I guess everybody does, including their own wives, but when the "Friday and Gannon" wannabe's woke me up this morning, I was less than accommodating.
"Where were you two nights ago?" Friday asked. "Around five a.m.?"
"At a friend's house."
Friday did all the talking. Gannon was taking notes. I kept expecting one of them to say, "It's my job," or "This all started with one marijuana cigarette."
"What's your friend's name?"
"Jane."
"Jane what?"
"MacManus," I said, more than a little pissed-off. "What's going on? If this has anything to do with the Mocha Daze break-in, you two are barking up the wrong tree. I didn't do it. Hugo's my friend, man. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him."
"Mr. Ciccarelli says you've got a little drug problem. He says your dealer's been calling you at his shop, threatening you, demanding money."
"I didn't do anything. I was nowhere near the place."
"Then it's alright if we look around?"
"No."
"Why not? If you haven't done anything, then let us take a quick look around."
"Because, one: my roommate isn't here and I don't think it's a good idea to let you ransack her place. Two: I don't see a search warrant in your hand. Three: I don't like you very much.
I could see in their eyes that they wanted to kick my ass for that one. I thought Friday's head was going to explode. Gannon closed his note book and walked over to me.
"Okay, friend," Gannon said. "You wanna play by the book? We'll play by the book. Maybe you didn't break in to that fag's coffee shop, but I'm willing to bet you've got done enough crap for more than a chapter for a rap sheet. I'm going to find out where you've been and what you've done and then, we'll play by-the book, and I'll nail your ass to the wall. You see, I don't like you, either."
