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“Like a boy scout.”
Her gaze landed on Snuff. “Prepared? Yes. But believe me, honey, your boss is no boy scout.”
The guys snickered. Her three guys did anyway, the other two seemed more reserved. That one furthest away, why was his face familiar?
“Do these two talk?”
“If you need them to,” Daly said and leaned in to speak near the top of her head. “Haven’t you figured out that the guys who don’t know Bluebell fear Bluebell?”
“Fear me?” she said and glanced at the building again. “They don’t fear me, they fear what Ire will do to them if they upset me.”
“Same difference,” Hock said, striding on by to ascend the stoop.
The other guys carried her along with them in his wake.
“Got a gameplan?” Daly asked.
She pressed the buzzer. “I’m going to ask nicely.”
“Think that’ll work?”
“If I thought it was guaranteed, you wouldn’t be here,” she muttered under her breath.
The speaker crackled. “What do you want?” a guy barked.
“I’m looking for David Sneddon.”
Daly shouldered her closer to the microphone as he crowded in at her back.
“Why?”
“Are you David Sneddon?” she asked, though his reticence was sort of answer enough. “I have a few questions—”
“Go away.”
The crackling stopped.
“Guess he’s happy to see us,” she said, turning to the guys just as the door opened.
Her moment of hope that Sneddon had changed his mind vanished when Daly’s tools in the lock clued her in.
He slipped the metal gadgets away. “Mademoiselle…”
“You pick locks?” she asked, going inside. “Is that like a prerequisite? I thought you’d be less… discreet.”
“Trick is…” Hock led the way up the stairs, “be discreet in public, where people can see.”
“Then behind closed doors…”
“Plausible deniability,” she said, bobbing her head. “I get it. Smart.”
“McDades are in the business of reducing our criminal footprint.”
“Leave as little evidence as possible.”
“Gives you more time to work. If nothing’s out of place…”
No one would have reason to call the cops.
