What in the goddamn hell is he doing here? Abler wonders.
He can’t be sure, but he thinks he’s just seen the big guy from the community meeting crossing the parking lot, from the direction where his car is parked, no less. He almost missed him, so locked was he onto Stacie and her prancing across the lot and getting into a red Mazda 6. Just like a young filly to drive too much car for her salary. Fine by me, though, he thinks. With a flashy car like that parked out front, there’ll be no missing whether she’s home or not in a little while.
“You’re not breaking out early on me, are ya, Hardy?” It’s Kenny, coat on, computer bag in hand. He’s the one breaking out early.
“Nope, just getting some fresh air before I finish up.”
“That’s good. We’re gonna need all those audits done before the last week of the month.”
“You’ll–”
“I’ll have ’em. I know. Just reminding you.” Kenny continues on. “Keep up the good work,” he calls back.
“I will.”
I should do a piece of work on you …
He stares after Kenny’s departing back, then stands there for another moment scanning the lot, watching Stacie drive away and trying to figure out where the big guy went. That’s when he sees a maroon Olds Toronado crossing the other way on the street past the exit. It has to be him. He breaks into a run toward the corner of the parking lot and the Olds gets stuck at the light, and he’s able to make out a license plate number. There are databases that cross-list owners and addresses with plate numbers. There are ways. He’ll soon know who the big guy is and where he lives. The projects are just falling into his lap right now.