Read Online The Fregoli Delusion by Michael J. McCann - Free Book Online Page B

I’m it. And I’m a good listener. At least that’s what my girlfriend
says. Anyway, I’ve actually picked up a fair bit about the business. Know what
the most important commandment is?”
    He tossed the cigarette aside and
hopped down from the railing. “Protect the client. Drussler’s right: he’s
finished. He let the client poke holes in his protection and didn’t properly cover
the risks. He’s screwed.”
    “What happened this morning?” Hank
asked.
    “Same thing as every morning for
the last month and a half since Jarrett started using the bike path. In the
winter he apparently stayed indoors in his private gym, but once the weather
got better he started going out. They had an ongoing fight about it. At first,
Drussler had someone jog along with him, but that lasted only a couple of days
before Jarrett raised the roof. Then Drussler had the guy tag along in a car,
but Jarrett didn’t like that either and it wasn’t really workable anyway since
the path winds in and out of the trees and there wasn’t one hundred percent
line of sight on the client at all times. Then Drussler tried clandestine
protection, but it was like Jarrett had radar or something. He kept spotting
them and busting their ass. He obviously enjoyed playing games with it.”
    “Sounds like a nightmare client,”
Hank said.
    Horvath nodded. “Thought he was
Superman.”
    “Why waste the money?” Karen frowned.
“Why bother with security at all if you’re just going to fuck around with it
and leave yourself open?”
    “Drussler’s company provides the
full range for Jarrett Corporation. They secure this building and their other
properties around the world, they run background checks on employees, they
supply the pilots and crew for their executive jets and the guards that protect
Jarrett’s home and look after the other senior executives when they travel, the
whole nine yards. It’s a huge contract, and protecting the Jarretts themselves is
just a small part of it.”
    “So I take it they’d backed off on
Jarrett’s morning routine,” Hank said.
    Horvath shrugged. “They decided to
live with a half-hour window every morning. He left the grounds and went for
his bike ride, they picked him up when he came back, then stayed with him for
the rest of the day. Jarrett kept telling Drussler he wanted at least that much
privacy in his life.”
    “No way you back off on that,”
Karen muttered.
    Horvath looked at her. “Drussler
showed me a purchase order he’d signed off on yesterday morning. It was still
on his desk. They were going to set up wireless video surveillance all along
the bike path, in the trees and whatever, and have the car trawl along just out
of Jarrett’s sight. It was their next best shot.”
    “Too late,” Karen said,
unimpressed. “Somebody else got their shot in first.”
    “Where was Drussler this morning?”
Hank asked.
    “At home, having breakfast with
his family.”
    “I’d like you to go back and write
your report on King Street,” Hank said. “Let’s wash our hands of it so you can
work this case full time with Karen.” He turned to her. “You and I are going to
talk to Richard Holland.”
    “Where’s Peralta?” Karen asked.
“Still at the crime scene? How come Jarvis is poking his nose in?”
    “Keep it simple,” Hank said to
Horvath. “Understand what I’m saying?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What the hell am I missing here?”
Karen complained.
    “Where are you parked?” Hank asked
her, a little sharply. “Let’s get moving.”

 
    8
    “Funny story,” Karen said as she
floored the accelerator of the unmarked black Crown Victoria Police Interceptor
and shot over to the inside northbound lane of Howard Boulevard. “Johnny Go was
having a coffee the other day at this little sidewalk place down on Pritchard
Street in Little Italy. Across the street he sees one of his guys come out of a
shoe store, walking his beat. As he heads up the street, the guy’s firearm
suddenly falls off