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

I was beginning to think he was right, and wondering how far Dehan had got and whether she had contacted the FBI.

“So why haven’t you killed me already?”

He nodded, assessing me with his eyes. “Because Sly and Coy and me was all wondering what the hell you’re doing here.”

“I told you. We’re investigating the murder of Kathleen Olvera.”

He was already shaking his head before I’d finished. “Uh-uh, you ain’t selling me that horse shit. Why’d you break and enter into my barn? What were you doing at the Shack trying to buy dope?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You advised us to go there, remember?”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “I told you Pat had friends in the off-grid crowd. I didn’t tell you to go there an’ pose as fuckin’ drug dealers. You really upset the boys, you know? That was some special kind of stupid what you done there, Stone.”

Coy spoke. His voice was weak. “You should have told us he was coming…”

Greg’s face twisted with contempt. He half-turned. “Hey, Sancho Panza, when I come down to Rancho Puta in Mexico, you can tell me what to do. But while you’re here you keep your mouth shut. Comprende?”

“Pendejo…”

“Open your mouth again, Coy, an’ I’m gonna tear that leg off and shove it up your ass. Now have we concluded this conversation or do you need me to demonstrate?”

Sly was wheezing his serpentine laugh. “Boys, let’s keep it friendly here, shall we? You tellin’ me, Stone, that you went through all them theatrics last night just to investigate that girl’s death?”

“That’s what I do. It’s my job. So satisfy my curiosity. Why did you kill Kathleen?”

“Who says we did?”

“Come on, Sly! What happened? You had this operation going on. Pat was going to take care of sales and distribution for you in the Bronx, but she blew the profits on coke and smack. You got mad, said if she didn’t come up with your money, you’d send a couple of your gorillas down to take care of her. So she sent her sweet little sister up to beg for more time. Like you said, Sly, you love Catholic girls.”

Greg got to his feet, his whip in hand. “That’s some imagination you got there, boy. You gonna have us on Death Row before you’re done.”

“You telling me it’s not true?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you jack shit.”

I looked over at the Angels, who were leaning against the wall, watching. “What about you boys? You ready for the lethal injection? You know, even if you don’t do the killing yourselves, this is joint enterprise. You still go down for it. You ready to do that?”

They glanced at each other, but didn’t say anything. I pressed on.

“Who was it? Was it you, Coyote? You look to me like a man who could get a kick out of killing a helpless girl. Was it you? Or did you all take a part? You know we’re having the semen tested again. Whose is it? Which one of you raped her? Was it you, Sly? You know, that, plus killing a cop, guarantees your injection…”

The lash of that whip was the most painful thing I had ever experienced in my life. It burned, but not like fire. It was deeper and more agonizing than fire. It tore into my skin and penetrated deep into my muscles. I swore to myself I would not cry out, but though I clenched my teeth till I thought they’d crack, I couldn’t suppress the noise of the sheer agony in my throat.

“I told you it hurts, boy. And I’m warning you, you’re really startin’ to get me mad. I can’t believe you. You’re tied to that pole interrogating us! You’re something! Now you better start talking, ’cause if you don’t, I’m gonna start whipping till you beg me to put you out of your misery, like a stray dog.”

“What the hell do you want to know? I’ve told you why I’m here.”

With the second lash I didn’t even try. I cried out with every fiber in my body. Maybe self-pity and pleading would come later, but right then all I could feel was an agony of uncontrollable rage.

Sly was giggling, Coy was smiling and Greg looked smug. I eyed the Angels. They looked skeptical.

Greg said, “I don’t believe you, and neither do my associates. I might, just, buy that that lazy slob Sheriff Watson would ask you to look at his cold case. I might just believe that. But that you would try and buy ten K of weed as part of your investigation? No Sir, I don’t buy that.”

“Then what the hell do you think I’m doing here?”

It was Sly who answered. “If you’re investigating Kathleen’s murder…” He spread his hands. “Pat was from the Bronx, I’m guessing Kathleen was, too, am I right, Greg?”

“Yeah.”

“So you are from the Bronx. Like me. We all from the Bronx. Now I have to say that the only thing, in my experience, more twisted, sick, and corrupt than a crook from the Bronx, is a cop from the Bronx. So I’ll tell you why I think you’re here, Stone. I think you and your bitch are here to steal my dope!”

I curled my lip at him. “Use your brain, you stupid asshole! Why would I steal your dope? If I could sell it in the Bronx I’d need everything you have in this damn store plus twice as much again! You’d be worth a thousand times more to me as a partner than stealing from you!”

Coyote spoke again. “It don’t make sense. None of it make sense. And I don’t like it because it don’t make sense. Kill the son of a bitch and finish! Cut off his fockin’ head