Read Online Skeleton Justice by Michael Baden, Linda Kenney Baden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Baden, Linda Kenney Baden
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back and talked to us some more, then said we could go. That’s all I cared about. We split.”
Sam studied Boo. A fine sheen of sweat clung to the punk’s forehead. Systematically, he cracked all the knuckles on one big paw, then went to work on the other hand. Sam had the sinking feeling that this yahoo was telling the truth. And that meant Manny’s case was even more complicated than they’d suspected. “So, who asked you to get Paco into the club?”
Boo squirmed in his seat like a kid in the principal’s office. “See, that’s the part you’re going to have a hard time believing.”
“Try me.”
“I got this call and a guy with a funny accent offered me five hundred bucks to get Paco into the club, get him some drinks, and take him out after closing. He was actin’ all mysterious, said he’d leave the money in a paper bag at the playground.” Boo shook his head. “It was like he watched too many movies, yanno?
“I thought someone was messin’ with me. I went to the playground expecting some kind of scam. But the bag was there with the money, just like he said. So I figured, what the hell. It’s no skin off my nose. We go to Club E all the time anyway.”
“You didn’t ask who he was, why he contacted you for this job?”
“He had my cell number. He had to have been referred by a friend.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Some friend. Let’s see your cell phone. Is this guy’s number still in the calls received?”
“I already tried that. After the bomb went off and the cops came, I was pissed. We talked our way outta there, but I coulda been in big trouble. So I called the number back to ask what the fuck was going on, and the phone just rang and rang. Finally, some guy who sounded like a drunk answered and said it was a pay phone at Penn Station. I heard a train announcement in the background, so I knew he was telling the truth.”
“All right, give me your cell number. We may need to talk again.” Sam looked down at the congealing blood on the floor. “And I don’t think we’re going to be welcome here.”
Boo rattled off a number and Sam stored it in his own phone, then pressed the call button just to make sure he hadn’t been given the number for the Monmouth Park Racetrack. A shriek that passed for music emanated from Boo’s pocket.
“Answer that and save the number,” Sam directed. “Your mysterious friend calls again, let me know.”
Manny raced from the parking lot toward federal court, feeling like she’d just been presented with a white-ribboned robin’s egg blue box from Tiffany’s. God bless Sam—he’d uncovered just the information she needed to clinch this bail hearing. And just in case, she had her usual small piece of red cloth pinned to the inside of her suit jacket to ward off the evil eye, just like her mother and her mother’s mother had taught her. Can never be too careful, after all. Manny was a third-generation Scorpio, her generational DNA included an allele for the belief in the super natural.
“By the time I’m done with Brian Lisnek, that prosecutor is going to be so covered with egg, you could make an omelette out of him,” Manny crowed to Kenneth, who matched her stride for stride past the cement barriers protecting the massive new building across from the old post office.
“The last omelette you made for me was dry and rubbery,” Kenneth complained. “Don’t get overconfident.”
Manny waved his warning off with a laugh, realizing as she did that if Jake had said the same thing to her, she would’ve been highly insulted. But Kenneth could get away with a lot of things that Jake wouldn’t dare try, including, but not limited to, singing “Over the Rainbow” or anything Cher while wearing a vintage Dior sheath.
Jake had been impressed when she told him the judge had granted her the opportunity to examine the government’s so-called forensic expert as well as their eyewitness at the bail hearing. That was highly unusual, but the
Sam studied Boo. A fine sheen of sweat clung to the punk’s forehead. Systematically, he cracked all the knuckles on one big paw, then went to work on the other hand. Sam had the sinking feeling that this yahoo was telling the truth. And that meant Manny’s case was even more complicated than they’d suspected. “So, who asked you to get Paco into the club?”
Boo squirmed in his seat like a kid in the principal’s office. “See, that’s the part you’re going to have a hard time believing.”
“Try me.”
“I got this call and a guy with a funny accent offered me five hundred bucks to get Paco into the club, get him some drinks, and take him out after closing. He was actin’ all mysterious, said he’d leave the money in a paper bag at the playground.” Boo shook his head. “It was like he watched too many movies, yanno?
“I thought someone was messin’ with me. I went to the playground expecting some kind of scam. But the bag was there with the money, just like he said. So I figured, what the hell. It’s no skin off my nose. We go to Club E all the time anyway.”
“You didn’t ask who he was, why he contacted you for this job?”
“He had my cell number. He had to have been referred by a friend.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Some friend. Let’s see your cell phone. Is this guy’s number still in the calls received?”
“I already tried that. After the bomb went off and the cops came, I was pissed. We talked our way outta there, but I coulda been in big trouble. So I called the number back to ask what the fuck was going on, and the phone just rang and rang. Finally, some guy who sounded like a drunk answered and said it was a pay phone at Penn Station. I heard a train announcement in the background, so I knew he was telling the truth.”
“All right, give me your cell number. We may need to talk again.” Sam looked down at the congealing blood on the floor. “And I don’t think we’re going to be welcome here.”
Boo rattled off a number and Sam stored it in his own phone, then pressed the call button just to make sure he hadn’t been given the number for the Monmouth Park Racetrack. A shriek that passed for music emanated from Boo’s pocket.
“Answer that and save the number,” Sam directed. “Your mysterious friend calls again, let me know.”
Manny raced from the parking lot toward federal court, feeling like she’d just been presented with a white-ribboned robin’s egg blue box from Tiffany’s. God bless Sam—he’d uncovered just the information she needed to clinch this bail hearing. And just in case, she had her usual small piece of red cloth pinned to the inside of her suit jacket to ward off the evil eye, just like her mother and her mother’s mother had taught her. Can never be too careful, after all. Manny was a third-generation Scorpio, her generational DNA included an allele for the belief in the super natural.
“By the time I’m done with Brian Lisnek, that prosecutor is going to be so covered with egg, you could make an omelette out of him,” Manny crowed to Kenneth, who matched her stride for stride past the cement barriers protecting the massive new building across from the old post office.
“The last omelette you made for me was dry and rubbery,” Kenneth complained. “Don’t get overconfident.”
Manny waved his warning off with a laugh, realizing as she did that if Jake had said the same thing to her, she would’ve been highly insulted. But Kenneth could get away with a lot of things that Jake wouldn’t dare try, including, but not limited to, singing “Over the Rainbow” or anything Cher while wearing a vintage Dior sheath.
Jake had been impressed when she told him the judge had granted her the opportunity to examine the government’s so-called forensic expert as well as their eyewitness at the bail hearing. That was highly unusual, but the
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