Page 29 of Mafia Baby

“Who’s asking?” I don’t remember either of the faces. They’re both older than me, one male and one female, and they both look like they feel more important than they are.

The woman is pretty despite the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She looks like she’s been through it in her career, but it’s made her not take crap. The man looks like almost every other male cop I’ve ever met.

He’s aging and clearly not working the beat he wants to be assigned to. His face is tired, but also angry, and his hairline is receding horribly.

I wonder how long they’ve been watching this street, waiting to catch me in a public space where they can interrogate me without needing a warrant for my arrest. That’s something they wouldn’t get easily in this city.

“We are,” the female cop says.

“We need to ask you about a man who was murdered down the road from your apartment last week,” the man chimes in.

“Okay.” The barista hands me my coffee and I walk slowly to a booth. They follow me.

I can see the woman eyeing my tattoos. I’ve gotten one for every man I’ve killed. Sometimes they symbolize something relating to the departed souls themselves. Other times I let the artists choose a random symbol or image.

“Sources say that you were seen near the victim before he died.”

“Victim,” I scoff, taking a sip of scalding coffee.

“You don’t think a man who was hung upside down and bled out in his garage was a victim?” Lady-cop is being sassy, and it makes me smirk.

“It’s common knowledge that he was on trial for raping a teenager, and he was about to be let off,” I say directly to her, matter-of-factly.

“So killing him was better than allowing the justice system to do its work?” The man is staring me down. I don’t like him and the feeling is very obviously mutual.

“Never said that.” I keep my eyes on the woman, annoying her partner on purpose.

“No, I suppose you didn’t. Did you know him?” she continues her interrogation. I make eye contact and see her swallow.

“Nope. He was selling a microwave, and I went to check it out.”

“Did you buy it?” the partner pipes up again. He’s trying to keep control of the situation, but seems to be a lot less experienced than his partner.

“Nope. It had rust in it.” I take the lid off my coffee and stir it with a sugar stick, keeping my gaze focused on the woman in front of me.

“Right,” is all she says.

“I haven’t seen you two around. You new?” I look between them both, standing up to show I’m done with this conversation.

“We’re on temporary transfer. From a county over.” Lady cop puts her hand on her belt, caressing her gun as if she’s worried that I’ll cause trouble in a public space. I laugh internally.

“All right, well, enjoy Chicago! Great pizza down the road. Just follow the smell. And I hope you find answers for the poor dead rapist’s murder.” I smile at them and walk toward the door, waving at the barista as I leave.

As I walk back to my loft, my mind races. Vince has always had a good relationship with the cops in the city.

Even those who aren’t on our payroll respect us enough not to dig too deeply when things slip through the cracks. I’m not sure who could have seen me with my rapist neighbor, but having two new cops running around is going to get annoying.

I make a mental note to talk to Vince about having them transferred back, or getting enough dirt on them to keep them in our control.

I make another note to be more careful about potential witnesses. Even if they’re sweet old ladies who enjoy peeking out of their windows, they need to be dealt with.

As I’m about to get in the elevator in my building, my phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and see Gianna’s name.

It’s only seven at night, so she can’t be in too much trouble. I think about ignoring it for a moment, needing to focus on this police thing, but the temptation is just too much.

“Hello?”

Chapter Twelve

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