Page 115 of Cash

“I’m good, I promise.” Brick waited for Jules to put him down before he dried his eyes and tried to make himself presentable. “Where should we…?”

“Just over there is fine.” Cutter waved at the couch.

Brick flopped back down where he’d been sitting before, and he smiled when Jules sat beside him and then immediately pulled him into his lap. “Okay, uh, so. Ramp showed up, asked me a bunch of weird questions about Trixie, and then he apparently tried to kill me and Junior? But I don’t know why? I mean, I think I do, but not exactly.”

“Why do you think he wanted to kill you?” Cutter asked.

“This.” Brick wiggled his hand into his pocket to bring out the receipt to show Cutter. “I know what it means now. Trixie had written down the date and time that Ramp claimed to have gone to Madame Kimchi’s Kitchen, which also happens to be the day Mr. Finch was murdered. Only problem is that the twelfth was a Wednesday, and the restaurant is only open on the weekends.”

“Son of a bitch.” Cutter scowled. “I was there on scene talking to the Finches the night Mr. Finch died. They were in a damn tizzy about the funeral, and Mr. Ramp showed up while I was trying to question them to make arrangements. Finchie came in right after that, and I asked that slick little shit where he’d been. Mr. Ramp was happy to tell everybody they’d just finished having dinner and Finchie had stayed behind to take care of the bill.”

“He gave Finchie an alibi,” Brick realized.

“Yup. A shitty one at that. I knew it was bullshit. I wrote down the name of the restaurant, that Kimchi place, to check out later. When the ME ruled Mr. Finch’s death a suicide, however, it was suggested by the powers that be that I leave it alone.” Cutter shrugged. “So I fuckin’ did.”

“Trixie must have figured it out. She ran into Ramp outside of work and after talking to him, she wrote down the date and time plus MKK, the initials of the restaurant. She was convinced Mr. Finch was murdered. She could have put it together and realized Ramp was lying about the restaurant. Maybe she confronted him.”

“Makes for one nice motive to take her out.” Cutter shrugged again. “I’m thinkin’ Ramp went crying to Finchie, told him she was gonna mess things up.”

“And then Finchie sent one of his goons to kill her.” Brick sighed heavily. “I don’t get it. Okay, I get why Finchie was getting all murder happy over the money, but why did Ramp do it? Why did he even try to help Finchie in the first place?”

“You wouldn’t wanna be on the good side of one of the oldest and most powerful families in Raleigh?” Cutter raised a very bored brow as if it was very obvious.

“I guess. Ziggy, the crematory manager over there, he told me the Finches always ask for him. Maybe Ramp thought he could be the next official Finch funeral director if he got in good with Finchie?”

“Who the fuck knows. I’ll be sure to ask him all about it, but I’m expecting him to be lawyered up to the teeth.”

“Wait, why?”

“The Finches?” Jules guessed.

“Yup,” Cutter confirmed.

“Why would the Finches help Ramp?” Brick demanded.

“Think about it,” Jules said. “They’re gonna wanna keep up their sad ass tragic suicide story, right? And Ramp could rain on that parade mighty quick. But if they agree to help Ramp get some sorta reduced sentence, he might be inclined to keep it that way.”

“I guess Ramp really didn’t do anything illegal. Except for lie to the police, conspire to kill Trixie, and oh, yeah, try to fucking kill me.” Brick growled.

Cutter rolled his eyes, drawling, “And aren’t you just so happy that he didn’t so we could all have this wonderful chat together?”

“Is he…” Brick hated that he cared enough to ask. “Is he gonna make it?”

“You shot him in the shoulder. He’s gonna be fine. So, no, you’re not a murderer.”

The front door opened and Erasmus walked in with Junior.

Junior’s jacket was gone, and his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned halfway. His head was wrapped up with a big bandage. He looked a bit rough but definitely happy to be alive. “Holy fuck, do not recommend getting shot! Zero out of fuckin’ ten. That was some bullshit.” He grinned at Brick. “Hey, big and beefy. You doin’ okay?”

“Doin’ great, Junior.” Brick smiled. “Thank you.”

“Ah, you know. No big deal. Just savin’ your fuckin’ life by selflessly puttin’ my beautiful svelte body in harm’s way.” Junior planted his hands on his hips. “Real big hero shit, y’know.”

Cutter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll get your statement sorted out tomorrow, Mr. Brixton. And by tomorrow, I mean whenever the fuck I feel like doing it. I’m tired, and I am very sick of coming to this house. I’d like to go home.” He eyed Jules. “Are you going home anytime soon, Mr. Price?”

“I dunno.” Jules grinned. “I’ve been havin’ such a great time. I love bein’ in Raleigh. Thought I might stick around for a lil’ while longer.”

“Of course.” Cutter managed to achieve a new level of grumpy with his newly soured expression. “Why the fuck not?”

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