AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Brenda Magellan. She and Cassius Magellan were married straight out of high school. He beat her up on the semi-regular, though back then, it was more accepted than it is now. Brenda was a stay-at-home mom of five: two girls and three boys. I guess Brenda reached a point in the end where she was done with Cassius taking his frustrations out on her, so she slaughtered him in his sleep and cited insanity on the stand.”
“She’s still in prison?” I know the case he speaks of. I think we all perused her case files in college at one point or another. “Where are her kids?”
Archer laughs and shakes his head. “You’re gonna pin this on one of them instead of going on honeymoon with me?” He playfully rolls his eyes. “Brenda died in prison three years ago. Three of her five children are alive and living humble lives. Two of the five, one boy, one girl, have perished over the years. None of them have ties to Adrianna or William Alves.”
“Well… except for the news reports that’ll start circulating soon. If you’ve already compared each case, then it won’t be long before that wench on Seventy-Nine does the same.”
“We’re only comparing because Adrianna’s professor literally mentioned it today. They ran the case in class on Monday. Wednesday, they were to continue discussing it. He recalls Adrianna’s absence on Wednesday night, though he didn’t think anything of it until she was on the news.”
“And what does he think of it now?” I question. “To be a criminology professor means he has a gift for profiling people, no? Does he think she did it? Did he provide you with any insight on her personality?”
“First of all,” Archer huffs out, “his only gifts are in being a rat snitch bitch with a small dick and an over-inflated ego.”
“Um…” Surprise makes my heart jump a little faster. “History I should know about?”
“Second,” he grins, “though Jones said a whole bunch of nothing, purely to hear himself speak, the general gist was that no, he doesn’t particularly think she’s capable of murdering her husband. Not even in defense, which, we know this wasn’t one of those anyway.”
“Hang on…” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my desk. “Go back to the ‘rat snitch’ thing. You and Professor Whatshisface have beef?”
“He used to be a cop.”
“Uh… okay? They seem like related fields. Leave one, go to the other. Makes reasonable sense.”
“He was in the OCS… That’s the Organized Crime Squad,” he explains when my expression remains neutral. “They were founded back in… I dunno. The sixties, I guess. Back when Copeland City mob activity was exploding and men were making six figures a day.”
As in… his father. A day? “Yikes.”
Finally, he smiles so the knot of dread settled low in my belly loosens. “Yikes. Yeah. Something like that. The squad was literally built during the Malone reign, and though a lot of that crime left Copeland City, focusing on New York instead, the OCS. remained functional. Even today,” he adds, gently nodding his head, “the squad exists. Jones was a member ten, fifteen years ago. He was young back then, but he was keen for a little notoriety. When I came out the other side of the academy and got my post right here, Jones was on me like white on rice. He thought he was slick. Tried to be my buddy. He and Fletch were vying for best friend status, and Jones would have said and done anything to bump himself up the list.”
“So you’re mad because Jones was too friendly?”
“When you’re raised in the life I was, you become accustomed to folks trying to horn in on your personal space.” He flashes a sadistic grin. “Why do you think we always eat at the house in New York, and not at restaurants?”
“Um…” Curiosity pings throughout my mind like balls in pinball machines. “I guess I just assumed you liked it that way.”
He shakes his head. “It’s because, in public, the Feds like to sit at the table next to ours. They follow our cars. They bug the clubs we hang out in.” He leans forward too, to meet my captivated stare. “They wanna be our friends, Minka Mayet. Because there are still Malones making six figures a day on the back of the black-market trade. And wannabes like Jones spent their careers hoping to be on the front page of the paper, with their accolades for taking down a crime syndicate.”
I sit back in my chair, ignoring the show Fletch and Fifi put on outside my office for my entire ninth floor staff. Ignoring Aubs, who watches the other two. I forget about a woman who may or may not have murdered her husband. And think instead, only of the crime family I incidentally married into. “I moved here from New York.”
Archer’s eyes narrow. “Yes, you did.”
“In fact, you saw me walk off the plane and arrive at the airport. Straight out of New York City.”
He ponders my words carefully. “Yes. I did.”
“How do you know I wasn’t placed here to get close to you?” My lips curl up on one side as the possibilities present themselves. “Maybe I was a plant all along. Seduce the sexy, younger Malone. Figure out his angle since he left New York and brought crime back to Copeland.”
“You’re undercover, Doctor Mayet?” His eyes twinkle with playfulness. His jaw, vibrating with humor. “You working for the Feds, or Cordoza? Or maybe Pastore,” he considers. “Are they paying you well?”
“I’m remunerated for my efforts,” I counter smugly. “And the sex is good.”
He pushes up from his chair, startling me when he places his fists on my desk and leans closer, so only a foot separates our faces. “A plausible story for many. A possibility for most seductive women. You wouldn’t have been the first sent to cozy up at my side, and you won’t be the last they try to tempt me with.”
My eyes narrow. The game I was playing, washed away on a tide of jealousy. “They send women here to tempt you?”
“Sure they do. But do you know how I know you’re you, Minka Mayet? Not a plant, not a decoy, not a fake?” He starts forward with lightning reflexes, slamming a kiss to my lips and backing away again, long before my brain catches up to stop him. “You don’t even like people. You’re not friendly to your actual friends. So there’s no way you could fake being nice, all for a payday.”
“Maybe that’s what makes my ruse convincing.” I’m still stuck on the temptress sluts sashaying their way into Copeland City with the express mission to seduce my husband. “How often do they try to get you into bed, Archer?”
