said eventually, “and his daddy was some kind of Eastern European gangster. What can I say? Frankie is the product of a mixed marriage and a broken home. You r basic spoiled little rich kid who’s more than a little partial to vodka.” Okay, so maybe he knew more about Frankie than he thought he did. “Why?”
“The license plate is registered to Frankie’s company,” said Marty.
“Oh yeah?” Now that was interesting. Connell sat himself up a little straighter. “So why is Frankie loaning out his car to crooked cops?”
“Your guess is as good as mine but I don’t reckon he’ll be doing it out of the goodness of his heart, do you?”
Conne ll wondered at the connection. Couldn’t quite fit Gibbons and Scott in the same picture as Frankie ‘I’m so wonderful’ Vasin. Gibbons was too fat, Scott was too ugly, and Frankie liked to surround himself with beautiful people. “Why would they need to use Frankie’s car, anyway? What’s wrong with taking one from the pool?” And why were they driving around in Frankie’s car when they were still on duty. It didn’t fit unless they’d specifically delayed answering the call about the disappearance of Molly Brown until they were off duty. If that was the case, then he had to wonder why.
“Maybe they didn’t want questions asked about the mileage,” replied Marty.
“Or they didn’t want to leave incriminating evidence in the trunk ...” He needed to get a look at that car. “Gibbons and Scott took time out this afternoon to warn me off,” said Connell, “which makes me think I may be stepping on some toes.”
“You okay, Tommy?” Marty had that ‘Oh no not again’ tone, and Connell felt the need to reassure him.
“Sure, Marty, just a little shocked at the turn of events.” He rubbed at his shoulder which had come out in sympathy with his scorched chest and struggled to his feet. “The thing is, Marty, the y seemed to know a lot about me and Joe and Lizzie. How would they know that kind of stuff? Why would they want to know it?”
“You’ve had your head in the sand for a while, Tommy. People know what happened to you, especially cops, and the fact you threw in your badge is bound to make some folk wonder.”
“Wonder about what?”
“About which side you’re on, Tommy.”
Connell scowled. He’d had this the entire time he’d been on the force, this uncertainty about how close he trod the line. He hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now.
“Does anyone actually care which side I’m on?”
Marty smiled. “Well, sure, especially those who are concerned that you’re not on theirs.”
“Gibbons and Scott?”
“For starters.”
“You think I’m on to something?”
“I think you know you are. So what’s the plan, Tommy? You going to do as you’re told and lay off, or do as you please and keep sniffing around?”
Connell pulled back the rug with his good arm and tugged up the loose board. “I don’t know, Marty, but I’m being paid to keep sniffing.” He pulled out the papers and scanned through them. “I reckon I might wrinkle my nose on the way home, just in case I happen to pick up the scent of something rotten.”
“And the kid?”
Connell checked his watch again. “I think I have an idea where she might be hanging out. I’m going to swing back that way first.”
“Seems to me like you’re doing a lot of swinging, Tommy. You want to make sure the rope doesn’t snap.”
Connell smiled and shook his head. “Always the optimist.”
“No, Tommy, always the realist. You need some help?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
Marty laughed. “Probably both, but in this instance it’s a question. Do you want me to help you?”
Connell sin gled out a letter from the pile and let the others fall to the ground. It was from a loan company, an invitation to borrow probably more than the family could earn in a lifetime. It was partly completed, with full names, dates of birth and social
“The license plate is registered to Frankie’s company,” said Marty.
“Oh yeah?” Now that was interesting. Connell sat himself up a little straighter. “So why is Frankie loaning out his car to crooked cops?”
“Your guess is as good as mine but I don’t reckon he’ll be doing it out of the goodness of his heart, do you?”
Conne ll wondered at the connection. Couldn’t quite fit Gibbons and Scott in the same picture as Frankie ‘I’m so wonderful’ Vasin. Gibbons was too fat, Scott was too ugly, and Frankie liked to surround himself with beautiful people. “Why would they need to use Frankie’s car, anyway? What’s wrong with taking one from the pool?” And why were they driving around in Frankie’s car when they were still on duty. It didn’t fit unless they’d specifically delayed answering the call about the disappearance of Molly Brown until they were off duty. If that was the case, then he had to wonder why.
“Maybe they didn’t want questions asked about the mileage,” replied Marty.
“Or they didn’t want to leave incriminating evidence in the trunk ...” He needed to get a look at that car. “Gibbons and Scott took time out this afternoon to warn me off,” said Connell, “which makes me think I may be stepping on some toes.”
“You okay, Tommy?” Marty had that ‘Oh no not again’ tone, and Connell felt the need to reassure him.
“Sure, Marty, just a little shocked at the turn of events.” He rubbed at his shoulder which had come out in sympathy with his scorched chest and struggled to his feet. “The thing is, Marty, the y seemed to know a lot about me and Joe and Lizzie. How would they know that kind of stuff? Why would they want to know it?”
“You’ve had your head in the sand for a while, Tommy. People know what happened to you, especially cops, and the fact you threw in your badge is bound to make some folk wonder.”
“Wonder about what?”
“About which side you’re on, Tommy.”
Connell scowled. He’d had this the entire time he’d been on the force, this uncertainty about how close he trod the line. He hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now.
“Does anyone actually care which side I’m on?”
Marty smiled. “Well, sure, especially those who are concerned that you’re not on theirs.”
“Gibbons and Scott?”
“For starters.”
“You think I’m on to something?”
“I think you know you are. So what’s the plan, Tommy? You going to do as you’re told and lay off, or do as you please and keep sniffing around?”
Connell pulled back the rug with his good arm and tugged up the loose board. “I don’t know, Marty, but I’m being paid to keep sniffing.” He pulled out the papers and scanned through them. “I reckon I might wrinkle my nose on the way home, just in case I happen to pick up the scent of something rotten.”
“And the kid?”
Connell checked his watch again. “I think I have an idea where she might be hanging out. I’m going to swing back that way first.”
“Seems to me like you’re doing a lot of swinging, Tommy. You want to make sure the rope doesn’t snap.”
Connell smiled and shook his head. “Always the optimist.”
“No, Tommy, always the realist. You need some help?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
Marty laughed. “Probably both, but in this instance it’s a question. Do you want me to help you?”
Connell sin gled out a letter from the pile and let the others fall to the ground. It was from a loan company, an invitation to borrow probably more than the family could earn in a lifetime. It was partly completed, with full names, dates of birth and social
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