Naive by Charles Royce (world best books to read .txt) 📕

victim’s mother, Elaine Holcomb, used to be a highly respected New York County ADA, so it shouldn’t surprise you that this case is on the fast track.” He hands a folder to Shawn. “Arraignment is Wednesday. Here’s what I can give you right now. On Wednesday, of course, you’ll receive a copy of the updated police report, as well as statements from witnesses who saw Micah exiting and entering, as well as from the ex—Josh Harrison, I believe, is his name.”

“Wednesday? It’s Monday and I haven’t even gotten to talk to my client yet.”

“It’s tough, isn’t it? We haven’t even explored all our leads yet.”

“My God, that woman,” Shawn says.

“Tell me about it. Micah killed her son, no doubt about it. Not sure if he started it, but he definitely finished it. It doesn’t look good. Micah’s waiting for you. Interrogation room 4, past the brick wall and up the stairs, end of the hall.”

“Thanks, Detective. Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“I just did.”

“I want you to check Lennox’s work computer.”

“On it already.”

“No, not his laptop, which I’m sure you have, but his work computer. I think it might point to something criminal.”

“Attacking a dead man already, are we?”

“It’s not that,” Shawn says. “The company he works for. I think there’s something there.”

“Ahh, the double murder theory. Already considered it, but they’re completely different crimes.” Even as the words exit his mouth, something in the detective’s gut tells him that something isn’t right. He decides to go out on a limb and offer something else to Shawn. “There’s something else. You know of any drug dealers who use a ghost emblem on their packaging?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look, I’ve been around the block enough to know that your client did it, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t explore every lead, including this computer thing you’re talking about.” He nods in the direction of the folder Shawn is holding. “But take a look at this and see if it looks familiar.”

Shawn opens the folder to see crude drawing of a skinny house with a curved wavy base and a thick horizontal black line straight across the middle.

“I don’t know what that is,” Shawn says. He sees a thick arrow pointing up with left-right protrusions that look like stubby blocks.

“A ghost, maybe?” Detective Penance says.

“I mean, okay, maybe, but what is it? Like what does it have to do with anything?”

“This emblem was found on several heroin bags that may have belonged to the deceased. One of the bags was half empty. We believe Lennox may have been involved in drugs, perhaps even dealing.”

“Shit.” Shawn is filled with disgust that his friend could have been using again, mixed with hope that he might have yet another lead.

“Yep. Now I know it’s a little unorthodox to share this kind of information at this point, but this one has got us curious. I’m already on it, but I’m sure your private investigator could find him quicker. Maybe?” Detective Penance knows Shawn works with Lyte & Morgan and has access to high-priced, better-connected P.I.s that could make the difference in this case.

“They’re already pulling video footage from every camera in the vicinity, but I’ll put them on this as well. Thank you, Detective.”

“Contrary to popular belief, we do our job here. Concentrating on one perp has bitten us in the ass before.”

“Alleged perp.”

“I stand corrected. Now go see your client, Mr. Connelly. Just past—”

“The brick wall,” they say in unison.

C h a p t e r   1 6

The white entrance reads 228 in aluminum-carved, sans-serif numbers. Freckled hands unlock the front door with a key. They are careful to use the key only, leaving no fingerprints on the handle.

“Super here. Hello? I’m here to upgrade the wall sockets,” he says in a gruff and powerful voice. No answer.

He is dressed in navy overalls. His spiky hair is covered by a baseball cap. As he walks past the kitchen, can lights from above illuminate the back of his uniform, which displays “LES Janitorial” on a large embroidered patch. He continues down the hall, slipping his fingers into heavily worn carpenter gloves.

“We have an appointment, I don’t mean to scare you.”

Again, no answer. He seems to be in the clear.

He pulls a shiny laptop out of the chest pocket of his overalls and continues past the first bedroom and into the second at the end of the hall. He walks into the dark, perfectly ordered room. He puckers his lips with approval.

The blinds are drawn. He places the laptop on the bed and opens the closet.

On the right side of the top closet shelf sits a stack of notebooks and papers. He lifts the stack and places it next to the laptop on the bed. Then he grabs the laptop from the bed and places it where the stack used to be. Almost as if he has rehearsed this exchange, he then turns and grabs the stack of notebooks and papers from the bed and places it on top of the laptop, making sure all the corners line up.

He reaches to the ceiling of the closet and removes the envelope that has been taped there, and places it inside the same pocket of his overalls.

Using his gloved hands, he smoothes the bed, removing the indentations left by the laptop and stack of papers.

“Thank you. I’m done,” he says out loud, with a smirk.

He leaves.

C h a p t e r   1 7

Shawn enters interrogation room 4 and sees his client staring right at him, sitting straight up, smiling. The room is flooded with fluorescent lighting, which bounces off the stark white walls in all directions, causing Shawn to squint until his eyes adjust. He looks up at the camera in the corner over Micah’s right shoulder and waves with a single jazz hand.

“How you holding up?” Shawn asks, noting that Micah’s demeanor does not match the situation.

“I’m practicing.” Micah forces a grin.

“What the hell are you practicing?” Shawn places