Braddock had waited until Banks was in the room to do this part. He picked up the small roll of blue painter’s tape from the table, pulled the chair he’d vacated across the room, and stepped up onto it. After tearing off a strip of tape, he plastered it across the camera lens and stepped down from the chair.
“What the hell?” Banks mumbled.
Braddock pulled his chair back to the table and took a seat. He shoved the roll of tape back into the table’s only drawer, then reached beneath the desk to turn off the microphone. “Now. I understand you had a few beers with my partner last night.” Cooper had called Braddock at three-thirty this morning to say she’d delivered Banks to his house since he was shit-faced. She’d learned a couple of interesting tidbits, nothing case-breaking, but enough to give Braddock some leverage.
“Your damned partner,” Banks said, his speech still slightly slurred, “set me up. That’s called entrapment.”
Braddock turned his palms up. “Prove it.”
Banks puffed out a breath. “Screw you.”
“The problem is ...” Braddock sat back, studied the scumbag. “You’re the one who’s screwed.”
The other man’s gaze narrowed. “How do you figure that?”
“Considering two uniforms picked you up at your house this morning and hauled you in—not to mention my partner took you home in the wee hours of the morning—I would say Nash has concluded that you’re cooperating with the police.”
Banks laughed. “I ain’t doing nothing with the police.”
“You know that,” Braddock allowed, “and I know that, but Nash doesn’t.”
Fear made its first appearance in the scumbag’s eyes.
“Detective Cooper reported that you kept talking about Nash having a plan to execute his revenge against me. Why don’t you start with telling me about that?”
“I was drunk. I don’t even remember what I said. But I don’t know nothing about what Nash does. I told you that.”
Nothing Braddock hadn’t expected. Shelley had warned him that Banks wouldn’t talk without some major motivation. Braddock stood, sending his chair scraping across the tiled floor. “You see, Ricky”—he leaned forward, braced his hands on the table, and put his face in the other man’s—“that’s just not acceptable to me.”
“Ain’t shit you can do about it,” the bastard had the balls to say.
Braddock smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong.” His smile vanished. “I will watch every move you make. Have you hauled in every single day until you wish you were anybody but Ricky Banks. I’ll put the word out on the street that you’re a snitch. You won’t have a customer left in this county or the next who’ll do business with you. And you’ll be so sick of seeing my face that you’ll want to take that unlicensed Glock of yours and put yourself out of your misery before someone else does it for you.”
“You want me to help you,” Banks scoffed, “the way Shelley helped you? Yeah, right. I don’t wanna get dead like her.”
Self-disgust cramped Braddock’s insides. “I guess it all depends upon who scares you the most, Banks. Nash or me.”
The stare-off lasted long enough for sweat to break out on the other man’s forehead.
“I can help you.” Banks swallowed hard. “You just have to give me time to set things in motion. Ty is careful.” He blinked for the first time. His hands shook as he shoved the hair back from his face. “You won’t be able to connect him to any of his past activities. It’ll have to be something new.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Seventy-two hours.” Braddock let that sink in a moment. “That’s all the time I can give you. Can you make that happen?”
Banks nodded eagerly. “I’ll make it happen.”
“You get what I need on Nash and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Can I leave now?”
Braddock dragged his chair back to the wall and removed the tape from the camera lens. “Absolutely. I’ll have someone take you to your car.”
Braddock left the room. Jenkins waited in the corridor. “Take that piece of shit to his car. It’s parked at that cantina on Drake.”
“Did he give you anything useful?” the junior detective asked, anticipation gleaming in his eyes. He wanted deeper into this case sobad it hurt. He followed Braddock around like a groupie. Told everyone he wanted to be just like him.
Braddock grinned. “He’ll get us what we need.”
Jenkins nodded as if he hadn’t expected anything less. “Of course. I don’t know why I asked. He didn’t have a chance against you.”
