I swear to god

I was driving home another taxi driver at the end of his shift. Let's call him Tack. He was in the backseat.

"Somebody smoked crack in this cab!"

"How do you know?" I turned around.

"There is crack on the backseat!" He was holding a piece of white matter between two fingers.

"Really?" I made a wincing face.

Tack put the white matter on the center divider between the two front seats. He got out his lighter.

"See, here," he said and tried to light the white matter with the lighter.

"How do you know?"

"Never mind," he said, "if it was crack, it would melt. It's just a crumb."

I continued making a wincing face. A few minutes passed.

"I swear to god, there is crack on the backseat!" Tack put another piece of white matter on the center divider between the two front seats. He tried to light it again. It didn't melt.

"Maybe not," Tack said. "You should vaccuum this car.

"If it really is crack, will the police be able to arrest me?"

"No. It's on the backseat. You have nothing to do with the backseat."

"Okay, good." I decided not to vaccuum the car. A few more minutes passed.

"I swear to god, Vera, somebody smoked crack in here!" Tack continued pulling pieces of white matter out of the backseat and putting them on the center divider between the front seats to show me. And to light them. I turned my head to the right and down to look at it. This one melted a little bit.

"See!" Tack yelled victoriously.

"Is it really crack?"

"I swear to god."

"Wouldn't the cab driver have known?"

"Maybe he smoked with them!"

"Maybe."

"You never know."

Maybe somebody had smoked crack in the backseat of the car I drove that day. Tack certainly seemed very excited about the possibility.