AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Margot smiled weakly at her, and I went back to my conversation with Molly as I pushed my clean plate away because licking the rest of the butter off it would be low class, and we already had Faye for that. “Moll, why am I going to freak out about Cash turning the factory into a Burney museum?”
“Oh.” Molly looked up from her phone where she had probably been texting Rain. I did wonder how Rain felt about affectionate texts during the day, but since the woman was a mystery to me, I figured she and Molly could work that out. “It’s not because he’s turning it into a museum, although that does seem like sucking up to the town, doesn’t it? No, it’s because part of the museum will be the room where you shot Mickey Pitts and ended the arsons. Cash is making you the woman who saved Burney complete with a life-size wax model display of both you and Mickey at the critical moment—”
She stopped because I was up, grabbing my laptop bag on my way out the door to strangle Cash Porter.
The last thing I heard as I went out was Peri saying, “She freaked out, Molly. Now you have to take me to swim class.”
CHAPTER 4
When I got downstairs, George was cleaning out his office. After over thirty years, there was a lot of stuff. Nickknacks, plaques, pictures on the wall with luminaries I didn’t recognize since I wasn’t from this neck of the woods. Senator Amy Wilcox was not one of them. Nor was her deceased husband, Senator Alex Wilcox, Sr., whose seat she’d readily won after his death. George was dumping the stuff in a large cardboard box and had a couple more beside it. A lifetime of service being crated up.
I stood outside, looking through the large window that oversaw the department, uncertain what to do. It seemed a personal thing that I didn’t want to interrupt. So I thought about who I’d have to hurt to get him his badge back.
Conveniently, Bartlett walked up.
“What exactlyareyou working on, Detective Cooper? You never keep me filled in on things. That has to change, of course, now that I’m chief.”
I’d boxed Golden Gloves as a kid in the Bronx, spent eight years in the Rangers with multiple combat deployments, and four in the NYPD on the tough streets of the Big Apple, so I knew how to hurt someone. I figured an unkind word would do the youngster in. But I was watching George and he was right. I had to walk this tightrope.
I knew Anemone had been trying to talk George into running for mayor again in three months, and Anemone usually got what she wanted. And once George was mayor, things would get back to normal. I’d spent longer than that deployed overseas with people trying to kill me. I could put up with Bartlett for that long. Maybe.
“Sure, Chief,” I said, almost gagging on the last word. “Top of the in-box? Felony theft of construction material at the new development last week. Whoever it was hauled off a lot of lumber. That stuff is expensive.” Which is why I was knocking out the dry wall but being careful not to hurt the studs in the new old Big Chef addition. It was harder than it appeared.
Bartlett raised a pale eyebrow. “Any leads? Probably some Over-the-Hill person.”
I hate when people ask a question and try to supply the answer at the same time, especially when the answer is from an elitist bigot. He made those from the poorer part of town sound like the Mole People instead of just the folks who lived in the hills and hollers far from the river.
I burst Bartlett’s bubble. “I’m leaning more toward one of the contract workers that Vermillion Inc. hired. Or, more likely, the Iron Wolves.” The latter were our outlaw motorcycle gang. Because doesn’t every place have an outlaw motorcycle gang? Actually, the Iron Wolves had chapters all over the Rust Belt, so Burney wasn’t special.
Bartlett shook his head and gave me his hard-earned one-year-in-the-state-police advice: “Detective Cooper, you have to keep your mind open to possibilities. It’s as likely that someone from town committed the burglary. There does seem to be some animosity toward Cash Porter and Vermillion Inc.”
“If someone from town did it,” I said, “Cash Porter would have given us the surveillance footage from the development for the night in question. There are cameras set up all over the place for just that reason. It’s standard practice to protect material at construction sites. Someone needed a truck to haul off what was stolen. That would have definitely been recorded.”
Bartlett was confused. “But why would he report it if he wants to cover it up?”
I took pity on the ignorant and explained. “Cash reported the theft for insurance purposes to get Vermillion Inc reimbursed but is withholding the tape because it was one of his own people or someone he doesn’t want to piss off. He claims the system had a malfunction the night in question. Which is too convenient.”
Bartlett took a few seconds to process that, then added his insight: “Oh.”
George had crammed a lot of stuff in the box, but there was more, and he looked about with a sad smile on his face, lost in memories. I turned away because his eyes were glistening.
“Hey, Chief,” I said to Bartlett, still feeling like a traitor for using that title. “How about we take a ride out to the development? You can talk to Cash, see what he gives up. You asking would carry a lot more weight than me.”
Bartlett nodded, buying that fantasy without batting an eye, and turned away from the glass. Apparently, he wasn’t one of those who had to watch the spoils of his win to get his rocks off. Plus, we’d never left the office together on a case, so he probably saw that as evidence I was ready to follow him.
We took the Gladiator because I’d seen Bartlett walking around it in the parking lot several times with obvious auto envy. Plus, he drove a PT Cruiser and I’d rather be dead than ride in one of those.
As I drove out of town, Bartlett was toying with his new badge, which I was determined would not be his for long.
“You know, Detective Cooper,” he began and I decided enough was enough.
“It’s Vince, okay?”
He nodded. “Sure. Vince.” He said it tentatively as if trying to decide if this made us blood brothers or something.
I waited, then prompted. “I know what?”
“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I was thinking about Thacker’s death the other day.” He went silent.
