Read Online On the Street Where You Die (Stanley Bentworth mysteries Book 1) by Al Stevens - Free Book Online Page B

related.
    “Stan, you know the drill. It’s murder. P.I. to client privilege doesn’t work here.”
    “I know,” I said. Bill didn’t need to tell me how it works. It hadn’t been that long ago that I was on his side of the table.
    “You know something, you got to tell me,” he said. “I don’t want to have to file an obstruction charge against you.”
    “I don’t want you to.”
    “Some judge will put your sorry ass in the clink with a contempt violation if you dummy up. And I’m the only one on my side who’ll give a shit what happens to you.”
    “Understood. I’ll spill. But can you cut me a little slack until I talk to Overbee? He isn’t going anywhere, and the vic won’t get any deader.”
    “I guess I can do that since it’s you. But don’t tell the Lieutenant. He doesn’t love you like I do.”
    “Thanks. What can you tell me about the case?”
    “A neighbor found the body late this morning in the street a couple doors from his house. He had a bullet in his brain. Small caliber, from the front between his eyes, no GSR, no exit wound. His nose had been recently rearranged.”
    “Which way from his house?” I was thinking about Marsha Sproles and a jealous husband.
    “North.”
    Bingo! He had gotten bumped in front of his girl friend’s house. I figured I’d hang onto that piece of knowledge until it could help.
    “Who was the neighbor who found him?”
    He looked at his notepad. “Marsha Sproles.”
    The girlfriend found the body. I wondered whether there was any significance to that.
    “Did the vic have any connection with the mob?”
    “He worked witness protection before he retired.”
    “Well, that’s sure a connection. You need to look into all his cases from before he retired.”
    “I got somebody on that. The feds are cooperating. Up to a point. For once, they don’t want jurisdiction. But they’re not willing to open their books.”
    “Not even for one of their own?”
    “Retired. Second-class citizen. It’s our case.”
    “Interesting. Anyway, what makes you like a renowned financier more than the mob?”
    “The vic’s wife. One night when Overbee was mentioned on the news, Vitole told her they were about to score big on him, something about a better retirement plan.”
    “Score how?”
    “She didn’t know.”
    “That’s not much for an arrest warrant.”
    “The judge saw it our way. Overbee can’t account for his whereabouts, so no alibi; a witness saw his car at the vic’s house early this morning; he has a wall full of guns hanging in his study; and he owns a private jet, making him a flight risk.”
    “Still sounds circumstantial to me. Weak. How’d the witness know it was Overbee’s car?”
    “She didn’t. We made the connection.”
    “How?”
    “Christ, Stan. It’s a fucking white Rolls Royce. How many of them you see around here?”
    “Point taken. Still not on solid ground, though.”
    Penrod nodded. The case was shaky and he knew it. “The M.E. will get the bullet out of the vic’s noggin, and the lab can see if it matches one of Overbee’s guns. We confiscated all the small caliber pieces. I’m betting we get a match.”
    “I’m betting you don’t.” Buford was too smart to use a personal gun and then keep it. If he shot Vitole, the gun was at the bottom of the river.
    “ That, and a confession ought to close it,” Penrod said.
    “Good luck on that,” I said.
    “Well, I’m pretty good in the room.”
    He was. The “room” was what we called homicide’s interrogation room. Many cases were closed in the room.
    “But you don’t know Overbee,” I said. “Hard case. If he did it, he won’t give it up. Did you meet his wife?”
    “Yes. Wow.” He whistled a quiet low tone.
    “Uh huh. And his daughter?”
    “Didn’t know he had one. What’s she like?”
    “Not wow. But devoted to Daddy.”
    “The wife didn’t mention her.”
    I gave an all-knowing shrug. Bill responded in kind.
    “From what I’ve seen,” I said,