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“After I make a stop at Bailey’s grocery.”
“Where’s that?”
“Corner of Kendrick and Mulberry.”
“That’s on the other side of town. Why so far?”
“I’m on a mango run. I was in the area last week and picked up some fruit at the store. Kennedy went crazy over the mangoes and asked me to pick up some more. I think she’s got some sort of special dessert in mind for tonight.”
Nick didn’t question his friend’s need to please his wife. He’d seen Thomas’s devotion to Kennedy firsthand…there was almost nothing he wouldn’t do for her. And Kennedy was the same way about her husband. If anyone had the perfect marriage, it was the O’Connells.
“Sounds like you guys have plans for the evening.”
“Yeah, something like that. Why? What’s up?”
“I thought we might meet later and talk about that text you sent me yesterday. You know…about the Slaters.”
The slight pause before Thomas answered told Nick that plans or not, his friend didn’t want to discuss the subject. “It’s nothing, really. I made a couple of calls, thinking I’d found something interesting, but nothing panned out. Forget about it.”
Thomas O’Connell was the finest man Nick knew, but he couldn’t lie for shit. Something was definitely going on. “What do you mean you made a couple of calls? To who?”
“No one…really. Just forget I mentioned anything, okay?”
“Look, I’ll be the first to admit there’s no way the Slaters are as squeaky clean as they pretend. But if you are right, they’ll screw up big-time one day and get what’s coming to them.”
“Yeah, I know that. Like I said, it was just an idea that didn’t pan out. I’m over it now. So who’s the hottie of the night?”
The less-than-smooth effort to change the subject made Nick even more suspicious. Letting him off the hook for the time being, he said, “Louisa something or other.”
“Where’d you meet this one?”
“Belden’s party last week.”
“Where’re you taking her before you take her to bed?”
Nick snorted his disgust. His reputation of being a lady’s man was mostly fictional. Yeah, he dated a lot of different women, because he enjoyed their company. Somehow, even Thomas was under the impression that it also meant he had a lot of sex.
“I don’t sleep with all of them.”
Thomas gave his own snort, this one of disbelief. “Yeah. Right.”
Knowing whatever protests he made would only be construed as modest, Nick decided to go back to their original discussion. “Seriously, let’s talk about the Slaters tomorrow. If you’ve got something on your mind, I want to hear about it. Want to meet for lunch at Barney’s?”
“Um…yeah…sure, lunch sounds good. But I promise there’s nothing to talk about. Gotta go. Catch you later.”
Nick cursed softly at the abrupt end to the call. Thomas was definitely keeping something from him. Tomorrow he’d get in his face and make him talk. Screwing around with the Slaters wasn’t a good career move. With their kind of influence, they could end a career with a phone call. On the other hand, if Thomas did have something significant on the family, then Nick wanted to know about it.
Mathias Slater and his clan were Texas royalty. Few people in America, much less Texas, hadn’t heard of the Slaters. They were one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the country with descendants dating back to the first American settlers. Nothing seemed to tarnish their good image. Even the arrest and conviction of the youngest Slater, Jonah, on a major drug-smuggling charge had done nothing more than elicit sympathy. Shit bounced off of them like they had some kind of protective shield.
Nick knew almost nothing personally about the family—just what he’d seen on the news or read in the paper. One thing he did know was they had major connections. Hell, last week he’d seen a photo of Mathias Slater shaking hands with the president. The family had the kind of influence that most people could only dream of having.
A few months back, Thomas had handled the investigation of Jonah Slater and had given Nick the lowdown. Slater had been caught red-handed with a boatload of illegal drugs. In fact, he’d looked so stinking guilty that Thomas had said he would have suspected the guy had been framed if he hadn’t been a Slater. According to Thomas, it’d taken almost no investigation or effort to put Jonah away. He was now serving a hefty sentence in Brownsville.
Mathias Slater had made the most of the publicity. He’d held a press conference, stating that he still loved his son and offered his full support. He’d even donated millions to a drug-rehab facility. Nick had caught the press conference on television and had seen more than a few people wipe away tears.
Thomas had described an incident the day Jonah Slater was sentenced. Said it had given him several sleepless nights. Jonah had been about to walk from the courtroom, his hands and ankles shackled, but he’d stopped in front of Thomas and said, “Hell of an investigation, O’Connell. Hope you didn’t break a nail.”
Nick agreed it was strange but had encouraged Thomas to let it go. Cryptic remarks from convicted criminals weren’t exactly unusual. And prisons were filled with criminals who swore they were innocent. Few freely admitted their guilt.
