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“No.”
“Don’t make me tell you again.” He bumped my chest with his, growling and angry.
I pushed him away and turned to Savannah.
“Look, I know you know Beck has some kind of hard-on for you or your family or the Ashby family, but if I bring her back, she won’t be asking and certainly not nicely. I just want to know what you can tell me about Mueller.”
“Charlie. Relax, I’m okay,” Savannah admonished, her tone gentle and affectionate, her gaze filled with nothing but love for my brother.
I turned to Charlie, not intimidated by the angry gaze he threw at me. “Bro, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but we’re talking about a double murder. This shit isn’t going to go away. The feds see two upstanding citizens gunned down for no reason. Everybody has to answer questions.”
“Have a seat, Jameson and ask your questions.” Savannah gestured for my brother to calm down, and he stood behind her like a bodyguard.
“Were you serious the other day when you said you thought Mueller might be a cop or were you just trying to get a rise out of Beck?”
It was something that stuck with me, more so when I couldn’t find much on Mueller past twelve years ago.
“A little of both, actually. Something beyond the sex trade business was going on with him, and I never knew what. Still, given the family business, a cop is always a safe assumption.”
“Good point. Anything else?”
She nodded. “Yeah, there was something about him I couldn’t quite figure out. Sometimes I got the impression he was more than a crooked priest with nasty habits.”
“Anything specific?”
Charlie opened his mouth to speak, and I blew out my irritation in a loud sigh. “Jesus Christ, Charlie. I’m your brother. There’s nothing you’ll have to corroborate or testify, just anything that might point me in a helpful direction.”
Savannah remained cool and calm. “Nothing all that specific anyway, just that Ronan got away with things he shouldn’t have. Things that no one is connected enough to get around. He should have done at least a few years in all the years he did business, but he never did. Neither did Mueller.”
“Until now,” I reminded her.
“Until now,” she echoed. “And now the tri-city area is crawling with Feds and I’m curious why.”
I stroked my chin, a grim reminder that I’d skipped my Monday morning shave in my hurry to question Savannah.
“Me too, Savannah. So far, they’re being really tight-lipped on that particular detail.” I got up from the chair and flashed a grateful smile at her. “Thanks for answering my questions.”
“No problem, Jameson. I’m happy to help.” I started toward the door when she called out to me. “It’s not me Beck has a hard-on for. It’s the Ashby family. She offered to help me in exchange for dirt on them. Keep an eye on her. And watch out for your girl, Madison.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Savannah.” I didn’t spare a glance for my brother before exiting the office and then the building, wondering what I was missing about Mueller. I’d keep digging until I found answers, no matter who it pissed off.
“Where have you been?” Beck pounced as soon as I walked into the precinct, an eager little pup nipping at my feet with an excited smile on her face.
“Checking out some leads. Why are you smiling? What did you find?”
“Not me. Marshall. Come on.” I followed her down the dark hall with the flickering light and into the room commandeered by the Feds. “A little bit of his old-fashioned gumshoe detective work and he uncovered video footage of Mueller and Sadie Ashby having what looks to be a romantic dinner.” Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement and a fair bit of happiness.
I watched the footage with extreme focus. She was right, it did look like they were having a romantic dinner, but maybe that was just the setting: a nice Italian restaurant with dim lights and candles on the tables.
“It’s not that unheard of that they might do business together if he’s dirty, right?”
Beck deflated but only a little. “Of course not, but this gives us a good reason to question the woman. Maybe even search the manor.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Beck. No judge is going to approve a search warrant based on this footage,” Marshall warned, his tone even and confident, like a man who knew what he was talking about.
“I know, but if we just show up to question her, anything could happen.”
While Beck and Marshall bickered back and forth, I wondered if I should give Madison a heads up that the Feds were going to Ashby Manor and that they were going to wait until the sun went down to show up. Instead, I opted to text an invite.
Jameson: Dinner tonight? I’m buying.
