smith and Wesson wouldn’t have any fingerprints whatsoever.
    “Did you wipe it down?”
    Jimbo drummed his fingers on the counter and cast a hopeful glance out the window. “No. I told you already. It came in last night before I closed.”
    Brody ignored Jimbo’s suspicious gaze. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialed Vasquez. He turned his attention back to Jimbo after he finished. “I want a description of this guy.”
    “First time I’ve ever laid eyes