Page 114 of One of Us Is Guilty

He wasn’t easy to miss.

I couldn’t hear what was said, but I watched him hand over the box of donuts to a bemused, but somewhat delighted, Detective Ben Larkin. There were two assistant DAs around him, and they smiled and laughed. As did Larkin, when he opened the box.

The delivery guy handed Larkin an envelope, then left.

Larkin shared out the donuts and both of the ADAs took one. No sign of Larkin’s partner, Detective Carey, but I guessed she wasn’t far away. Maybe in the bathroom. He took one of the donuts and disappeared half of it in one bite.

The big smile on the big man’s face turned into a big surprise when he opened the envelope. I don’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a note from a loved one, a family member or perhaps a kind word of encouragement from his fellow police officers in the precinct. His face said it all. Warm curiosity became confusion and then swiftly, fear.

He closed the box.

Stood.

Looked around.

I turned my attention back to the dirty floor tiles, just keeping Larkin in my peripheral vision. He put the note back into the envelope and quickly stuffed it into his inside jacket pocket.

The donuts he tossed into the trash.

It looked like the envelope had had the desired effect.

Harry strode up and said, ‘The judge is about to come back out.’

‘How’s Vanessa?’

‘She’s okay, I think. She keeps staring at the judge. Have you noticed?’

‘I haven’t been keeping an eye on her. Maybe she’s pissed that we have a partisan judge. Most people expect a fair trial. It can take a while for the reality to sink in. We need to prepare her for whatcomes next. Only way out of this is to put the blame on the husband.’

‘Things are about to get rough.’

‘The security footage looks bad. I’ve been thinking, maybe there’s a way to spin it?’

‘Is there a way to spin a wife leaving her husband’s mistress’s, apartment with what looks like the mistress’s head in a bag?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think there might be.’

47

Bloch

Split-second decisions seemed to take a long time in Bloch’s mind.

Time is relative.

With a giant killer in front of her and two armed hitmen coming for her, time was real slow.

Fire the shotgun and give away her position to the hit team.

Or . . .

Take her chances dropping the giant quickly and quietly, keeping him alive as a living witness. Someone who could testify about who hired them and why.

Only one option led to the truth.

She dropped the barrel of the shotgun as she stepped forward and then reversed her grip. The blonde giant grinned and spread his arms wide as Bloch advanced, ready to grab her. He looked strong enough to take her head off bare-handed. She held the shotgun like a club, close to her body, but instead of swinging it she ducked and lunged and then drove the stock straight up under the giant’s exposed throat.

But she wasn’t aiming for his windpipe – she wanted bone. The stock found it. This wasn’t unexpected, considering the man’s chin was the size of a porcelain sink.