Read Online The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery by Richard Cain - Free Book Online Page A

here than meets the eye. I’d like to meet this Ann Falconer either way and ask her some questions.”
    â€œIs that a yes?”
    â€œYeah. Yeah, let’s do that. We’ll drop off the fingerprint cards at FIU . Then meet the girls for dinner.”
    Carscadden dropped the visor down to block the sun from his eyes. “Sure. We’d love to see little Josie. I’ll text the plan to the boss. So what are the cops’ names anyways?”
    Nastos handed his phone over. “You can read it out to me while I drive.”
    Carscadden scrolled down. “Life is about to get complicated for officers Radix and Morrison.”

6
    Karen took what had become her usual precautions on the way back to her condo: two separate and illegal U-turns chosen at random intersections while she studied the cars in the rear-view mirror. She was an oddity, a crime journalist who had actually been a cop. She had been shot at, in car chases, done “spin” or surveillance, been beaten up during interrogations. She’d lived almost the entire spectrum of the policing experience. She had learned how to investigate stories and people the way journalists used to in the ’70s and ’80s, before the twenty-four-hour news cycle turned every story into a Twitter feed. She struggled with the need to condense the story like a marathon runner who was forced to compete in sprints. Her skills presented themselves only when a story needed a journalist who could take it the distance, methodically plodding through the self-serving lies to find the truth.
    She avoided the Don Valley Parkway for obvious reasons, taking side streets to monitor the following traffic. Before long she arrived at her building, 701 Don Mills Road. It had once been her older brother’s apartment. He lived there while he attended university and when she moved to town she joined him there. After a year as roommates, he moved out, leaving it for her.
    When the building owner starting flipping the units into condos Karen bought it for the investment, thinking that she’d build equity until the right guy came along, then she’d flip the cash into a house. Despite working as a cop in a ninety percent male-dominated profession, the only contender who meant anything to her was married.
    He’s not married now; now he’s a widower.
She pushed the thought out of her mind.
With the past we’ve had, we don’t stand a chance.
    She took the elevator up to the twelfth floor to number twenty-one, and put the key in the door. She pushed the door tentatively, forgetting that she still had to unlock the deadbolt, and was confused when the door moved so much. The chain at the top didn’t block the door from swinging open either. She had watched Falconer lock it as she left. Her heart raced. “Ann?”
    â€œYes?” the voice was Ann’s, from a back room. Karen checked her watch. It was two p.m. Usually Falconer slept all day.
    â€œWhy isn’t the chain on?” Karen eyed the apartment, looking for anything that might be out of place.
    Falconer stepped out from the kitchen, using a finger to smooth out her lip gloss. “It’s beautiful out; I’m going for a walk.”
    Karen noted the white capris and white tank top Falconer was wearing. Her hair was like something out of a Bon Jovi music video. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Where are you going?”
    Karen had never been a coward. Even with a dad who was a cop and over-protective of his daughter, she was raised with a cop’s street smarts. However, since Walker was shot to death and after hearing the
Life and Times of Ann Falconer,
weariness was becoming paranoia.
    â€œI’m going to the park,” Falconer replied. It was a lie, a rehearsed statement offered almost before the question was asked. Falconer wasn’t exactly a nature lover; she was a former prostitute with a not-so-former drug addiction. “And where were you