Free Asking For Trouble by Simon Wood Page B

examining the car’s rear with some well-practiced flashlight work. Todd powered down the window.
    “Is this your vehicle, sir?”
    “No, I’m just delivering it.”
    “Where to?”
    “Ruskin’s in Dallas. It’s a dealership.”
    “And where’s it coming from?”
    Todd didn’t have an answer. He hadn’t thought to check what the registration documentation said. Sweat appeared on his forehead and under his arms. “Another dealership,” he ventured.
    “Then where are your dealership tags?”
    “I don’t know. It’s my first job. They didn’t say anything, and I didn’t know I needed them.”
    The trooper didn’t look impressed. “Well, you do.”
    “Oh.” Todd tried to sound as innocent as he could.
    “License and registration, please, sir.”
    Todd leaned across and popped the glove box open. His breath caught in his throat when a nickel-plated .357 fell out.
    “Don’t move a muscle, son,” the trooper said and pressed his gun into the back of Todd’s head. Gun drawn, the trooper’s partner opened the passenger door and snatched up the fallen .357. “Nice and easy now, climb out of the vehicle.”
    Todd did as he was told and, without being asked, interlaced his fingers behind his head. The trooper escorted him to the front of the Lexus and cuffed him, while the trooper’s partner searched the car. A couple of passing vehicles slowed to get a better look at the theatrics.
    “Why are you carrying a concealed weapon?”
    “I didn’t know I was.”
    “Do you have a license for the weapon?”
    “Lyle,” the trooper’s partner called. “You’d better take a look at this.”
    Trooper Lyle scowled at Todd. Todd shrugged. The trooper snatched Todd’s bicep and marched him over to the passenger side of the car. Lyle’s partner had the door panel in his hands. Taped to the inside were clear packets filled with a white powder. No one needed to explain what it was.
    “The panel was loose. It fell off when I touched it.”
    “Taking it to a dealership, were you?” Lyle said with disgust.
    “I don’t think this is all of it,” Lyle’s partner said. “This backseat is padded, but I wouldn’t want to sit on it.” He banged the seat with his fist. His hand left no indentation.
    “You’ve got some explaining to do,” Lyle said.
    A cell phone rang. The troopers looked at each other and shook their heads.
    “Have you got a cell phone, buddy?” Lyle’s partner asked.
    Todd shook his head.
    “It’s coming from there.” Lyle pointed at the trunk.
    Lyle tugged Todd back from the car. Lyle’s partner chased around to the rear of the Lexus and popped the trunk. “You’d better take a look at this,” he said.
    Lyle glared at Todd. A hot sweat broke out over him as Lyle dragged him to the trunk.
    Shrink-wrapped in plastic was the contorted shape of a man. The suffocating plastic sucked into his open, screaming mouth, and a cell phone blinked, sticking out of his shirt pocket. Todd recognized the dead man from his picture in the newspaper. He was the Porsche owner the cops had picked up.
    Todd sighed. He didn’t have to ask who would be on the other end of the phone. The small man was at the root of this. He’d set him up. Stealing the Jag must have just been a way to keep Todd busy and buy him time to take care of the Porsche owner after he bailed him out. The copswould know the Porsche owner was linked to the small man, and the small man couldn’t have a loose end like that. He needed someone to do the trimming, so why not let Todd be his scissors?
    “Son,” Lyle said without a hint of pleasure, “you are royally screwed.”

DINNER FOR TOBY
    “I ’m going to make dinner for Toby,” Barnett announced to Mike.
    “What, Corn Flakes on toast?” Mike joked.
    “No, I can cook. Like He-Man, I have the power.”
    Mike’s smile faded. He checked over his shoulder and saw Toby sitting at a table by himself. Toby always sat alone during breaks between lectures. He clutched a can of Coke