Read Online Back Story by Renee Pawlish - Free Book Online Page B

liked her either, so it wasn’t any loss. I received a few “hellos” as I walked down the hallway to Chet’s open door. I leaned against the doorjamb and looked inside.
    His office was the opposite of Elmer’s. Even though Chet had been the Chief Investigator here for over ten years, the office felt as if he’d just moved in. A row of gray metal file cabinets sat along one wall, with nothing on top of them. Shelves with brackets were on another wall, but nothing was on them except for a few file folders and a couple of stacks of old newspapers. A small metal desk was positioned near a window that looked out to the west, the Rocky Mountains a gorgeous backdrop that Chet never saw because his desk faced the door. Not one painting hung on the wall, not a framed photo anywhere. Just pieces of paper and a few fountain pens strewn about the desk.
    “How are you, old boy?” Chet said when he saw me. He was sitting at the desk, a file open in front of him. His tenor voice was soft as a morning breeze. That, along with his easygoing demeanor, made it easy to underestimate him. I’d seen many people do it, and it cost them.
    I stepped into the room and closed the door. “What can you tell me about Floyd Powell?” I began.
    He sat back, then flicked a finger, indicating I should sit down. He leaned farther back and stared at me. I could see the bulge under his left arm where a gun was holstered. “You want the usual stuff?”
    I shook my head. “I got that already. The guy’s a saint.” I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t yank my chain, okay? I want what the public doesn’t know about him. About the mob.”
    Chet scratched his chin, then his lips formed a thin, hard line. “You heard any names?”
    “Anthony Cinisi.”
    His hand dropped to the desk. He tapped the surface for a moment. “How much do you know about Powell’s business?” he finally asked.
    I gave him the low-down that I’d gotten from Elmer. “Sound about right?”
    Chet nodded. “You got it. Some of the side businesses make him, or someone, a lot of money. Powell’s got his hand in a lot of things, even Laundromats, just like Capone did.”
    “I hadn’t heard that,” I said.
    “Yes.” Chet sighed. “Powell also has some cafeterias. That’s typical with the mob. They use legitimate businesses to make their dirty money clean.”
    “How do you know all this?”
    He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Chet didn’t get uncomfortable, so this must’ve been something big. “The FBI’s been coming around asking about him.”
    I whistled. “Why’d the FBI come to you?” I waved a hand. “Or to Masters and O’Reilly? Is one of your clients involved?”
    He nodded. “But I can’t tell you who.”
    “Naturally.” I deadpanned. “What can you say?”
    “For a man who’s supposed to be rich, Powell doesn’t have a lot of money.”
    “That’s what I keep hearing.”
    “We think he’s a front for the mob, taking their money in with his regular transactions. But he’s not keeping much of the money from the side businesses, and we wonder what he’s keeping from his construction business, too. It looks like a lot is going to the mob.”
    “So Powell’s hurting for dough.”
    “It sure looks that way.”
    “What about Powell’s charitable endeavors?”
    Chet shrugged. “He has to keep up appearances.” Now it was his turn to focus on me. “What’s this all about?”
    I knew Chet wouldn’t flap his jaw to anyone, so I told him everything.
    “So the insurance bigwigs have heard the mob rumors about Powell as well,” he said.
    I nodded. “You think the mob has some kind of art scam going on?”
    “I haven’t heard that,” he said, “but if there’s a lot of money involved, then I wouldn’t put it past them.”
    I stood up to go. “Have you ever heard the name John Milner?”
    Chet thought for a second. “No. Should I?”
    “Not necessarily,” I said as I put my hat on.
    “Another case?”
    “Yeah.” I told him about