Page 35 of Rest In Pink

“Why are you killing Burney?” George asked,

“I’m not killing Burney,” Cash said. “I’m saving it from itself. Adapt or die. I’m doing everyone a favor.”

“Why’d you attack Thacker?” George demanded.

“You see the shit he’s posting online?” Cash said. “Hell, everyone in town wants a piece of him.”

“He’s not talking about everybody in town,” I said. “He’s talking about you.”

Cash shrugged. “I just did what everyone in JB’s wanted to.”

“But they didn’t,” George said. “You did.”

I tapped the paper. “Recognize these amounts? Which three letter code is you?”

Cash didn’t look down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Navy was pulling money out of the trust early to give to Faye,” I said. “Money that was rightfully Skye’s and Lavender’s and Peri’s. That was bad enough. Then he was giving you money, wasn’t he? Trying to recoup his losses through the development, hoping it would pay off before Skye and Peri reached their majorities. How bad is it when you’re stealing your own kid’s money? How much pressure did you put on him? Between you and Faye, you drove him to kill himself.”

“You’re crazy,” Cash said. “I have no idea what Navy was doing.”

What was interesting was that Cash hadn’t denied that Navy was giving him money. “Which code is you?” I asked, tapping the sheet.

Cash finally looked down. Briefly. “Man, Navy was drunk that night. That stupid fucking turn. He took it too fast.”

“He accelerated into it,” I said. “He didn’t have his seatbelt on.”

"He was drunk. How can you know he accelerated?”

He had a point there. Two points.

George stepped in. “You were drunk last night. Public intoxication in addition to assault.”

Cash shook his head. “Thacker won’t file charges.”

I redirected. “How much money did you get from Lavender’s estate after she died?”

“None of your business.”

I slammed my fist on the statement, startling both Cash and George. We hadn’t rehearsed that. “Which code is yours?”

“Give me a break, man,” Cash said.

I was tempted to break something on Cash, something more painful. “You’re working for this Vermillion Inc. company, aren’t you? The one making offers on property all over town. Who’s behind that?”

His eyes shifted, and then there was a knock on the door. I scooted the chair back and it hit the wall. I cracked the door and a well-rested Steve Crider was standing there and looming behind him was Franco, aka Meathead, Senator Wilcox’s bodyguard, in a very nice suit.

“What?” George demanded of Crider.

Before the officer could speak, Franco held up a document. “I am representing Johnny Cash Porter, Jr. Unless you’ve charged him, you are to release him into my custody.”

It was my turn to be surprised. “You’re a lawyer?”

Franco smiled and handed me his card. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Cooper. You aren’t as smart as you think you are.”

Fuck you, Meathead,I thought, but we had to let Cash go.

Chapter Fifteen

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