Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (read aloud books TXT) 📗

eyes and buried her face in her hands. “Listen, sir, Dehan and I have been discussing the case, and we had a talk with Chad Norris, we think it isn’t as clear cut as…”

“You know, John, I am sure you’re right, but there is more to be taken into account here than the minutiae of precisely what happened, how, where and when. Not least is Lenny’s wife and kids, who face a very harrowing time ahead. There is the impact on the department itself: questions will be asked by the media and also at a very senior level of the department, about how this could have happened, on my watch, and this will not be an easy time for me either.”

“I understand that, sir, but the point is, we think its possible that, though Lenny was having an affair with Celeste…”

“A girl who thankfully was of age, but barely so, and he in his late forties, old enough to be her father. The press will have a field day and the last thing we need, John, is accusations of a cover up or attempting to whitewash this case. We need to be upfront, transparent and honest. Heaven knows we do our best, but they don’t realize it is impossible to one hundred percent eradicate corruption. Policemen and women are people, after all, at the end of the day!”

“Sir…”

“We are going to close the case, John. You and Dehan have, as always, done exceptional work. It is a shame that the guilty party was one of our own. But we must be brave and face it down.”

“Sir…”

“Yes, John.”

“I don’t think Lenny did it.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I appreciate that, John, but we just have to roll with this one.”

“No, I don’t think you understand, sir. We are actually convinced that Lenny did not do it. He couldn’t have…”

“John, the case is closed. I’ve had someone notify Mrs. Davis. We’ll keep our heads down and with a little luck, the storm will blow over.”

“Sir…?”

“Take a few days off, and I’ll see you back here next week.”

He hung up.

Dehan was looking at me with her hands in front of her mouth like she was praying. I could see the tears in her eyes. I said, “You OK?”

She nodded once, then asked, “What’s going on?”

“The inspector closed the case. Lenny goes down as a murderer, and his wife and kids have to live with that.” I shook my head. “He was a rat and a cheat, and I don’t condone what he did, but he wasn’t a murderer.”

She sighed and her breath was a little unsteady. “He almost was, John.”

I shook my head again, more emphatically. “No, Dehan, and I speak as his intended victim. Celeste was murdered. In the airport, he believed he was fighting for his life. What he did was stupid, but it wasn’t murder in the way that Celeste was murder.”

She frowned at me for a long time. “That’s a discussion that will have to wait for a bottle of wine and a couple of whiskeys in front of the fire. Right now, we have a chief who is about to make a very serious mistake. What are we going to do about it?”

“He’s put us on leave till next week. What we are going to do is ignore him.”

“How?

I grunted. “We could start by going to give the Reynolds the news.”

She screwed up her nose and thought about it. “Provoke Sam into discussing his sister? Get him really mad and see if he admits it?”

I shrugged with my eyebrows. “As a family, they are not hard to provoke. You could leave me alone with the dad and take Samuel off to one side, talk to him in confidence about Lenny, make him feel that you would understand how somebody might feel with a sister like that…”

“It could work, but it’s a real long shot. He’s not big at opening up with women, either. May be better if you spoke to him.” She jerked her head at my phone. “What was the email?”

“Probably another list of names from the riverside businesses. I’ve had three so far and the names mean nothing.” I pulled out my phone and opened the message. I started to read, frowning. “Blackstone’s Builders, no job too big or too small…”

“Spam?”

I shook my head. “No, I was looking into extending the house into the backyard…” I looked up at her. “You know, for the kid’s room.”

She gaped and I laughed. “I don’t know what it is, let me read it. “Dear Detective Stone, further to your yadda yadda, attached is a list—another list of personnel.” I glanced at her. She was still gaping, but now she was smiling, too. “Four down, only ninety-six to go. P. O’Mally, E. Brown, J. Fenlon, W. Codey, C. Clay, nana, nana, nana…” I skipped through the names. There were about thirty of them. Then near the end, I saw it. I slid the phone across the table to Dehan. She read it out loud:

“…S. Reynolds.”

“Let’s go talk to them.”

* * *

Blackstone’s Builders was on Bronx River Avenue, a hundred and fifty yards from Westchester Avenue Bridge. It consisted of a big yard, maybe a hundred and fifty feet across and seventy-five or a hundred feet deep. It was fenced off from the road with a chain-link fence, but the other three walls were improvised out of sheets of corrugated steel that had started going rusty, and the far wall was overgrown with bramble and trees reaching over from the river bank beyond.

The yard was strewn with building materials and there were several trucks, a long warehouse and, in the far right corner, a two story building that overlooked the site. It was made of wood and had an outside staircase leading to the upper