Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (motivational novels TXT) 📗

store take off through the back door behind the counter. Junior leapt over the counter after him, and I took off out the front door. Luckily for us, the streets weren’t as congested as they usually were, so there was no crowd for him to slip into.

I spotted him almost immediately and gave chase. The man was tall and had a long stride, but I could tell that he was out of shape. He began slowing down after just a few seconds of running, and I quickly caught up with him. I tackled him to the ground, and Junior was there just a moment later to help me handcuff him.

“I didn’t do anything!” The man yelled angrily as I pulled him to his feet.

“Then why did you run?” I asked, a little sore and out of breath from the chase. I was still wearing the same clothes I’d gotten soaked in, and the chill had settled into my muscles and was causing them to ache.

“You were chasing me, that’s why!” the man retorted.

I rolled my eyes and looked over at Junior. It was like we went through the same script with half the suspects we apprehended. I was about to make a joke about it when I noticed my partner was grimacing and pressing his right hand against his left shoulder.

“You okay?” I asked him. The shopkeeper attempted to pull himself free of my grasp, and I tightened my grip around his arms.

“I’m fine,” he replied as he quickly dropped his hand away from his shoulder. “I think I just twisted my arm a little when he was struggling while I was trying to get the cuffs on him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I responded. I wasn’t entirely convinced, but the shopkeeper was thrashing around and demanding all of my attention.

Junior and I dragged him back to the small shop between the two of us. I noticed at once that the kid was gone. He must have run while we were chasing down the store owner.

“Stupid pigs!” The store owner spat. “You don’t have any proof I’ve broken the law!”

“Yeah, okay,” I rolled my eyes as I pushed the store owner back onto the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. “You always make your teenage employees hide the evidence of your crimes? Or was this just a one-off?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man growled.

“No one ever does,” Junior grumbled as he walked toward the back of the store, where the bottles were scattered all over the ground. He held one up to the man. “So you’re saying that you don’t know what’s in these?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes went wide.

“No,” he replied. “Well, yes, now I do. After I saw that press conference, I told Travon to throw them all out. I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

“So why did you run?” Junior asked skeptically. “We were only here to ask you about where you got the bottles, but you panicked and took off as soon as you noticed Agent Hills speaking with your employee. Why is that?”

“Well, I…” the man sputtered as he tried to come up with a reasonable-sounding excuse.

“Daniel Clive?” I read aloud off a liquor license mounted on the wall. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he stuttered. “But I didn’t do anything. In fact, I want a lawyer!”

“You’re going to need one,” I sneered. “Do you understand how this case is being handled right now? As a terrorist attack. The FDA doesn’t take the tampering of medical supplies lightly, Mr. Clive. Are you certain you don’t want to speak with us?”

“I’m not a terrorist!” he protested angrily. “I was just trying to save a few bucks! Times are hard right now, you know? You can’t blame a man for trying to do what he can to scrape by.”

“What do you mean by trying to save a few bucks?” Junior prompted.

Clive’s face went white as he realized he’d slipped. He looked as though he might argue but then changed his mind.

“I bought those bottles at a discount,” he admitted reluctantly. “Medicine is expensive. I got an offer to buy bulk supplies at a huge discount, so I took it. I didn’t think people were going to get hurt.”

“Where did you get the offer from?” Junior asked.

“Some liquidation place,” Clive shrugged. “I get emails all the time from people trying to sell me stuff. Business licenses are all public knowledge, you know? Anyone can look up your email and address and send you spam mail. Anyway, one email I got was from this liquidation place that said they buy product from places going out of business and resell it at a discount. The cough syrup isn’t the only stuff they sent me. I got bandages, rubbing alcohol, all that stuff too. The cough syrup’s been selling the most, though, seeing as how the weather’s gotten colder and everyone’s coming down with the flu.”

“So this company sought you out specifically?” Junior asked slowly. I understood where he was heading with that question. It seemed that Clive hadn’t gone out of his way to obtain the bottles. Instead, someone else had gone through a lot of trouble to ensure they’d end up here.

“I guess,” Clive shrugged. “That’s why I panicked. When the feds showed up right after that press conference, I figured they must be fakes or something, and I was about to get blamed for everything. I swear, though, I never meant to hurt anyone. They look just like the real thing! I’ve been running this store for almost ten years now. I would never have given those bottles a second look.”

“Do you still have the box the supplies arrived in?” I asked. If he did, we might be able to get a return address.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s in the backroom. It just arrived a month ago, so I haven’t used everything yet. I guess I should have known something was up when I saw that the package had been shipped here from Ireland.”

“Ireland?!” Junior and I both exclaimed in unison.

“Yeah,”