“So why is his wife so scared?” I said.
“When’s the autopsy?” I asked him.
“So right now I’m just enjoying myself,” I said. “Maybe eventually I’ll find something to do, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll settle somewhere, maybe I won’t. But right now, I’m not looking to.”
“What do you make of the kicking?” Finlay asked him.
There were two cars parked in the yard. One was a big dark sedan, an English Bentley, maybe twenty years old, but it looked brand-new. There was a blond woman in it, who I guessed was Hubble’s wife, because he was on his way over to her like she was the sweetest sight he ever saw. The other car had Officer Roscoe in it.
“They’re broken, fat boy,” I said. “Give me yours.”