Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

She narrowed her eyes and spoke with something like venom, “Oddly enough!”

Dehan shrugged. “You cooperate with us, we’ll cooperate with you.”

She glanced at me, then back at Dehan. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All we want is to find out who did this killing. We are not interested in anything else. We certainly don’t want to cause unnecessary problems for you …”

She looked as though a black mamba had just offered her a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Dehan went on, “Jack O’Brien got a job?”

Lynda thought about this for a long time before answering. “Not that kind…” She sighed. “No. I don’t know what he does. I’ve bought mull, um… weed, from him sometimes.”

Dehan nodded bobbed her head. “So think about this really carefully, Lynda. If we check the stores and the pharmacy, and if we get a warrant to search your house and Jack’s, are we going to find drugs missing at the pharmacy, and those same drugs at your house or at Jack’s?”

“No! Fuckin’ do it! Please!”

I drummed on the table for a moment. “So, what exactly was the relationship between you and Luis?”

She shrugged. “We were mates.” Then she smiled at me. “Mates with privileges.”

“How about you and Jack?”

“Same kind of thing, only he thinks it’s more. He does this whole fuckin’ jealous macho number on me.”

Dehan frowned and gave her head a small shake. “You don’t seem real broken up about what happened.”

She seemed genuinely shocked by the comment. “Give me a fuckin’ chance! When you stop fuckin’ harassing me and trying to fuckin’ frame me, when I get home and you’re not fuckin’ jumping down my fuckin’ throat, then I’ll cry my fuckin’ eyes out! I fuckin’ loved Luis!”

I studied her a moment and thought that perhaps she was telling the truth. People process grief in different ways. And we had seen plenty of that during the morning. I looked at Dehan. She said, “Please don’t leave town, Lynda. We may need to talk to you again.”

She stood up. “Fuckin’ priceless!”

I leaned back in my chair. “Lynda, I think there has been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

She froze, staring into my face. “What?”

“I think you’ve been under the impression that Luis was murdered.”

She frowned, then scowled at Dehan. “You said…!”

“No, what Detective Dehan said was that this was a murder inquiry. She didn’t say that Luis had been murdered. Luis was badly injured and is in critical condition in hospital. It was Sebastian who was murdered. They were both shot, Sebastian died. Luis may yet die, but as far as we are aware, he is still alive.”

“You fuckin’ dipsticks.”

She slammed out of the room and left a ringing silence behind her. Dehan stood and stretched, then walked around the room with her hands in her back pockets. She said to the wall, “What’s your impression?”

I laughed quietly to myself. “Right now, I’d like to get maggot and then get some shut eye.”

She turned and smiled at me. “Two nations divided by a common language.”

I nodded. “Shaw, but he was talking about us and the English. I don’t know, Dehan. I don’t believe she is a model, law-abiding citizen. She likes her dope and her booze. She has a house, albeit a small one, on a shop assistant’s salary. So she is getting money from somewhere other than her job.”

She nodded. “On the other hand, I don’t get the impression she’s making a stash. If she was supplying Jack and Angela, I’d expect her to be making more money than she seems to be.”

I drummed the table with my palms. “This may not even be our case, Dehan. Let’s go talk to the Inspector, tell him what we have and see what he thinks.”

She nodded. “OK, Sensei. Let’s go.”

Inspector John Newman was in his office. We knocked and he told us to enter. When we did, he was by the window, watering a small fern on the sill. He smiled at us with what looked like genuine pleasure.

“Come in, come in. Please sit.” He made his way back to his desk and lowered himself carefully into his large, black leather chair. He had tightly curled black hair going gray at the temples. That and his olive skin made him look like a villain from a Zorro movie.

“I imagine you are here about the Irizarry murder.”

It was Dehan who answered. “Yes, sir. We are unclear how to proceed and we would appreciate your guidance.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, but remained silent, contemplating the possibility that Inspector John Newman might be the only man in the world whom Carmen Dehan had ever asked for guidance.

He nodded slowly. “You are unclear whether it is a cold case or not.”

I said, “That’s right, sir. Angela Rojas is clearly connected to the case—and the murder—in that she was like a sister to the two victims. Her mother, who was a close friend of the victims’ parents, was murdered, fifteen years ago, in the same house outside which the boys were shot. As far as it goes, that is quite compelling. However, the details of the shooting so far do not suggest any link between the two crimes.”

Inspector Newman frowned and thrust out his lower lip. Before he could say anything, Dehan spoke, “However, sir, Detective Stone has a strong hunch, or intuitive feeling…”

“I know what a hunch is, Detective. At one time, I also used to have them.” He smiled. “I am a cop.”

“Yes, sir. Detective Stone has a strong hunch that the two cases are, in fact, connected. And in my experience, his hunches tend to be accurate.”

I added, “Or ace.”

He frowned at me, “Excuse me?”

“Ace, accurate, spot on.”

“Well, you have the case, I have no doubt you will tackle it with