Page 132 of Long Gone

“No problem. Shouldn’t take long. Where will you be?”

“You can call me on my cell, but I’ll probably be at Scooter’s Tavern.”

Malcolm had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 30

When I arrived at the tavern, I walked straight up to the bar in front of Malcolm and said, “We need to talk. Now.”

He was wiping out a glass with a towel and stopped to level me with a glare so menacing a customer on a stool a few feet away shrank to the side. “I’m busy.”

“You won’t be too busy for the information I’ve just discovered.”

“About my past, you mean?” he grunted, resuming his wiping job.

“I found several things, and one of them pertains to the mysterious Pete Mooney.”

He stopped wiping and leveled his gaze on me.

I took a step back from the bar. “I’m not having this conversation out in the open. Not after what happened at my house last night. Besides, you’re the one who demanded I come over to chat.” I suspected he was being obstinate because I hadn’t come directly to heel, and I was the one doing the demanding now. James Malcolm was a man who didn’t take commands.

His forehead creased with a scowl, but he set the glass down and turned to Misti, telling her he was taking a break. Then he motioned me toward the door leading to the back.

He was already in the hall that led to his office by the time I’d gone through the door. We were both silent until he’d shut us into the office.

“What do you supposedly know about Pete Mooney?” he asked, his voice tight.

“I had lunch at the café, and Betty, who’s both an owner and a waitress, remembers him.”

Some of his anger faded. “Remembers him how?”

“She says he was in the café around the time Hugo was alive, and she saw them eat together once.”

He moved to his desk and leaned his butt against the edge. “So? We already knew he was an investor. It stands to reason he’d meet with Burton to discuss the project.”

“True, but that doesn’t explain why Betty saw him carrying boxes out of Hugo’s office building the day after Hugo disappeared.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent.

“This ties Pete Mooney to J.R. Simmons,” I said emphatically. “Who ordered my father to let someone into Hugo’s office the day after his disappearance.”

He pushed away from the desk, his agitation back. “Hold up. You told me your father didn’t remember what he did with Burton’s office shit. Now you’re telling me Simmons ordered him to let someone in there?”

Oh. Shit. He was right. I’d withheld that piece of information.

His body went rigid. “I think you need to level with me. Now.”

“That’s a two-way street, Malcolm. You need to level with me about what happened with J.R. Simmons in Fenton County.”

His expression was deadly before he walked over to his dry bar and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to me. “Sit.” It was an order. I was tempted to tell him to fuck off, but something about the way he handed me the drink suggested he was going to share some of his secrets, so I sat on the sofa as he lowered his large frame into the armchair across from me.

He took a sip of his drink, then lowered the glass to the arm of his chair, holding it with his fingertips around the top. His bluster faded as he said, “Some of my past is a secret for a reason.”

When he remained quiet, I changed tactics. “Why were you working with the girlfriend of the assistant district attorney? How did that come about?”

“Just because we’re working this case together doesn’t give you the right to know about all of my past. Let’s just say she and I had goals that intersected. She was trying to protect her then-boyfriend, Mason Deveraux, the assistant DA in Fenton County, and I was trying to bring down J.R. Simmons. We decided to pool our resources and deal with him together.”

I shook my head. “How did that arrangement even come about? You both must have run in very different circles, and why would bringing down Simmons protect Deveraux?”

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