Page 47 of Deadly Target
“You tried to warn me, and I appreciate that.”
They made creaking noises as if one or both of them were fidgeting in their seat.
“Do you have the evidence?” Olivia asked.
“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Can I at least order a drink?”
Some people nearby grew loud, cheering and yelling, drowning out whatever Liv said. Victor was pretty sure it was a curse word.
“I wanna say for the record again that I had no idea you were one of the cops handling Valiant yesterday,” Alfie said.
A waitress must have appeared because Victor heard a chipper young female voice. “Hi, Alfie. About time you came around. What can I get you, hon?”
“Ah, Suzie. Looking beautiful as ever. I’ll have the porterhouse special. Keep it rare. And a beer,” Alfie added. “Whatever my friend here wants too, put it on my bill.”
“Nothing for me,” came Olivia’s reply.
Alfie huffed loud enough the microphone picked it up. “Come on, now. At least have something to drink. You’re not eating enough, I can see it. Your face is too skinny, you’re losing your nice figure.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll get this order right in,” the waitress said.
The wooden booth creaked again and Victor could see Liv leaning across the table with a threatening look on her face as she spoke. “You keep your damn eyes off my figure and stop worrying about my diet. Once I have Gino behind bars, I’ll celebrate with a big plate of pasta, okay?”
“Okay, okay. Like I said, if I’d had known you were escorting that dumbass, I would’ve showed up at the courthouse to protect you myself.”
“Right.”
“I was trying to warn you so you could catch those idiots and make them confess.”
There was a drumming sound, like Liv was thumping her knife on the tabletop. “That would’ve made things easier for you, wouldn’t it, if a couple gang members turned against Frankie? But that’s where you’re wrong. The Justice Department will still want your testimony, and I want hard evidence about Frankie’s involvement in the shooting of DEA agent Cooper Harris. Either you have it or you don’t, Alfie, and I’m getting tired of being jerked around.”
“You’re giving me indigestion and my food hasn’t even arrived. Ease up, Liv. I have the information, but you need to be careful with it.”
Like most professional criminals, the guy was good at deflecting. Victor didn’t know who to feel sorrier for—Olivia, for having to deal with this asshole, or Alfie, for the hell known as Olivia’s anger about to rain down on him if he didn’t come through.
“I don’t want to do this,” she said, the thumping growing louder, “but I will bring charges against you for impeding an investigation if you don’t cooperate.”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You are always pushy, but today, you’re really over-the-top, you know that? Is this about your old man? I heard he got cut loose today.”
There was a damning pause. Victor held his breath.
Alfie was saved as the waitress returned, apparently with the beer. “There you go, hon. Your food should be out shortly.”
“Thanks,” he said. A few seconds passed, and he spoke again to Olivia. “Would you put that knife away? You’re making me nervous.”
The thumping stopped, but Victor knew she was probably thinking about sticking it in Alfie’s eye. “This has nothing to do with my father,” Olivia said.
“All right, whatever.” The mobster must’ve taken a drink of beer, before clearing his throat. “Nobody likes Frankie, least of all the Suarez Kings, but he can get them access to large quantities of pseudoephedrine.”
“The cold medicine? For meth manufacturing?”
“He’s in good with one of the owners of a large-scale pharmaceutical company. Once a month, the guy makes a certain truck disappear from the books, so no one realizes it’s gone missing down in Mexico. It delivers a large quantity of pseudoephedrine at a Kings’ lab. Their American counterparts benefit from the product they make, and in turn, they do certain jobs for Gino.”
“Why would this guy work with Gino?”
A disgusting sigh. “He’s got a thing for young girls.”
