Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (i can read books TXT) 📕

a bomb and not a toy.” Mark was quiet a moment. “Why would he set off a bomb in his own hotel?”

“Do you remember Randall’s mother?” I asked.

“Sure. Nice lady, but wrapped too tight. She died a long time ago. Pills and booze.”

“Could it have been suicide?”

He thought for a moment and nodded. “Could be, covered up by money.”

“Suppose Randall knew and knew why. Suppose his parents became estranged as his mother sank into substance abuse and depression. Suppose James found another woman.”

“You’ve got some imagination, Rimes.”

“The last thing Carpenter said was ‘Hated him for Willa.’ It got me thinking.”

“Willa who?”

“The late Willa Winters. The name on the award James was about to give Drea. A Black woman who worked for Torrance Brockhurst. Her son was murdered by racists who got acquitted. James was so impressed with her strength in the face of tragedy he fell in love with her. You can see it in his eyes when he talks about her. Maybe they had an affair that pushed Charmaine Torrance into suicide. Maybe Randall blamed his father. Later, after one of her clients went underground and this conference was announced, maybe Randall’s old hookup danced back into his life with an idea to turn a billionaire’s son into a billionaire, by making the father collateral damage in a domestic terror attack.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“Pure conjecture,” I said. “But somebody spent a lot to keep these clowns off the grid. Somebody promised running money, maybe new identities. Did Wally Ray know Randall was behind the money? Did they even know each other?” I shrugged and spread my hands.

“It would break Mr. Torrance’s heart if Randall was part of this, if he did it because his dad had a Black girlfriend. I had a great dad and I know a great dad when I see one. Mr. Torrance loved his son and taught him by example to be fair and decent with everybody. He was generous as hell with my family too—and face it, in America, we Italians haven’t been white all that long. This would break his heart. My brother’s too. Matt idolized Randall. He called him his best friend and told him everything. He made us co-godfathers to his boys.”

“Maybe why he tried to shield them from the blast.”

He looked down and said nothing for a few seconds. “Matt’s a great dad too, and he hit the jackpot with Sharon. Their boys are the closest I’ll ever get to having kids.”

“The two times I’ve seen them together, I got a great family vibe,” I said.

“I’ve never been married,” he said. “When I was in the service, my life insurance was set to go to my brother. Now my insurance and whatever estate I have will go to him and his family.” He hesitated. “I see no reason to hurt a man I admire and a brother I would die for because of an unproven theory. Do you?”

“No,” I said. “Neither will Pete.”

At that moment Ophelia Green opened the door to Commissioner Cochrane’s office.

“Mr. Rimes, Mr. Donatello.” She smiled broadly. “Please come inside.”

Commissioner Cochrane, looking every bit the GQ silver fox covered by local media, sat behind a huge desk made of a wood I couldn’t identify. Standing behind him were the city corporation counsel, Mike Gallo, Deputy Commissioner Eva Shallowhorn, Fire Chief Nick Woodbeck, County Executive Zachritz, County Sheriff Johanna Hill, Judge Chancellor, and three others I didn’t recognize. Ophelia joined them in what imprinted itself on my brain as a portrait of local power, framed by a wide window that looked out over downtown on a sunny afternoon.

“Gentlemen, my chief of detectives says we owe you both our gratitude for keeping this conference from turning into another Las Vegas,” Cochrane said.

“County Executive Zachritz and I were there, commissioner,” Ophelia said. “Both men displayed selfless heroism.”

“We thank you.” Cochrane leaned back and drew in a deep breath. “But before we draft an official press release about the joint city and county police investigation into white supremacy and praising hotel security for their invaluable assistance in minimizing the damage of this attack, we need your selflessness one more time.” He slid two sheets of paper across the desk. “For a host of complicated reasons, including limiting your liability should anything that happened today land in court, we need you to sign this NDA that forbids you from speaking to anyone about your role in this affair, including the press. Any questions?”

I felt Mark looking at me but I gazed right into Cochrane’s steel-gray eyes. “You got a pen?”

40

That evening, after a brief stop at Buffalo General to visit Sam in surgical recovery, Drea delivered an address to a sold-out audience at the University at Buffalo Fine Arts Center—an event protected by campus police, police from the Town of Amherst, where the North Campus was located, and officers from the Erie County Sheriff’s Department. The speech, including questions, lasted seventy minutes and passed without incident.

On the way back to Torrance Towers, Pete dropped me at my place so I could pick up my CRV and drive it to the hotel. By the time I returned to the suite, Drea had retreated to her room to pack and sleep. Pete, Ramos, Yvonne, and Cissy had begun disassembling our work station and recovering cameras from various points throughout the hotel, conference center, and roofs. By eleven-thirty, we were zip-tying cables and packing padded carry cases.

At a quarter to midnight, I got a call from Rafael and took my phone into Pete’s room.

“Those guys were living on the West Side for over three months,” Rafael said. “Not far from your place in an old house subdivided into four units. But get this. Looks like they all shared one apartment. Their neighbors are mostly college kids, the landlord lives out in Clarence, and nobody knows shit. They had fake IDs, good ones, and paid for everything in cash. Man, it bothers me that kind of money is floating around out there for shit