Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (top 5 ebook reader .txt) 📗

what would happen next would be that Emma would hand me the gun, but I guess I was a bit stupid, too. Instead, she reached out like she was reaching for a pack of cigarettes. Both Geronimo and Ronaldo frowned at her hand, like they were mildly surprised. She picked it up calmly and deliberately, pointed it at Ronaldo, and shot him in the heart. Then without losing her composure, she turned it on Geronimo.

He screamed again and threw the table up and over so that it crashed against Emma, knocking her off her chair. Next thing, he was flying at me like a quarterback. He piled into me, ramming me against the wall and knocking all the wind out of me. I fell to the floor gasping, and he was off again, sprinting across the floor with astonishing agility. As I staggered to my feet, Emma scrambled out from under the table. She screamed a scream of pure rage and sprinted past me, after dos Santos.

I made after her, but my lungs were in spasm and my head was reeling. She was up the stairs onto the mezzanine floor, and I heard the front door slam. I followed and she skidded out into the hall. I shouted after her, “Emma! No!” But she wasn’t listening. She had one thought in her mind and one thought only.

She wrenched open the front door. Outside in the moonlight, I heard a car door slam. On the porch, I saw her straddle her legs and take aim. I heard tires scream, and I hurled myself at her. The gun cracked twice before I collided with her and threw her to the ground.

She clambered to her feet, training the gun on me. Her eyes were wide, and she looked really crazy. I shouted at her, “Are you crazy? Are you nuts? What have you done?”

“Stay away from me!”

There was a second car, a Mercedes convertible. She backed toward it, with the gun still trained on me. She climbed in and I watched her fire up the engine and take off at speed after dos Santos.

I stood watching her taillights vanish up the road in the pale moonlight. My head was reeling. We’d had him. What she’d done didn’t make any sense.

Unless…

I went inside and scoured the house for my gun and my phone. After twenty minutes, I found my gun in Ronaldo’s waistband out on the porch. Even now, staring up at the translucent sky, he looked more bemused than surprised. My phone I eventually found in plain sight, sitting on a coffee table in the living room.

The bar was easier to find. I poured myself a stiff whiskey and phoned Dehan.

“Stone! What the hell is happening?”

“Nothing good.”

“Why did you stand us down?”

“I didn’t. Believe it or not, I was drugged. He took my phone and sent you the message.”

“Dos Santos?”

“Yeah, he is one devious son of a bitch.”

“Holy shit!”

“Tell me about it. I need you to come and get me. I also need a CSI team and the ME. There has been another homicide. The captain’s going to have to liaise with the local precinct.”

“Oh, he is going to love you.”

“I’m not too fond of me myself, right now. I can’t believe I got suckered like that.”

“He’s a slippery customer.”

“They’re both as crazy as a box of frogs.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

Twenty-Four

We got home to my place just after four in the morning. She sat me at the table and examined the damage.

“Boy, Stone, you look like somebody set fire to your face and put it out with a brick.”

“Thanks. You’re beautiful too.”

“There are no cuts, though. It’s just bruises.”

“Is that all?”

She nodded. “You must have a pretty hard face.”

“Yeah, it’s the way I was raised. Every time I was bad, my mother would set fire to my face and beat it out with a brick.”

She giggled. It was an odd thing to see in her.

I smiled. “You going to just sit there gawping at me, or are you going to pour me a drink?”

“Coffee laced with whiskey is what you need.”

“Sounds about right.”

She got up and went to the kitchen.

“You know, I keep going over it again and again in my mind. We had him. He was going to pay, God knows how much, millions. I had him hooked, and he had no way out but to pay and sign that damned confession. She and Tammy were home and dry. And she just reaches over, picks up the gun, and blows Ronaldo away. Why would she do that, Dehan?”

She was quiet, making the coffee. When it started gurgling, she sighed and looked at me. “I forget who said it, but there is a quote by some wiseass about how if you want to know a person’s intentions, you should ignore their words and look at their actions. So from that perspective, there is only one answer to your question. She would do that because she wanted them dead.”

I sat, turning what she’d just said over in my head. It was so clear.

“That’s right. That is absolutely right. She wanted dos Santos dead. That was exactly what she wanted.”

She looked at me curiously. “Is that surprising?”

“Not really. But it’s like one of those pictures where it looks like a scowling old man, and when you just change your perspective, suddenly it looks like a beautiful young woman. Suddenly, I see the other picture, and it all makes sense.”

“Glad I could help.”

“We have a long day ahead of us, Dehan. Let’s get some bacon and mushrooms going, and a couple of eggs. I have a lot to explain to you, and then we need to make a plan.”

So she gave us two more