Patrick’s Day Murder 2 I laughed as we went down the street. “You’re potted,” Jack said, putting his arm around me. “Just having a good time.” “That’s Scotty.” He stopped at a car, unlocked the door, and I slid inside. When he was behind the wheel, he looked at the dash for a moment before turning the key. “Scotty and cars,” he said as he pulled out into the street. Down the block, Jack’s car was already waiting, and as we approached, Scotty waved and took off. It was a longer drive than we had expected, which, Jack assured me, was to be expected. “Does it drive like a dream?” I asked. “It’s nice.” “You sound a little restrained.” “The guy’s nuts. Nice nuts, but nuts.” “Give me the bottom line. Do you want one for your birthday or not?” “About twenty birthdays from now. How’s that?” “I’ll start saving. What’s he doing?” “Probably looking for the brake. C’mon, Scotty. Leave me with a car.” We followed Scotty blindly, sometimes waiting behind him at intersections while the two of them seemed to be deciding which way to turn.
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