Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [readnow TXT] 📗

You talk to my son and before you know it, you’ll have him framed for that little skunk’s murder!”

Dehan crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Skunk, Mr. Irizarry?”

He advanced a step toward her, stabbing at her with a fat, hairy finger. “I know you, Detective Dehan, clawed your way out of the gutter, stepping on friends and family along the way, watching them get abused, framed, and exploited by your new friends and colleagues, the pigs you call police officers. I know you, I know all of you, and you will not get your claws into my son!”

She didn’t move, but I saw her cheeks flush. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and steady. “You’d better watch that finger, counselor, if it gets any closer to my chest, we’re going to have a problem.”

He scowled at her and withdrew his hand.

I said, “That’s the second time you have made reference to Sebastian in that way. What makes you call him a skunk?”

He laughed out loud. It was an ugly noise. “Oh! So now you’re going to slander the dead boy? Of course! A white med student gets shot in the Bronx and it’s the filthy Puerto Rican gangs, the lawless Latinos! But a Puerto Rican med student gets shot and it’s his own damned fault!”

For a moment, I had brain-ache. I frowned and shook my head. “Mr. Irizarry, it was you who called him a skunk. I asked you why you called him a skunk.”

He wagged his finger at me in the negative. I looked at Mary.

She sighed. “My husband believes that Sebastian was leading Luis astray…”

Ed turned on her. “Don’t you dare feed them ammunition! Do you know what these people are capable of doing with a statement like that?” He turned and pointed his finger at me. “That was hearsay! It is not admissible and what is more, I deny it!”

Dehan sighed heavily. “Mr. Irizarry. You cannot have it all ways. We want to catch the person who shot Luis, but if you obstruct us at every turn, you are going to make that very difficult to do.”

He curled his lip. “That’s right, blame your own inadequacies on us!”

I shook my head. “Don’t use the plural, Mr. Irizarry. Your wife wants to help find the man who murdered Sebastian and attempted to murder your son. It is only you who seem hell-bent on stopping us, and frankly, I am beginning to wonder why.”

His face went crimson. “Take your threats and get the hell out of here! Get out!”

I took a step closer to him, so we were barely inches apart, and looked at Mary. “Mrs. Irizarry, Mary, I hope your son makes a full recovery. When he does, I trust that you will prevail upon him to talk to us and tell us everything he knows.” I looked down at Ed’s scarlet, trembling face, and added, “It is possible that whoever tried to kill him may try again.” I looked back at Mary. “It is important that we get every bit of help we can to catch this killer. Thank you, Mrs. Irizarry.”

I moved to the door and pulled it open and Dehan stepped out, but before I did, I turned to Ed. “I hope, Ed, that you will change your mind and decide to tell me exactly what it was that you had against Sebastian.”

I waited a moment, but he just stared and trembled. So I shrugged and stepped out after Dehan.

We rode down in the elevator in silence, crossed the big, echoing, tiled lobby and stepped into the bright, midday sun. Then we walked in silence back toward the Van Etten Building and her car. As we climbed in, I asked her, “You about ready for lunch?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You want to grab some beef sandwiches while I trace the Toyota?”

I was a little surprised but didn’t show it. It had become almost a habit for us to grab a pizza or a burger at lunch time, with a quick beer and a review of the case. I said, “Sounds like a plan,” and she pulled away without answering.

Nine

She dropped me at the corner and I stepped into the deli to get two beef sandwiches. The bell clanked un-sonorously overhead, the door clunked closed, and my senses were invaded by the aroma of freshly baked bread, smoked ham, and spices. Larry was leaning on the counter with his huge forearms and an amused glint in his eye.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stone?”

“Hi, Larry. Give me two beef sandwiches, will you?”

“With extra mustard for the lady, huh?”

“Yup.”

He started slicing meet on a lethal-looking machine. “So…” He winked at me. “How was the holiday?”

I feigned innocent ignorance. “Huh?”

He stepped back in incredulity, shrugged, and spread his arms the way only Italians know how. “What? You ain’t been on holiday in seven years! You been back three days and you don’t remember the holiday?”

“Oh, you mean Goa.”

“Of course I mean Goa! You been anywhere else? Goa! Course I mean Goa!” He started cutting again. “So, come on, spill, how was it?” He nodded and winked. “Good? Huh? Everything good?”

“Yeah. It was good, great. Nice to get away.”

He stared at me, winced, and shook his head. “Ahhh, porca miseria! You struck out, huh?”

I gave him a ‘seriously?’ look. “Don’t you get enough excitement on TV, Larry?“

“Hey, we care about you, man! We rootin’ for you! You make a handsome couple!”

“She’s my partner. We’re good friends. Now cut it out, will you!”

He shook his head, said something in Italian that sounded vaguely offensive, and handed me the two sandwiches. I carried them up Fteley Street toward the station house, trying to focus my mind on Luis and Sebastian, and wondering how significant Ed’s behavior was. As I stepped