“You were in there for two hours,” Kit said. “That’s all you got?”
Joel scowled at her. “I wastryingto get you more. Daly zipped his lips and wouldn’t say another word, so I finally gave up and wrote the deal as is.”
“So wait,” Marshall said. “If we’re not allowed to ask Daly about his crime, doesn’t he know it’ll come to light anyway once we get to Neckbeard and that list?”
Joel sighed again. “It won’t matter. I’ve granted him transactional immunity.”
Kit sucked in a surprised breath because that was a super big deal. “What?”
“What the fuck?” Ashton asked at the same time.
The others made similar noises of stunned surprise.
Normally Joel only gave immunity for future prosecution resulting from whatever evidence the suspect provided. Transactional was more like blanket immunity. He couldn’t be tried for any crimes related to Munro’s murder or the blackmail.
“I know, I know.” Joel rubbed his temples. “I’ve worked withDaly’s attorney in the past. He’s good and he’s honest. He assured me that Daly’s information was worth it, and that the crime he was being blackmailed for would only get him five to ten, max. The blackmail was mostly so that Daly’s customers didn’t find out what he’d done because he’d lose his business. I’ve made sure to include that if Daly was responsible for any assault, murder, any physical harm to any human, that the deal is void.” He looked from Kit to Connor. “So make this good, Detectives.”
“Now the two hours this took makes more sense,” Sam said kindly. “Finish your food, Joel. And take two of these.” He pulled a bottle of pain reliever from his pocket. “You’ll feel better.”
And there went Sam again, making people feel better.
“Thanks, bro.” Joel took the pills, then returned his attention to Kit and Connor. “Do you have a list of questions for him?”
Kit handed him her phone. “These so far. Mostly how they communicated with each other, who did what, and where they did it. We still haven’t found the trailer. Or that damn Ferrari.”
Joel scanned the list. “These are all permissible questions. Good luck.”
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Wednesday, January 11, 8:35 p.m.
Kit and Connor took seats across the table from Simon Daly and his attorney. Daly appeared pale but resolute as he stared Kit in the eye defiantly.
“We have a deal in place,” Kit said. “How long were you blackmailed by Munro?”
“Three years,” Daly said. “Started out as ten grand a month, went up to twenty in year two and thirty in year three.”
“Steep,” Connor noted. “How did you afford it?”
Daly gave Connor aduhlook. “I’m richer than your parents by a factor of ten. I could afford it.”
Connor didn’t look offended. “Yet you sold your Maserati.”
Daly lifted a shoulder. “By the end, I was getting a little short.”
“Short in money, temper, or both?” Kit asked.
“Both,” Daly admitted. “But I did not kill him. I never laid a hand on him.”
Kit watched his face carefully, grateful that behind the glass, Sam was doing the same. Never hurt to have another pair of eyes. “But you know who did.”
“I know who talked about it,” Daly said. “I never thought they’d do it.”
“Who is they?” Connor asked.
Daly slid a sheet of paper across the table. “Names.”
Okay, then,Kit thought. Maybe the transactional immunity had been worth it.