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“I’ll wait outside.” Griner sighs, but as he rises, my husband narrows his gaze and points.
“Oh no, ya don’t. We want a safe room, a cup of coffee, and some sandwiches. Pickles would be nice and bring some potato chips. Wait, do you want anything, sugar?”
“They can make me a grilled cheese with sharp mustard and butter.” At the mention of food, my stomach grumbles and hunger pangs remind me I’m with child. “Better make it two.”
Theagent heads for thedoor, and I block his path. Opening my wallet, I hand him a card. “You might want to give Assistant FBI Director Izuki a calland explain to himwhy my report will be delayed. And please call my dad if you wouldn’t mind? Captain Michael Sutcliff? I believe you’ve met. Oh yeah, one other person might want to know where we are… Grayson Patten of Patten Securities.We also work for him on occasion.”
The man grumbles. “Any other names you’d like to drop?”
“The President?” At my dismal attempt to flutter my lashes, the short, bald man tilts his head.
“What’s wrong? You got something in your eye?”
Dammit. Where’s a baseball bat when you need it?
Chapter 14
Suds
Griner walks us down a gray cinderblock hall to a conference room, big enough for one table and four folding chairs.
Once we sit, Ursula sighs, glances at her phone, and taps her toe. “You neglected to mention you stole evidence from an active crime scene.”
“That’s because I didn’t. The shooting started as I was diggin’ out the slug. Then, the FBI told us to vacate the premises, so we did. To tell the truth, I forgot all about it until much later.” While I speak, I can’t help but wonder. Did finding the bullet trigger everything that came after?
“Is there anything else I should know?” Our counselor’s tone suggests she thinks we’re holding back.
Shrugging, my wife shakes her head, no, and looks to me, but as far as I can recall, I haven’t left anything out. “Ma’am, as I explained before, we gave the bullet to Patten Securities, who mentioned it might’ve been associated with a cold case. Seein’ how we are private investigators, that’s what we were doin’ when we found the body.”
“Understood.” Standing, Ursula raps sharply on the door. “My client is ready to explain how they found Mr. Vaporella’s placeofresidence.”
At Samantha’s snicker, I raise my brows in a question, and she pulls my ear to her mouth. “Stanley Steamer? It’s a totally fake name.”
Eyes merry, sharing our private joke, we walk back to the first room. Sam ignores the coffee but digs into her grilled cheese. The only other time my wife said no to caffeine was when she was expecting Mikey. My heart soars but I also question why she hasn’t shared the news. Did the doctor say something was wrong, and she didn’t want to upset me?
With yet another reason to end this farce, I speak at three times my normal speed. “So, we bought a tree. Did I mention it had a dismembered finger in it? Lordy, I tried to give the odorific digit to the police, but they didn’t want it. Like me, they figured some poor slob lopped it off while cutting the trunk. Regardless, my wife here wanted her money back, on account of the stench, so we went looking for Howie Matteo, the seller. Mr. Matteo cannot be located, or so we’ve been told. His wife don’t miss him and says he’s probably in hiding which is why we had to keep searching and ended up at the warehouse. While we was lookin’ around, I saw this spent ammunition in the floor and dug it out. Now, before you ask me why I didn’t give it to the FBI, y’all demanded we leave the premises immediately, which, bein’ law abidin’ citizens and not wantin’ to lose our PI licenses, we did.”
Griner pops a pink antacid into his mouth. “The bullet, Mr. Sutcliff? Where is it?”
“I jes’ told you. I removed it from the warehouse.” Crossing my arms, and jutting out my chin, I bite down on my tongue. Not-rambling is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be.
Veins pulse on the Fed’s forehead. “It’s my evidence and I want it back.”
“No sir, it ain’t.” Placing my palms on the tabletop, I stand, and lean across the table.
He copies me. “Are you saying it wasn’t a crime to shoot at you?”
Inhaling his strawberry stomach soother, I narrow my gaze. “Yes sir, now that’sa crime, but I retrieved the metal afore they started shooting. For all I know, someone could’ve been using the door as target practice, and missed.”
“Do not try to play me, Sutcliff.” The short, bald man froths at the mouth.
Stepping back, I turn to my lawyer. “Ms. Brownsberry, I am being one hundred percent accurate and forthright, am I not?”
She nods. “Yes, you are. Special Agent Griner, please refrain from shouting at my client. Do you wish to ask him any more questions?”
“Yes. How did the slug lead you to the dead man?” Because of his disrespect, I’m feelin’ a mite passive aggressive.
“I’m so sorry for over-reacting. Mywife, here, is a delicate flower and she don’t take well to hysterics.”
