Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (love books to read .TXT) 📖

“Yeah, he wrote off his hundred grand, or figured it was a fair price to pay to get the Italian Mob off his turf. What I am not clear about is whether he knew about Harrison.”

I nodded. “He indicated as much when we talked to him at the Shamrock, and it was him who insisted he should be there tonight.”

“Right, his payback to you for revealing Father O’Neil’s scam to him, but what I don’t get is how he could have known about Harrison.”

Maybe the pretty paramedic had given me a painkiller. The pain was subsiding and I was getting an agreeable floating sensation, like my body was drifting away from me. I smiled.

“Remember when we were hunting for Harragan? The Nelson Hernandez case? The original investigating officer in that case put us onto Special Agent Harrison as a way of contacting Pro, Vincenzo’s hit man, remember?”

“Of course, he was in witness protection.”

“Right. Pro and Mick were tight, because Mick facilitated the Jersey Mob’s operations in the Bronx. Harrison was Pro and Vincenzo’s man in the Bureau.”

“Okay, I get all that, but…”

“Well, Dehan, Mick was also Hagan’s facilitator, probably more so than anybody else’s, because they were both Irish. Mick would have bragged to Hagan about his man in the Bureau. Hagan would have known all about him.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“So he handed us Vincenzo and his man in the FBI, as an act of enlightened self-interest. He pays me back and at the same time gets the Italians out of his manor.”

We pulled up outside the precinct and she killed the engine. She sat looking at me like an angry mother. I tried not to snicker.

“I think she gave you morphine.”

“You should always have some in your kitchen cupboard.”

“You’re in no state to conduct an interrogation, Stone.”

I held up two fingers. “Just one question, Dehan, then you can take me home and mother me. But if ever you have trusted my judgment, trust it now.”

She got out and slammed the door, then helped me out and we walked together to the station house.

Vincenzo was in interrogation room six. When Dehan and I walked in, he pointed at me like his finger was a revolver and I half expected him to say, ‘Bang! Bang!’ Instead, he said, “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to you until my lawyer gets here. Murder! Murder of a Bishop! Attempted murder! I am going to have your job, Stone! I am going to have your fuckin’ ass!”

I sat down and regarded him with a feeling of peace and goodwill that was entirely chemical.

“I can’t blame you for the way you feel, Alvaro. Anyone in your position would feel the same, I am sure.”

Dehan put her hand to her brow and discreetly covered her eyes. I managed to repress an inappropriate chuckle. It may even have been a giggle. I knew I had a very few minutes before I had to go somewhere and sleep.

“Just tell me something, Alvaro, because in the morning I am going to be thinking in terms of whether I can cut you a deal. I couldn’t see clearly, was it you who fired the shot that killed the officer, or was it Paul Harrison?”

“It was Paul. I didn’t fire a shot. It was Paul.”

“Thank you.” I stood. “I just wanted to confirm that Paul Harrison was there.” I turned to the uniform by the door. “You can put him in the cell now.”

He scowled at me as we left.

My legs were turning into anacondas as Dehan helped me down the stairs and into my car. As she climbed in next to me, I said, “Take me home, baby.” And after that, darkness enfolded me.

Twenty-SEVEN

The sun was bright, too bright. My shoulder hurt, but I no longer felt high, or like giggling. Good smells of coffee and bacon, now inextricably linked with Dehan for all time, came to me from the kitchen. I was on the sofa, dressed. I raised myself on my good elbow, which meant I was uncomfortably facing the back of the sofa.

“What time is it?”

“Time you got up and had a doctor look at your dressing.”

“You done the first aid course?”

A sigh audible over the sizzling of bacon. “Yes…”

“You can do it. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

I swung my legs off the sofa and suffered in silence for a few seconds. When the pain subsided, I said, “We need to interrogate Vincenzo. And Singh is coming at three.”

She carried the pan to the table and started putting bacon on the plates.

“You’ll interrogate, but first you’ll eat. The captain called.”

I stood. “Did they find Harrison?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Dammit!”

“But now the Bureau is hunting for him nationwide. They are embarrassed.”

“Damn right. They should be.”

I walked gingerly to the kitchen and sat. I tried removing my right arm from the sling but my shoulder told me that was a bad idea by setting fire to my arm. I made small gasping noises. Dehan put two eggs on my plate, then sat opposite and took my plate away from me. I watched her cut my toast, my eggs and my bacon into small, manageable pieces, then she put the plate in front of me again and put my fork in my left hand.

“Can you manage or you want me to feed you?”

“I can manage.”

She started to tuck in with her usual enthusiasm and vigor. “So explain something to me.”

“What?”

“Why the big to-do last night? You had to ask Vincenzo one question! Just one question! Who shot the cop, him or Harrison? We both saw clear as daylight who shot the cop.”

“Oh, that.”

“What? Oh that? What?”

“Did you see Paul Harrison at any point?”

“No, but I