Read Online Don't Lose Her by Jonathon King - Free Book Online Page B

directly into his private office.
    Milsap’s desk was second-rate, faux oak, and devoid of any files, a computer, or even pretend photos of family or friends. He probably had a law degree from some innocuous university, but it was nowhere in sight. There was a wall of bookcases behind him, but they looked so regimented and obviously untouched that I was reminded of a book dealer I knew who could order books by the yard in whatever color matched your wallpaper just to supply ambience. The framed art on the other walls were repeats of those in reception, and I actually had to give Johnny credit for not having black velvet paintings of Elvis up there.
    I sat down in front of his desk and Johnny took up his post behind it.
    â€œPlease have a seat, Mr. Freeman,” he said with only the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. “What can I do for you?”
    Elbows on the armrests of my chair, I folded my hands in front of me, looked unblinking into the attorney’s face, and stifled my urge to strangle the man. He must have read my eyes.
    â€œFirst,” he said, clearing his throat, “I would like to offer my condolences to your employer over this terrible atrocity involving Judge Manchester. It’s horrific, unconscionable.”
    News of the kidnapping of a federal judge would already have been flashed on CNN and rippled through the legal community.
    Milsap knew that as Billy’s investigator I would be focused on nothing else. But being coy at such a time was not below him. Again, I held my tongue and my homicidal urges in check and instead reached into my sports coat pockets and stacked ten thousand dollars in cash on Milsap’s desk.
    â€œI’m paying for information, Johnny,” I said. “You have more connections to drug distributors than any lawyer in South Florida, and it is a possibility that Mrs. Manchester’s kidnapping may be the work of minions from the Colombian cocaine pipeline. I’m asking you to ask around, to listen carefully to the scuttlebutt among your clients. If you hear something useful and pass it along, there will be more of this coming.”
    Now, it was Milsap’s turn to be silent. He looked from my eyes to the money. It talks. Especially when it’s sitting stacked up in front of a man like him.
    Milsap and I had crossed paths a couple of times in the past, once when he was representing a Delaware investment group that was buying up the life insurance policies of elderly black women. Milsap acted as a go-between who would pass those names on to a white-collar degenerate who then paid a mentally challenged drug addict to smother the women if they began to outlive the actuarial profit of those policies.
    Through Billy, I was put onto the case. When the shitstorm came down, Milsap claimed he never knew where the names were going, and never recognized them when they started showing up on the obit pages.
    â€œIt was a fiduciary responsibility on my part,” he told detectives who started sorting out the story after the killer of the women died at Sherry’s hand. “I had no idea.”
    Now, I was actively putting myself in bed with him. The sour taste in my mouth was starting to build with each second he delayed a reaction.
    â€œYou understand,” he finally said, nodding at the cash. “This retainer would be considered the formation of an attorney-client relationship, Mr. Freeman. Thus any conversation between you and me would be considered privileged. Any information that I might access and discuss with you would, I hope, be considered as such.”
    â€œBe as slick as you need to be, Johnny. You get me something that gets us closer to the scum who took Diane Manchester, I pay you. I don’t need names. I don’t need affidavits. I need to be pointed in the right direction.”
    Again, Milsap looked at me and then at the pile of bills.
    â€œI know Judge Manchester was working on the extradition case for Juan