Now I looked around curiously while Detective Grimaldi slotted the car into an empty parking space and turned off the engine. A half dozen big rigs were parked under roofs, their engines turned off, like sleeping giants. Several more were rumbling, filling the air with noise and exhaust. Burly men in jeans and ball caps stood in clusters talking, while three women with big hair and small clothes had their heads together on the other side of the parking lot. Grimaldi headed for them. After a second, I scurried after. Not too long ago, I had watched Grimaldi walk into a bar where a table of men scattered like cockroaches when she passed. Rafe had told me it was because she smelled like cop. Obviously, that was a figure of speech, since as far as I could tell, she smelled more like Ivory soap and shampoo. But she had that flat-eyed cop look to her. The women saw her coming, and the youngest of the three looked like she was thinking of bolting. It took one of the others holding her back to keep her in place.
