I was on my back doing crunches behind my desk when the cell rang. Not missing a beat, I reached inside my pocket, removed the phone and flipped it open.
“Knighthorse.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” said Sherbet.
“I’m doing crunches.”
“Crunches?”
“It’s not easy being beautiful.”
He ignored me. “We got the search warrant.”
I stopped crunching, lay flat on the floor. “Go on.”
“Jarred’s prints were all over that goddamn gas cap, not to mention along the center console.”
“Where the cell phone might have been located.”
“Exactly.”
“So when are you going in?” I asked.
“Tonight, when he gets home. He needs to be there for the search to be valid.”
“Of course.”
“But you knew that,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Sorry. I forget some private dicks know their shit.”
“This one does.”
He was quiet. I waited. I could hear him breathing.
“And Knighthorse?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell me we won’t find your prints at the condo.”
“You won’t find my prints at the condo.”
“Good. Have you been there?”
“In passing.”
Sherbet paused. If I listened closely enough I could hear his mustache lifting and falling with each breath. “In your expert opinion, Knighthorse, is there anywhere in particular we should look once we get there?”
“If I were conducting the search, I would focus on the garage. Of course, that’s just my expert opinion.”
“Of course,” he said. “Anything else?”
“I figure if he siphoned the gas, he would need a hose, and if he stole the water jugs, he would need somewhere to stash them.”
“Like a bag?”
“Would be my guess.”