The younger detective’s errand was to walk to the corner to buy pineapple vape cartridges for her boyfriend’s birthday. She was accosted by a person on horseback, which was not something that happened every day.
She crossed the street, to the shabby park across from the station, and met the horse on the corner.
“Were you shouting for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I like your whole look. That’s not what I’m here to say.”
This kid was one to talk. She had a whole look herself: chartreuse tailcoat, green velvet hunting cap, jodhpurs, boots, everything in the horse catalog. She looked at home and in control in the saddle, but also as if a gentle breeze might blow her away. The detective would have described her to a sketch artist as what? Wispy?
“What can I do for you?”
“I have to talk fast, this horse is borrowed. My dad is the stable hand at the Huggins place. I used to hang out with Xavier all the time. He was nice to talk to.”
“The old man.”
“Yes, ma’am, Xavier Flince. I have information concerning his death.”