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We’re just finishing up when a man strides into the pizza parlor. Like at the station, he’s too business-like. Doesn’t fit in here either.
“Chief,” I greet, nodding when Tanaka’s eyes land on mine.
Tanaka stops mid-stride and walks over to our table. When he sees Oliver, he grins.
“Oliver,” Tanaka says with a chuckle. “When you told me you were going on a date, I didn’t know it was with one of PMPD’s finest. Good call, brother.”
The familiarity between these two strikes me. Oliver slides out of the booth to shake Tanaka’s hand and then pulls him in for a fierce man hug.
“Hiroshi was the one who recommended this place,” Oliver tells me, elbowing his brother. “Back in Seattle, he knew all the good places to eat. How’s the new job and town treating you anyway, man? It’s a far cry from big-city life.”
The two friends chatter animatedly. The fact that Oliver is so chummy with him has an oily feeling slicking over me. Tanaka is sketchy in my opinion. There’s a lot about him that doesn’t add up. Oliver is clearly loaded and comes from money. These two shouldn’t even be running in the same circles. Tanaka was a beat cop who worked his way up the ranks.
“The Ghirards sure are pleased,” Oliver says, clutching Tanaka’s shoulder. “Your ability to get these cases closed without dramatic fanfare is admirable.”
The Ghirards?
Scratch the oily feeling. I’m feeling completely sick to my stomach and grossed out. The garlic knots are souring in my gut. Are these two running some sort of scheme?
“You represented the Ghirards?” I blurt out, frowning at Oliver.
Tanaka’s eyes narrow as he studies me, but I don’t let him intimidate me. Oliver slowly nods, confusion marring his features.
“You know them?” Oliver asks.
I force a smile and wave him off. “Just knew about the case from work, is all. The name was familiar.”
The men continue to talk, but their conversation feels more guarded now that I’ve been caught listening. Finally, Tanaka tells us goodbye and goes to retrieve his takeout order.
“So where were we?” Oliver digs back into his now cooling pizza and continues to chatter about mundane things like golf frisbee.
I’m done talking and done with this date.
I knew something was off with Tanaka and him knowing the Ghirards’ attorney, who’s obviously more than a good friend, feels like there was a conflict of interest we should have known about.
I’m starting to believe Tanaka isn’t as squeaky clean as he outwardly portrays.
I think we may have ourselves more than a dirty cop.
We have a corrupt chief.
Dempsey
“I’m going to have to beat some ass,” I grumble under my breath to Tate. “If that frat boy bumps into my sister one more time and cops a feel, he’s going to get a knee to his nuts.”
Tate chuckles and shakes his head. “Gemma can handle herself.”
Despite being in a pool hall with its fair share of sketchy characters, Gemma does hold her own well. The dude bro sidesteps her when she bares her teeth and hisses like a cat, swiping her razor-like pointy fingernails at him. His buddies laugh as his face turns red and then they all saunter away from our table.
Gemma, no longer being harassed by the douchebag, takes her shot and sinks it into the side pocket. She makes a squeal of delight and then misses her next shot. She huffs as she shoves my stick back at me. “Your turn, sucker.”
“Watch out,” Jude mumbles when he returns from the restroom. “He’s about to mop the floor with you, little girl.”
She rolls her eyes at him, but we know it’s the truth. Even on her best day, Gemma could never outplay me. Tate, perhaps. But Gemma? Never.
“I think those guys in the corner are watching,” Tate says, voice low as I consider my next shot. “They’ve been playing all night for money. They’re sizing up how you play. I wouldn’t be surprised if they challenge you to a game.”
Usually, I know the guys who haunt this particular pool hall. We sometimes have tournaments and bet on our games. The group of men observing our game, though, are unfamiliar to me.
