Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

me! I will admit that I try to keep the peace with people like Conor. It would take a much braver, and a much cleverer man than I to run that church, with as many charitable programs as I have, without a deal of give and take with the criminal community. Because the whole, damned community is the criminal community! And if I don’t toe the line, Detective, then people’s legs get broken and people die!” He pointed a furious finger at her. “So don’t come to me with your holier-than-thou airs and bloody graces! Before you lecture me on morality, young lady, you come down to Lafayette and run that church for six months, and tell me you never made a deal or an accommodation!”

We were quiet for a moment while he breathed and got a grip. Dehan spoke softly. “I lived in that neighborhood for twenty years, there is nothing you can tell me about it that I don’t know.”

He nodded, staring at the tabletop, and then raised his face to look at her.

“And how many people came to you for guidance and help? What do you tell a woman who comes to you weeping, Detective, saying that a gang member wants her for his girlfriend, he wants to have sexual intercourse with her, but she doesn’t want to? She asks you for guidance and you know…” He raised his hand and pointed at her again. “You know that if you tell her to say no, he will kill her, or her husband, or her children! What advice do you give that woman? When the whole community looks to you for guidance, and you know that if you guide them on the right path, the repercussions to them will be death, brutality and violence, what do you do?”

I looked at Dehan to see if she would answer. Her eyes were shining with anger, but she had no answer for him. I looked back at him and said, “You call the cops, Father O’Neil.”

He burst out laughing. There was something manic to it.

“The police, is it? Is that the answer?” His face twisted suddenly into a mask of rage. “And what, Detective Stone, when it is the police doing the murdering and the raping? Whom do you call then?” He stood. “I have no idea who took these disgusting photographs, Detective, but I can tell you categorically that it was not me and it was not Conor. He may be a gangster, but he is not a twisted pervert.” He pointed at the stack of photos in front of me. “For that kind of filth, maybe you should look closer to home!”

And with that he walked out.

We both sat in silence for a good thirty seconds. Finally, Dehan said, “What did he mean by that, Stone? What did he mean, closer to home?”

I pulled the photographs back across the table, careful only to touch the rim, and stared at them a while.

“What do you think he meant?” I said.

Nine

The door opened and a uniformed sergeant leaned his head in.

“Detective, you have a call from the lab. He has been trying to reach you on your cell.”

“Thanks, Sanchez. I’ll call him back.”

I dialed Frank’s number and put it on speaker.

“Stone, I’ve been trying to reach you. It’s about the computer.”

“What have you got, Frank?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Twelve years is a long time, but we managed to salvage a couple of emails and what appears to be part of a list. Some of the names had deteriorated beyond salvaging, but I’ve left two that were partly intact because they had recognizable letters remaining. I’ve sent the files to you. The emails are interesting, you’ll see why straight away, but I’m not sure how useful they’ll be.”

“Thanks. Any word on the photos?”

“Yes, the word is, I am not Harry Potter. I’ll have something for you as soon as I can get to them.”

“Thanks, Frank. I did mention it was child prostitution, didn’t I?”

There was a pause.

“I’ll get onto it straight away.”

“Good. I’m sending something else over to you for comparison.”

While I was talking, Dehan had left the room. I caught up with her at the desk, she was printing the emails and the list. She handed me copies of each and dropped into her chair. I sat and started to read.

The first was short, but it was a bombshell.

Sean, Darling, let’s not let this thing get out of hand. I have made up my mind. You are the man for me and I do not plan to let you go. You know what I am like when I make up my mind…

Sonia

The sender’s name and email address were at the foot: Sonia Vincenzo. Dehan whistled. I looked up. We stared at each other.

“You thought it was interesting because of his haircut? Stone, this case is Pandora’s Box. What’s next? Love letters from the White House?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Sean O’Conor in bed—literally, not figuratively—with the capo of the New Jersey Mob’s only niece? That is a serious plot twist.”

She was scanning the next sheet. She said, “Keep reading.”

I flipped it over and read:

Listen, you sad piece of shit, if you think you can climb in these pants and then just walk away with a kiss and a wink, think again! Your Irish fucking charm don’t cut no ice with me or with my uncle. I hope you got your knees insured, Sean, because you are going to need all the fucking medical attention you can get when Dino and his pals get through with you, you fucking Mick bastard. You are dead!

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If that’s how she felt about Sean, how do you think she felt about Alicia?”

I spread the third sheet on