Nickel City Crossfire by Gary Ross (popular romance novels .txt) 📗

“Sir, I don’t recall ever meeting you. Yet you know who I am. I find that curious.”

“I really don’t care what you find curious, Mr. Rimes.” He threw his shoulders back a bit and took a breath. “I’m here to see my client. I want to know where he’s being held.”

“Does your client have a name this time, Mr. Graves?”

He said nothing. I was unable to read him. Was he stunned I knew his name and that he hadn’t known Felicity’s? Was he pleased his billboards all over town were working? Or maybe he was pissed off I had told Loni he would pay for associating with her.

“Do you find something curious, Mr. Graves?” I asked.

“Where is Detective Piñero?”

“Not at his desk,” I said. “But you must have noticed that already, the observant lawyer that you are. If you’d like to leave a message, I’m sure you have something to write with inside that fancy double-buckle briefcase.” I sat back down and returned to my cell phone.

Setting down his briefcase, Graves parked half his butt on the corner of the desk and glared down at me.

“You know, Rimes, you may think you’re a tough guy, wearing a bandage on your face like it’s a medal. But you’re going to be in a lot of trouble before I’m through with you.”

I wanted to offer him the opportunity to wear a bandage, but I held my tongue.

“You assaulted at least two people, a man and a woman,” Graves continued. “You broke both their noses, I imagine with some signature martial arts move. The woman says you tried to rape her. You discharged a gun on a public highway, causing a fatal crash. Add to that breaking into and entering a private home. All this without a shred of legal authority.”

“You already know about the broken nose and the expressway shootout,” I said. “She didn’t when I left the house, so somebody must have talked to her before she talked to you.”

Graves snorted. “When this whole affair is over—”

“What affair? Loni and Tito’s? Or are you screwing Loni too? Does Rosalind know?”

Graves stood, fists clenched at his sides. Loni had given him enough to identify me but not enough to let him know he couldn’t frighten me. Now he was unsure what to do. I hoped he would take a swing at me. But he stood there seething, cheeks darkening and flaring nostrils the only part of his body that moved.

“Whatever this affair is, my part is finished,” I said. “I found my clients’ daughter and got my car shot up and totaled in the process. I did my civic duty and gave police information I thought was evidence of a criminal enterprise. They don’t need me anymore.” I brushed my hands together a couple of times as if ridding myself of dirt. “You want to push the B&E thing, go ahead. With him dead, cops are gonna search Tito’s house sooner or later. They’ll find more than I did unless you give your client time to clear it out. If you think you can bring it up without implicating yourself—” I sat back and folded my arms. “You should tell Loni Markham the puzzle pieces are falling into place. She and her brother should get out while they can.”

“Her brother?” Graves looked confused. “Since when does she have a brother?”

“It was something she kept need-to-know,” I said. “Apparently, you weren’t on the list. So sorry, old man. But thanks for confirming she’s the one who sent you.”

“You’re not as clever as you think, Rimes.”

Just then a cluster of suits and uniforms emerged from a conference room across the hall. They stood near the squad room door, talking, shaking hands. A Buffalo police captain the size of a fullback and four other officers were in uniform. Three men and two women wore suits and carried briefcases. Chalmers, Piñero, Pete Kim, a man with a badge on his belt, and a woman with a badge on a neck chain rounded out the group. The captain, two of the uniformed officers, and the mix I thought must be lawyers and city officials moved out of sight down the hall. The detectives and two remaining uniforms came toward Graves and me. Having shared time on the other side of a two-way mirror, Kim and I exchanged nods.

“Detective Piñero,” Graves said. “I’m here to see my client, Delano Madden.”

Chalmers and Piñero exchanged looks.

“Didn’t Madden have counsel?” Chalmers asked.

“I thought so,” Piñero said. “Sarah Dockery, right?”

“Yes. She’s the one negotiating his…proposed deal.”

“If she wasn’t his lawyer, then who the hell was she?” Piñero feigned shock. “She sure seemed to know an awful lot about the law. My God, we’ve been fooled again!”

“Don’t quit your day jobs,” Graves said. “I’d like to see Mr. Madden, now.”

“You must not have heard us.” Chalmers leaned close to Graves for a moment. “Mr. Madden has an attorney.”

“Dockery is a public defender. She was simply holding a chair until I could get here.”

“Did she know that?” Piñero said. “Let me ask her. She might still be at the elevator.”

“Ask her if she told him about Madden’s nose,” I said. “Somebody did.”

“No shit?” Chalmers said. “He knew?”

“Knew I did it.”

“Damn.” Chalmers leaned close again. “Who told you about Madden’s nose?”

Graves sputtered something unintelligible but full of pomp and indignity.

“Ask him who sent him to claim the client,” I said. “Ask him if he even knows Madden. Something tells me this guy couldn’t pick Butch out of a crowd of two.”

“Have you ever met Mr. Madden, counselor?” Chalmers asked.

“Well…”

“A yes or no answer.”

Graves hissed and turned to me again. “When I lodge my complaint with your superiors,” he said over his shoulder to Chalmers, “I’ll be sure to include that you’re now taking orders from a civilian with a PI license. That is certainly a breach—”

“Not a civilian,” Piñero said. “A retired investigator turned independent contractor. He’s on retainer with the mayor’s office. He works