Page 49 of Sinful Promise
“Who is this person?” I reach into my jacket and take out a pen. Then I gently push the knife over to reveal the mechanism on the side.Snick!A long, silver blade shoots out of the bolster and sparkles in the minimal lighting. “Who found this? How do you expect me to believe that person isn’t the killer?”
“Not telling you who the informant is.” Calmly, he takes another long puff of his cigarette. “They requested privacy. But I can promise you they’re not your killer.”
“If they have nothing to hide, they should have no trouble coming forward.”
He chuckles, soft and cancer-ridden when his lungs reject the movement. “This person may or may not have a few outstanding warrants, and no desire to go to prison. So unless you can guarantee some kind of tit-for-tat for information, you don’t get a name.”
My eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “Withholding information is a crime, Anthony. Are you willing to go down for your friend? Because I could toss you in a cage today, and keep you there till your friend gets a case of the guilts and comes to get you out.” Leaning closer, careful not to touch the knife, I meet his eyes. “How long do you think that’ll take?”
He shakes his head. Carefree and casual. “That’s not how it works, Detective. But word is getting around that Fentone had two killers. That true?”
I shrug, but in my mind, I see not only a knife wound, but the hole through Fentone’s head left by a bullet. “If your friend was there when the killer walked out, then he should know if there was one or two.”
“He’s not saying. But word gets around anyway. You wanna confirm? The news isn’t saying.”
“No, I don’t wanna confirm.” I use the cloth and fold the blade back into its locking mechanism. Then I wrap it all up and leave it sitting in the center of the table. “But, hypothetically speaking, we can’t have the vigilante on scene, but also have two killers. The vigilante has historically worked alone.”
Garzman considers me for a moment, frowning and dragging more tar into his lungs. “So you’re saying it was just one killer?”
“No. I’m saying it can’t be both the vigilante,andtwo killers. You gotta pick a lane, Garzo. This isn’t one of those times you get more money for bullshitting ties between cases. It’s one or the other.”
“Or…” Finishing up his cigarette, the end glows red as he inhales deep into his lungs, then exhaling, he mashes the smoke against the table so ash flitters across the top and makes a mess. “Maybe the vigilante is expanding their horizons. Or they made a friend. Or maybe the vigilante always worked in a pair, but you didn’t know it until now. One thing we can agree on…” Picking up his beer, he takes a long swig. “The vigilante is human, no?”
My eyes narrow.
“Humans change,” he shrugs. “They evolve. They make mistakes, and switch things up. So maybe I don’t have to pick a lane. Maybe it’s all the same one… but now it’s bigger to fit more folks.”
Reaching out, I slap my hand over the top of the blade and fist the package in my palm. To take it back to the lab. To have it tested for blood… or prints… or hell, cornstarch on the handle.
Garzo pushes up from his chair and sets his hand on my shoulder.
I look over at it. Then up into his milky eyes. “Get your fuckin’ hand off me, Anthony.”
“You know that was worth a little cash, Fletcher. No way are you gonna stiff me now.”
“I’ll pay you after I run it through the lab.” Carefully, I set the wrapped package in my coat pocket. “If it comes back with something helpful, I’ll get you some money.”
“You’ll get me some moneynow,” he snarls. “Because if you don’t, you walk away not knowing what I heard about Malone.”
My guns burn hot against my chest. My cuffs, begging to encircle his fat wrists. Most of all, my fists itch to smash this asshole’s face and demand he stop with the bullshit about Archer. But common sense has me sitting back. Calm. In control.
“What did you hear about Malone?”
Garzo’s lips remain flat. Pursed and unmoving as he stares deep into my eyes.
Frustrated, I dig my wallet out of my back pocket. Pulling out a couple of twenties, I toss them to the table—and sneer when he raises a questioning brow. “That’s all I’ve got. What do you know about Malone?”
“I know he’s related to the New York Malones.” Quick as a flash, he sweeps up his new bounty and makes it disappear somewhere in his saggy shirt. “The mafia Malones.”
I fake a yawn and sit back. “Heard that one before. That the best you got?”
He chuckles and brings his beer up for another long drink. “Nah. I heard a couple of them are in the city right now. And they’re looking for the vigilante too.”
MINKA
Iwalk into our apartment at a little before six to find Micah laid out on my couch, unconscious and sweating, while the television drones on with Tiffany Hewitt’s news report about Laramie Fentone’s murder. Mayor Lawrence even makes an appearance to voice his opinion on the matter.
I step around the couch and come closer to my brother-in-law. After setting my briefcase on the floor and glancing around the quiet apartment, wondering where Cato is, I reach out and press a hand to Micah’s sweaty brow.
