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

“Right.” She sighed again. She was beginning to look really mad. “Maybe I should go back to Frisco and talk to Peter. I could ask the local PD to bring him in for questioning.” I nodded but didn’t answer. She pointed at me with her pen. “You better be thinking with your brain, Stone, and not with your fucking dick. Because if you’re not, I am going to hit you so hard your head is going to be spinning for a week! You’re going to have corkscrew fucking neck syndrome.”

I attempted a smile. She didn’t respond.

“I hear you, Dehan.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me.”

I sighed. “Okay, you’re mad at me, and I am not sure why. Here is what we do. We have enough with his trip to New York and ballistics to request that he be taken in and transferred to New York for questioning. Whether he came to kill Stephen or to deliver the gun, we still need to talk to him as a material witness. Will that satisfy you?”

She nodded. “At least now it sounds like you’re thinking with your brain. What’s she like, anyway?”

I made a “you got this all wrong” face. “You are letting your imagination run away with you, Dehan.”

“Hey! It makes no odds to me, Stone. It would do you good to get laid. I just don’t want this dame fogging your thinking.”

“Fogging my thinking? I spoke to her for five minutes.”

“It takes a person six seconds to decide they want to get in another person’s pants. I read that somewhere.”

“Well, I don’t want to get in her pants. I just want to know why Baxter is interested in her, and I will find that out tomorrow. End of story. Are we cool?”

She curled her lip and grunted. That was the best I was going to get.

“Come on, let’s go talk to the captain.”

Sixteen

That afternoon, we took care of the paperwork and the formalities and made the arrangements for Peter Gunthersen to be taken into custody as a material witness and transferred to the 43rd Precinct. San Mateo PD told us they would be in touch as soon as they had made the arrangements.

In the evening, I dropped Dehan at her apartment and told her I wouldn’t pick her up in the morning. I was going to go straight to Madison Avenue. She said, “Sure,” slammed the door, and was gone.

Next morning, I got up late, breakfasted toast and coffee, showered, and slapped on my most expensive aftershave. Then, I selected my most expensive suit. It wasn’t really expensive, but it was better than what I wore to work every day. At ten o’clock, I set off at a leisurely pace for Madison Avenue.

I parked across the road and strolled in at half past ten. She smiled and looked pleased to see me. “Mr. Stone…”

“John. Hello, Emma.”

“Did you make up your mind about the table?”

I went and stood really close to her. She didn’t step back. I said, “Did you?”

She gave a small laugh and looked at the buttons on my shirt. “What do you want, Mr… John?”

I sighed and went to look at the Queen Anne table. It was exquisite. It probably cost more than my car. “I’m looking for something special.”

“Can you be a little more precise?”

“Not really. I’ll know it when I see it.” I turned to face her. “But I am pretty sure that you are the person to find it for me.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “What gives you that idea?”

I shrugged. “Well, Emma, you’re pretty special yourself.” She smiled, but there was a certain caution in her eyes. “Also…” I ran my fingers over the high polish on the tabletop. I was going to take a risk, and I was only 90 percent sure of what I was doing. “I have searched high and low, far and wide…” I turned to look her in the eye so there would be no mistake. “I have been as far as San Francisco, searching… and something tells me I have finally found the right person.”

She was shaken. She went pale, but she hid it well. “Who do you work for, John?”

I planted a smile on the left side of my face; that’s where it looks most rueful. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Really? Then tell me so that I can think of you as a liar.”

“I’m a cop.”

She frowned. For a fraction of a second, I could see her reviewing everything I had said and done since the day before.

Then, I added, “But I work for myself.”

She cooled noticeably. “Mr. Stone, I don’t know what you think you are onto, or what you think you are doing, but you have obviously made a mistake.”

I switched my smile to the other side of my face, which is where it looks ironic.

“Really? Now I’m the one who’s thinking of you as a liar.”

“Mr. Stone…”

“John.”

“I really don’t need to stand here and be insulted.”

“You can sit if you like. Why don’t you tell me about Baxter?”

Her face went rigid. “Who?”

“You heard me, Emma. Karl Baxter, private investigator. He was in here yesterday just before I came in. He gave you a card and left. You went to see him at lunchtime.”

Her cheeks colored and her eyes were bright. “Have you been spying on me?”

“What if I have?”

“Why, I should…!”

“Call the cops? I am the cops, remember?” I pulled out my badge and showed it to her. As she stared at it, I said, “But I’m a bad cop.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I told you, something special.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

I narrowed my eyes at her and considered her for a long while. Finally, I said, “You want