Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best thriller books to read .txt) 📕

then looked back at Alfonso. “You are telling me that after begging for him not to be hurt, she pulled a gun on you and shot him before she shot Ernesto? She didn’t shoot Ernesto, you, and Danny. She shot Steve.”

He shrugged. “That’s the way it happened, man. If I was going to lie to you, I would tell you something more convincing. She pulled the gun from the drawer, I’m thinkin’, ‘fuck, I am going to die,’ but then she points that thing at Steve and shoots him through the heart.”

I sighed. “What happened to Ernesto?”

“The bullet was lodged in his chest. It come in through the side, tore up his lungs. He died. We put him in a sack and buried him in the river.”

We were quiet for a bit. Eventually, I asked him, “Where can we find Danny Schultz?”

“He used to hang out at Pepe’s Place, on Longwood, by the railway bridge.”

“Okay.” I stood.

“Hey, Stone, I know you ain’t gonna believe me. But losin’ my bro’ like that…” He jerked his head at Dehan. “She’ll tell you. Me and him, we was close, man, real close. Losin’ him and then having my life spared like that… when I get out of here, I am goin’ straight. I didn’t kill Steve. I done bad things and I gotta atone for them, and I will. But I did not kill Steve.”

When we got to the door, he called out, “An’ I cooperated with you! Right?”

I looked back at him and nodded.

Down in the parking lot, Dehan leaned her ass against the car and crossed her arms. In the glaring heat, against the burgundy of the Jag, her hair looked very black.

“Is it me? Am I going crazy? Or is it the world? You know, maybe it’s normal. Maybe it’s normal for a sweet girl that everybody describes as luminous to pull out a .38 and blow away the man she’s supposed to love. Maybe I’m the crazy one.”

I opened the door and climbed in. As she got in next to me, I said, “You’re not crazy, Dehan. We’ve been chasing ghosts and shadows.”

“You’re not kidding! The one motive we had, the one solid thing we had to hold on to, just got flushed down the can!”

I fired up the engine and looked at my double reflection in her shades. “But it never was the motive.”

Thirteen

It was six p.m. and as hot as midday by the time we cruised down Longwood Avenue in the Bronx and pulled up in front of Pepe’s Place. It was shady and quiet, empty apart from a couple of old guys sitting in the corner drinking beer and minding their own business. The place was seedy, but clean, and there were posters of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin on the walls.

Pepe was one of those rarest of men who walked his own path in life and managed to retain the respect of everybody who knew him. The Sureños drank in his bar, but they left him alone, and the cops knew he was clean and let him be. Even Mick, back in the day, steered clear of him.

He was a big Mexican with an ugly scar on his face. Rumor was he had done some ugly things back home and had to leave. But nobody was in a hurry to find out if it was true or not. Pepe was not a man you questioned. As we stepped through the door, he was polishing glasses. He looked at Dehan and recognized her.

“Hola, Carmen.” He gave me the once-over. “John, you want a drink or you want to ask me questions?”

I climbed on a stool, and Dehan leaned on the bar next to me. I said, “How about both? Let’s have a couple of beers.”

He pulled two draughts, and while he was at it, Dehan asked him, “Danny Schultz around?”

He glanced at her and finished pouring before he answered. He gave us our drinks and wiped the bar dry around the pump.

“Danny’s dead.”

I frowned. “Since when?”

He made a face that said he was thinking. “Eighteen months?”

“What happened?”

He gave a snort and leaned against the till. “You’re cops. You know how it is. With guys like Danny, if there ain’t some direct eyewitness, or some proof they can find right there and then, they shelve the case and leave it. Forty percent of cases don’t get solved for the same reason. The cops in hoods like this, they don’t even try. I’m sorry, I don’t wanna be offensive, and I can kinda understand it, you know? People don’t make it easy. Nobody talks, nobody saw nothin’, nobody heard nothin’.” He shrugged. “But if you want my opinion, he was screwing the wrong chick.”

Dehan glanced at me, then back at Pepe. “Danny Schultz? Danny never screwed anything but the IRS in his whole life.”

Pepe smiled and shrugged. “He got lucky. I saw it with my own eyes. If I hadna seen it, I wouldn’t believe it either. Danny Schultz. He was sitting right there, where you’re sitting now, complaining about taxes or the weather or whatever. I never listened to the pendejo. Then this chick comes in. Real sweet, real class, you know what I’m saying? Nicely dressed. Not a puta like these chicks you see ’round here. Nice. You could take her anywhere and feel proud, right?”

Dehan looked impatient. She was nodding. “So what happened?”

“She sits next to Danny and orders a martini.” He laughed. “I don’t think I ever served a martini before. She had to tell me how to prepare it. So Danny—” He looked at Dehan. “You know Danny, he knows everything, right? He starts explaining about the different martinis and how to make them, how much gin, how much vermouth, one olive, two olive, and he’s sayin’ something about James