Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Read Free

prettiest drawl.
    “And leave you alone with a junkie copper thief? I wouldn’t do that to Tyrone.”
    “You’re a copper thief, Tyrone?” I said as I crosshatched shadow lines to emphasize the composite’s cheekbones. “Now why would you want to spend your nights stripping air conditioner units when you could be doing something more productive?”
    “I don’t strip A/C units.” Tyrone tapped on the sketch pad. “His nose needs to be longer.”
    I grabbed my gum eraser and scrubbed at the end of the composite’s nose.
    “Air conditioners are not enough of a challenge for Tyrone here,” said Luke. “He likes to shimmy poles for his wire.”
    Tyrone smiled. “They call me the Flying Coderre.”
    “Were you up on a pole when you saw this guy?”
    Tyrone cut his eyes to Luke. “Allegedly. At the rest stop on the interstate near the Line Creek exit.”
    “What was the guy doing?”
    “Helping himself to a truck.”
    “You don’t need to know that information,” said Luke. “Just draw.”
    “I’m just curious. It’s not like I’m going to look for the guy.”
    Luke snorted, which was his way of saying “I don’t believe you.”
    We’ve had some past misunderstandings on the difference between “being helpful” and “interfering with the law.” Luke refused to acknowledge I can gain information as good as any cop just through my local gossip network. I call myself inquisitive and creative. He calls me nosy and harebrained. He forgets my interest for crime had been honed from growing up around a county sheriff. I never wanted to be a cop, though. Not unless I could bedazzle my uniform and stonewash the polyester out of the cotton/poly blend. And those cop shoes? Forget about it.
    “I don’t think the deputy trusts you.” Tyrone eyed my drawing. “The dude was wearing a track suit. Shiny blue or black. It was hard to tell the color in the dark.”
    I began sketching in a track suit collar. “I’ve given the deputy no reason not to trust me.”
    Luke snorted again.
    “Are you catching a cold or something?” I said. “Do you need a tissue?”
    “I need you to finish up and stop talking to the perp.”
    “Tyrone, let me ask you this,” I said. “If you had a girlfriend who was an artist, and you knew she had a painting deadline that involved a life study, and then found her innocently drawing this model, would you accuse her of cheating?”
    “Do not talk to her, Tyrone,” said Luke.
    “What’s a life study?” said Tyrone.
    “Drawing the human figure using a live model.”
    “Drawing somebody naked,” said Luke. “And not just anybody. Her ex-husband.”
    A knock sounded on the door and we glanced at the narrow inset window to see Uncle Will glaring at us. He twirled his finger in the wrap-it up sign and nodded at Luke.
    “Dammit,” said Luke. “How did you pull me into that?”
    “Todd’s not really my ex-husband,” I said quickly to Tyrone, needing to defend myself despite Uncle Will’s strange ban on gossip in the interrogation rooms. “Our Vegas wedding was annulled before it even began. Todd’s just a friend.”
    “Why don’t you draw naked chicks?” said Tyrone. “Then everybody’d be happy.”
    I glared at Tyrone for a millisecond. “The subject had to be male. And the boyfriend refused to participate even though he had the perfect physique for this specific painting.”
    “Finish your picture,” said Luke.
    “I don’t know about painting, but I do know something about cheating,” said Tyrone. “By the way, I’m pretty sure he had a necklace. Something shiny around his neck anyway. Unzip his jacket some.”
    “So what do you know about cheating?” I kept my eyes on the paper. “How far down his chest did the necklace go?”
    “My girl cheated on me. Not with her ex-husband though. She cheated on him, too,” said Tyrone. “The eyes still don’t look right.”
    “No more cheating talk,” said Luke with a glance at the two-way mirror. “You sure