Read Online The Seduction - Art Bourgeau by Art Bourgeau - Free Book Online
Authors: Art Bourgeau
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Seventh.
They could be stacked, buried, bricked up, in any of those old
houses. We've searched some of them but we've got to do more. There's
also both rivers. There's North Philly. You could lose a damn army
there. And of course, let's don't forget Jersey and the pine barrens.
So I don't know. I'm not too worried about that right now, though.
We've got a body, people. Finally. We've got a murder-one charge. Now
we need to find Peter and pin it where it belongs. I'm sure you
follow." He looked down at the file again. "We have a
description here but it's all third hand. Nobody seems actually to
have ever seen Peter. Just hearsay stuff . . . dark hair, beard,
tinted glasses, leather jacket. Could be half the buddy boys in town.
It also might be a disguise, of course. Guy could be bald as yours
truly. Evans, check out the costumers on Walnut, get names of people
buying wigs and beards. Two other things, though. He drives a
silver-gray sports car. No make or model-yet. And he tells the girls
he's an undercover cop."
"Don't they all," said Rafferty, digging at
his nails.
"He's been perfect up till now, but it appears
he may have made a little mistake." Sloan held up a black
matchbook with the word "Lagniappe" in gold on the cover.
"We found this in the purse of the deceased. It's from
Lagniappe, the restaurant in Society Hill. Fancy place. Rock stars,
sports figures, politicians, artists, you know what I mean. Not
exactly the kind of place you'd find a teenager from South Philly in.
She had a pack of Marlboros in her purse. Two cigarettes missing, and
no other matches. According to her parents she did smoke but they
wouldn't let her do it at home. So a possible scenario—she kept the
matches when our man gave them to her to light a cigarette. Maybe she
lit one for each of them."
"That seems thin to me. She could have gotten
them any number of places," said Spivak.
"You're right on, Spivak. It's the old thing
about the bottle being half-empty or half-full. I'm choosing to think
of it as half-full. This is the first lead of any substance we've had
on this guy. We're going to follow it up all the way t0 the end. I
want you and Kane"—he nodded at the female detective—"to
hang around Lagniappe. Get known as customers. See what you can come
up with."
"On expense account?" said Kane.
Sloan ignored it.
"What about me and Rafferty?" said Evans.
"That's a gravy assignment. You'd think a couple of vets could
get in out of the rain once in a while."
Sloan allowed a smile. "With the faces on you
two, they wouldn't let you in the door. Besides, Evans, your wife
would skin me if I sent you into a dangerous situation like that."
"Dangerous?"
"To you, genius," growled Rafferty. "He's
right. Agnes would kill you if she found out you were hanging around
a slop chute like that without her. Case or no case."
Sloan let the banter run its course, then brought
them back to business. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you,"
he said to Spivak and Kane, "don't tip you hand. The last thing
we want is to get our man in motion before we're ready."
"Anything more about the place we ought to
know?" asked Spivak.
"I asked around before the meeting," Sloane
said. "It's not exactly my turf. No drugs or hookers. A
reputable establishment for the rich, the famous, and the
upward-mobiles. There is one thing, though. Couple of years ago one
of the waitresses accused the owner of trying to rape her. The
complaint didn't get anywhere because it turned out the owner"—he
paused and looked at the file—"Justin Fortier's his name, had
just fired her for stealing. Probably means nothing, but check it
out. It's at least a place to start."
CHAPTER 5
MISSY GLANCED down at her gold-and-diamond Piaget
wristwatch with some annoyance as Felix Ducroit stopped the car
across from the Rothstein Medical Tower at Seventeenth and Pine.
Quarter past ten. She'd be late for work, and her first morning back.
Never mind, Felix was more important . . . The man really
They could be stacked, buried, bricked up, in any of those old
houses. We've searched some of them but we've got to do more. There's
also both rivers. There's North Philly. You could lose a damn army
there. And of course, let's don't forget Jersey and the pine barrens.
So I don't know. I'm not too worried about that right now, though.
We've got a body, people. Finally. We've got a murder-one charge. Now
we need to find Peter and pin it where it belongs. I'm sure you
follow." He looked down at the file again. "We have a
description here but it's all third hand. Nobody seems actually to
have ever seen Peter. Just hearsay stuff . . . dark hair, beard,
tinted glasses, leather jacket. Could be half the buddy boys in town.
It also might be a disguise, of course. Guy could be bald as yours
truly. Evans, check out the costumers on Walnut, get names of people
buying wigs and beards. Two other things, though. He drives a
silver-gray sports car. No make or model-yet. And he tells the girls
he's an undercover cop."
"Don't they all," said Rafferty, digging at
his nails.
"He's been perfect up till now, but it appears
he may have made a little mistake." Sloan held up a black
matchbook with the word "Lagniappe" in gold on the cover.
"We found this in the purse of the deceased. It's from
Lagniappe, the restaurant in Society Hill. Fancy place. Rock stars,
sports figures, politicians, artists, you know what I mean. Not
exactly the kind of place you'd find a teenager from South Philly in.
She had a pack of Marlboros in her purse. Two cigarettes missing, and
no other matches. According to her parents she did smoke but they
wouldn't let her do it at home. So a possible scenario—she kept the
matches when our man gave them to her to light a cigarette. Maybe she
lit one for each of them."
"That seems thin to me. She could have gotten
them any number of places," said Spivak.
"You're right on, Spivak. It's the old thing
about the bottle being half-empty or half-full. I'm choosing to think
of it as half-full. This is the first lead of any substance we've had
on this guy. We're going to follow it up all the way t0 the end. I
want you and Kane"—he nodded at the female detective—"to
hang around Lagniappe. Get known as customers. See what you can come
up with."
"On expense account?" said Kane.
Sloan ignored it.
"What about me and Rafferty?" said Evans.
"That's a gravy assignment. You'd think a couple of vets could
get in out of the rain once in a while."
Sloan allowed a smile. "With the faces on you
two, they wouldn't let you in the door. Besides, Evans, your wife
would skin me if I sent you into a dangerous situation like that."
"Dangerous?"
"To you, genius," growled Rafferty. "He's
right. Agnes would kill you if she found out you were hanging around
a slop chute like that without her. Case or no case."
Sloan let the banter run its course, then brought
them back to business. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you,"
he said to Spivak and Kane, "don't tip you hand. The last thing
we want is to get our man in motion before we're ready."
"Anything more about the place we ought to
know?" asked Spivak.
"I asked around before the meeting," Sloane
said. "It's not exactly my turf. No drugs or hookers. A
reputable establishment for the rich, the famous, and the
upward-mobiles. There is one thing, though. Couple of years ago one
of the waitresses accused the owner of trying to rape her. The
complaint didn't get anywhere because it turned out the owner"—he
paused and looked at the file—"Justin Fortier's his name, had
just fired her for stealing. Probably means nothing, but check it
out. It's at least a place to start."
CHAPTER 5
MISSY GLANCED down at her gold-and-diamond Piaget
wristwatch with some annoyance as Felix Ducroit stopped the car
across from the Rothstein Medical Tower at Seventeenth and Pine.
Quarter past ten. She'd be late for work, and her first morning back.
Never mind, Felix was more important . . . The man really
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