Read Online Richard Montanari by The Echo Man - Free Book Online Page B

you think?
        Byrne
butterflied a hand, smiled. Eh.
        Colleen
gave him a pretty good shot on the upper arm.
        Byrne
reached into his pocket, handed Colleen the check that was discreetly contained
in a small envelope. Colleen spirited it away in her purse.
        'Thanks,
Dad. A couple of weeks, tops.'
        Byrne
waved another hand. 'How many times have I told you that you don't have to pay
me back?'
        'And
yet I will.'
        Byrne
glanced at Laurent, then back. 'Can I ask you something?' he signed. He had
learned to sign when Colleen was about seven and had taken to it surprisingly
well, considering what a lousy student he had been in school. As Colleen got
older and a lot of their communication became nonverbal, relying on body
language and expression, he stopped studying. He could hold his own, but found
himself completely lost around two or more deaf people blazing away.
        'Sure,'
Colleen signed. 'What is it?'
        'Are
you in love with this guy?'
         Colleen
gave him the look. Her mother's look. The one that said you just encountered a
wall, and if you have any thoughts or dreams or hopes of getting over it you
better have a ladder, a rope, and rappeling hooks .
        She
touched his cheek, and the battle was over. 'I'm in love with you,' she
signed.
        How did
she manage to do this? Her mother had done the same thing to him two decades
earlier. In his time on the job he had been shot on two different occasions.
The impact of those two incidents was nothing compared to a single look from
his ex-wife or daughter.
        'Why
don't you just ask me the question you're dying to ask?' she signed.
        Byrne
did his best to look confused. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
        Colleen
rolled her eyes. 'I'll just go ahead and answer the question anyway. The one you
were not going to ask me.'
        Byrne
shrugged. Whatever.
        'No,
we're not staying in the same room, Dad. Okay? Laurent's aunt has a big house
in Stanton Park, and there are a million extra bedrooms. That's where I'll be
sleeping. Locks on the door, guard dogs around the bed, honor and virtue
intact.'
        Byrne
smiled.
        Suddenly,
the world was once again a wonderful place.
     
        Byrne
stopped at the Starbuck's on Walnut Street. As he was paying, his cellphone
vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, checked the screen. It was a text
message from Michael Drummond, the assistant district attorney handling the
Eduardo Robles grand jury investigation.
         Where
are you ?
        Byrne
texted Drummond his location. A few seconds later he received a reply.
         Meet
me at Marathon .
     
        Ten
minutes later Byrne stood in front of the restaurant at 18th and Walnut. He
looked up the street, saw Drummond approaching, talking on his cellphone.
Michael Drummond was in his mid-thirties, trim and athletic, well-dressed. He looked
like the archetypal Philadelphia defense attorney, yet he had somehow stayed in
the prosecutor's office for almost ten years. That was about to change. After
being courted for years by every high-powered defense firm in the city, he was
finally moving on. There was a going-away party scheduled for him at Finnigan's
Wake in a few days, a soiree at which Drummond would announce which white-shoe
firm he had chosen.
        'Counselor,'
Byrne said. They shook hands.
        'Good
morning, detective.'
        'How
does it look today?'
        Drummond
smiled. 'Do you remember the tiger scene in Gladiator?'
        'Sure.'
        'Something
along those lines.'
        'I'm
just a flatfoot,' Byrne said. 'You might have to explain that one to me.'
        Drummond
looked over Byrne's shoulder, then over his own. He turned back. 'Eddie Robles
is missing.'
        Byrne
just stared at Drummond, trying to keep all expression from his face. 'Is that
a fact?'
        'Facts
are my life,' Drummomd said. 'I called over there this