Read Online The Finishing School by Michele Martinez - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michele Martinez
Tags: Fiction, General, LEGAL, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Detective and Mystery Stories, Legal Stories, Mystery Fiction, Women lawyers, Public Prosecutors, Manhattan (New York; N.Y.), Vargas; Melanie (Fictitious character), Preparatory schools
Ads: Link
either.”
“She’s some bigwig’s daughter,” Melanie said.
“Oh, Jimmy Mulqueen? That makes sense. Explains how she got her detective’s shield anyway.”
“Don’t say that. Maybe she earned it legitimately.” Melanie felt compelled to defend Bridget, if only to reassure herself that she wasn’t succumbing to irrational jealousy.
“You don’t know the PD,” Dan said.
“
We
don’t know Bridget. People hold this family connection against her. Shouldn’t we give her the benefit of the doubt?”
“You’re very open-minded, Melanie Vargas. That’s a nice quality in a person.” He gave her a smile like the sun coming out on the first day of spring. It reminded her of old times, and she could hardly bear it.
“It’s freezing down here. I’d better go,” she said, and ran back into the elevator, moving too quickly to catch the hungry look in Dan’s eyes.
12
“EVERYTHING OKAY?” Ray-Ray asked, turning with a start as Melanie slammed the door.
“Fine. Sorry.”
She’d better calm down and focus. This was an important interview. Juan Carlos Peralta might admit to providing the heroin, which would lay to rest any speculation about foul play in the girls’ deaths. He might even be able to tell them where to find Carmen Reyes. Whatever information he had, Melanie wouldn’t get it if she didn’t control her emotions. Seeing Dan again had left her even more shaken than she’d anticipated, but she needed to put those feelings aside now.
She walked slowly and deliberately around the small conference table and sat down across from Ray-Ray and Peralta. Ray-Ray introduced her to a second DEA agent who was acting as a sentry, leaning against the wall near the door.
Juan Carlos’s right hand was cuffed to the arm of the chair in which he sat. He leaned forward, holding a massive cheeseburger in his left. It dripped gobs of mayonnaise and ketchup onto the congealed fries in the round foil container below. The overpowering smell of grease so early in the morning turned Melanie’s stomach.
A short, beefy kid with a crew cut, maybe in his early twenties, Juan Carlos wore baggy but perfectly creased khaki pants. The sleeves had been cut off his spotless gray sweatshirt, though you might not notice, since his buff arms were sheathed in elaborate tattoos from shoulder to wrist, mimicking the look of a garment. That much tattooing must cost a pretty penny, Melanie reflected. Juan Carlos obviously had a steady source of income.
“Where do we stand?” Melanie asked Ray-Ray.
“Juan Carlos here was just giving me some intelligence on MS-13. The big Salvadoran gang out in Corona?” Ray-Ray said.
“Sure. Is that why you’re wearing that do-rag?” she asked, nodding toward the blue-and-white bandanna arranged just so around Juan Carlos’s thick neck. These
cholo
kids were very precise with their fashion.
“Yeah, this they colors,” he said, through a mouthful of burger. “I be initiated and shit. Know all about
la vida loca
. I got names, dates of meetin’s, anything you want. I ain’t never participate in nothin’ illegal, of course. I jus’ join for social purposes.”
Juan Carlos talked like any other gangbanger from the projects. You’d never guess he wasn’t born stateside. Luis Reyes had been right on the money about this kid.
“Intelligence on MS-13 is worth something, Juan Carlos,” she said, “but not enough to get you a plea deal. We need to hear about the heroin Agent Wong found on you, and we need to hear about Carmen Reyes.”
“Like I told your boy here, ma’am, those drugs ain’t mine. I be holding for a friend. I ain’t never sell.
Mi abuela
, she smoke me if she catch me scammin’ dope.”
“Yeah? What’s your friend’s name whose dope it is?”
“I ain’t know his name. I just met him yesterday.”
“What does he look like?”
“I don’t really remember. He real average-lookin’.”
“Funny, I’ve heard of this guy before. That nameless,
“She’s some bigwig’s daughter,” Melanie said.
“Oh, Jimmy Mulqueen? That makes sense. Explains how she got her detective’s shield anyway.”
“Don’t say that. Maybe she earned it legitimately.” Melanie felt compelled to defend Bridget, if only to reassure herself that she wasn’t succumbing to irrational jealousy.
“You don’t know the PD,” Dan said.
“
We
don’t know Bridget. People hold this family connection against her. Shouldn’t we give her the benefit of the doubt?”
“You’re very open-minded, Melanie Vargas. That’s a nice quality in a person.” He gave her a smile like the sun coming out on the first day of spring. It reminded her of old times, and she could hardly bear it.
“It’s freezing down here. I’d better go,” she said, and ran back into the elevator, moving too quickly to catch the hungry look in Dan’s eyes.
12
“EVERYTHING OKAY?” Ray-Ray asked, turning with a start as Melanie slammed the door.
“Fine. Sorry.”
She’d better calm down and focus. This was an important interview. Juan Carlos Peralta might admit to providing the heroin, which would lay to rest any speculation about foul play in the girls’ deaths. He might even be able to tell them where to find Carmen Reyes. Whatever information he had, Melanie wouldn’t get it if she didn’t control her emotions. Seeing Dan again had left her even more shaken than she’d anticipated, but she needed to put those feelings aside now.
She walked slowly and deliberately around the small conference table and sat down across from Ray-Ray and Peralta. Ray-Ray introduced her to a second DEA agent who was acting as a sentry, leaning against the wall near the door.
Juan Carlos’s right hand was cuffed to the arm of the chair in which he sat. He leaned forward, holding a massive cheeseburger in his left. It dripped gobs of mayonnaise and ketchup onto the congealed fries in the round foil container below. The overpowering smell of grease so early in the morning turned Melanie’s stomach.
A short, beefy kid with a crew cut, maybe in his early twenties, Juan Carlos wore baggy but perfectly creased khaki pants. The sleeves had been cut off his spotless gray sweatshirt, though you might not notice, since his buff arms were sheathed in elaborate tattoos from shoulder to wrist, mimicking the look of a garment. That much tattooing must cost a pretty penny, Melanie reflected. Juan Carlos obviously had a steady source of income.
“Where do we stand?” Melanie asked Ray-Ray.
“Juan Carlos here was just giving me some intelligence on MS-13. The big Salvadoran gang out in Corona?” Ray-Ray said.
“Sure. Is that why you’re wearing that do-rag?” she asked, nodding toward the blue-and-white bandanna arranged just so around Juan Carlos’s thick neck. These
cholo
kids were very precise with their fashion.
“Yeah, this they colors,” he said, through a mouthful of burger. “I be initiated and shit. Know all about
la vida loca
. I got names, dates of meetin’s, anything you want. I ain’t never participate in nothin’ illegal, of course. I jus’ join for social purposes.”
Juan Carlos talked like any other gangbanger from the projects. You’d never guess he wasn’t born stateside. Luis Reyes had been right on the money about this kid.
“Intelligence on MS-13 is worth something, Juan Carlos,” she said, “but not enough to get you a plea deal. We need to hear about the heroin Agent Wong found on you, and we need to hear about Carmen Reyes.”
“Like I told your boy here, ma’am, those drugs ain’t mine. I be holding for a friend. I ain’t never sell.
Mi abuela
, she smoke me if she catch me scammin’ dope.”
“Yeah? What’s your friend’s name whose dope it is?”
“I ain’t know his name. I just met him yesterday.”
“What does he look like?”
“I don’t really remember. He real average-lookin’.”
“Funny, I’ve heard of this guy before. That nameless,
Similar Books
