Read Online Double The Risk by Samantha Cayto - Free Book Online Page A

keep our mouths shut. The only reason I’m telling you is ’cause he’s already dead.”
    The woman’s eyes misted up a bit, and she swiped impatiently at the tears forming. Even the biggest of rats usually left someone behind who mourned their passing at least a little. He could certainly empathize with her.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am. Do you remember the address?” She did and Ronan took down the information, thanked her, and left with Diego in tow.
    “This doesn’t feel right,” Diego said, getting into the car. “From what I saw of his arrest record, the guy was neither bright, nor ambitious. A guy like that doesn’t score big. And if he had money, he wouldn’t be dressed like a homeless man.”
    “Maybe he blew through the cash and was living recently on the streets.”
    “His clothes would have been nicer if that were the case. It’s not adding up.”
    “No,” Ronan agreed. “It’s not.”
    The address the sister had given them was in West Roxbury, a south west part of Boston that had a more suburban feel to it. It was a far cry from the Boston neighborhood the O’Malleys grew up in, a definite step-up for a guy like Seamus. They arrived at a duplex that was modest and tired looking, as if no one cared enough to keep it up. As luck would have it, the landlord was home. The man gave their badges the once-over and wasn’t happy to hear they wanted to see where his tenant lived. He chomped on the disgusting remnants of a cigar while he let them in.
    “Seamus O’Malley, huh? Told me his name was Steven Cabot, but I knew that was a crock. I know a mick when I see one.” Looking at Diego, he added, “I can say that ’cause I’m Irish myself.”
    Ronan hid his irritation. They had bigger fish to fry, but Jesus, when would people get past these stupid slurs even of their own people? When Diego, who probably had been forced to develop a thick skin to epithets, gave the landlord a noncommittal look back, the man continued as he fished out his keys.
    “I can’t say I’m surprised he’s dead,” he said, still not taking the stogy out of his mouth. “He looked like every punk I grew up with in Southie. They all ended up at Walpole or the cemetery before hitting thirty.” He pushed the door open and ushered them in.
    “The state’s maximum security prison,” Ronan translated for Diego’s benefit.
    The place hadn’t been cleaned in many months, but that appeared to be by design because there were pizza boxes and beer bottles lying around the living room, as if recently left there.
    “The guy was a pig as you can see. But he paid his rent on time and in cash.” The man grinned around the cigar. “Of course I declared every cent to the IRS.”
    “Of course.” Ronan stepped farther into the home and looked around. Diego headed back to the kitchen. “Did he have any visitors that you know of, a girlfriend maybe?”
    “He wasn’t what you’d call a social kind of guy. I didn’t see anyone hanging around, and he didn’t date that I could tell. Unless you count working girls, that is. He had one or two of them over a month.”
    “I see. Well, thank you, Mr. Ahearn, we’ll let ourselves out, and we’ll have some uniforms come and cordon this apartment off until we’re sure we’ve collected any evidence.”
    “Fuck, knew you’d say that. I watch all the Law and Order shows. I know how this works. I’ll be lucky to rent it again by this fall.”
    The landlord left with a shake of his head.
    As Diego was already in the back of the apartment, Ronan tackled the living room. There wasn’t much to see, no personal mementos unless one counted the porn collection of DVDs. He rifled through the pile sitting on a built-in bookshelf, feeling dirty by merely touching the boxes. O’Malley’s taste had been extreme, although none of them appeared to involve underage actors. That was something. Most if not all of them weren’t properly closed which struck him as odd. If O’Malley was that sloppy, why