Blood Kills, Nanci Rathbun [best books to read for self improvement TXT] 📗

about first cousins. The most a cousin’s DNA can match is about twenty-five percent, and even that’s a statistical anomaly. There’s no way Swanson isn’t our man.” He met my eyes. “I know you’re disappointed to learn this, but there’s no getting around it.”

“Well, hell,” I murmured, staring down at the conference table. “I never saw that coming.” I looked up. “But Mick’s killer is still on the loose. The case isn’t closed.”

“Nope,” Wukowski agreed, “but it has been demoted in importance.”

“Wait a minute!” I objected. “That’s not right.”

“Look, Angie, department resources are strained. I’ll do my best to bring the perp to justice, you know that. But there are other cases that need attention, and gang-on-gang murder simply doesn’t get our highest priority.” He gave Debby and me a hard stare. “And if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Once my outrage calmed, I asked, “And Artur Hunter? Are you planning to pursue locating him? After all, Mick didn’t attack Rebecca Franken from the grave. Or kill the man in the parking garage.”

“I’ve made inquiries regarding Hunter, with no results so far. But the truth is, we only have Swanson’s word on who was after him. It’s just as likely that he wanted to cast the blame for whatever happened in Chechnya onto someone else. After all, there’s no statute of limitations on war crimes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of frustration that I recognized quite well. “Let’s face facts, Angie. Bratva needed to see the Illinois homicide case closed. They knew that the blood at Swanson’s crime scene would accomplish that by linking Swanson to the political assassination. So next they went after any other evidence that might point to them. Stephen Carmody—the man they found in the parking garage—and Rebecca Franken were collateral damage.”

As I opened my mouth to protest, he raised his palm. “That’s how they’d see it. These are ruthless bastards, Angie.” He leaned toward me. “At least you and Debby can breathe easier. I can’t think of any reason the Russian mob would continue to pursue Swanson’s associates.”

“Oh!” Debby exclaimed. “Does that mean I can go home today? And open up shop again?”

“Let’s reassess in a few days,” Wukowski told her. “I don’t want to be premature.”

“Well… I really need to be open this weekend. Saturday and Sunday are my biggest days.”

“That should be possible. I’ll let you know by Wednesday at the latest.” He took a sheaf of papers from the folder in front of him “The primary reason I wanted to talk to you in person, Ms. Hill, is to notify you that we’ve put a freeze on Swanson’s assets until we know if he profited from Bratva activity.” He slid the bundle to Debby. “You can have your attorney look these over and contact the forensic analysis team if you need more information.”

Under the table, Debby began her hand-wringing and then gave a sharp nod. “If Mick did do what you said, I want no part of his money. I’ll… I’ll sell everything and use the proceeds to make restitution to everyone he hurt.”

“I don’t think you’ll have that option, Ms. Hill. The Illinois authorities will most likely seize it.”

“How will that affect the Arts Galleria?” I asked. “Surely you’re not going to close it down. The other shop owners are innocent of any wrongdoing, after all.”

“Nothing as drastic as that,” Wukowski said. “The Galleria can stay open for business for now, but all funds that would accrue to Swanson will go into a holding account until a decision is reached. And Metal Works can’t reopen.”

Debby turned to me. “Do you think I need to tell the others right away?”

“I’d wait,” I told her. “If the assumptions are not proven, then it’s a non-issue.”

Leaning across the table, Wukowski intoned in a flat voice, “Now that you know the kind of man Swanson was, Angie, I’d like you to back off this matter. Will you do that?”

“I… I need time to consider it, Wukowski. But I won’t take any action without letting you know.”

“Fair enough.” He rose and said, “Ms. Hill, time to head back to your temporary home.”

Debby gathered her purse and handed the legal materials to me. “Could you have Mick’s lawyer look these over?”

Great, I thought, another blow to Debby’s fragile peace of mind. “I’m afraid Rebecca Franken doesn’t want to be involved further in the case. After the trauma of the attack, she’s contemplating retirement.” As Debby’s mouth formed an O of distress, I hurried on. “But don’t worry. I know an extremely competent criminal attorney who owes me a favor. I’ll call to set up an appointment.”

“Bart Matthews?” Wukowski asked. When I nodded, he murmured under his breath, “Criminal attorney in more ways than one.” Then he stepped to my side, bent, and placed a kiss on my cheek. “I have to bow out of the invitation for a meal this Sunday. Too much on my plate at work. I’ll call Pat and reschedule.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave me an earnest, almost pleading look. “I know the news about Mick and downgrading the case probably has you fuming, moja droga, but don’t shoot the messenger.”

“If that was a possibility,” I said with a tiny smile, “it would’ve happened years ago.”

Chapter 38

The human animal differs from the lesser primates in his passion for lists.

H. Allen Smith

Rain pelted the windows of my condo on Tuesday, waking me from early-morning dreams. As I waited for my coffee maker to finish brewing, I considered the day’s tasks. Bart Matthews’ role as a “Mafia mouthpiece”—the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel’s words, not mine, and they paid dearly for them—reflected the fact that he exclusively handled Family clients. Given that he’d accommodated me before, I felt confident that he’d help us as a stopgap measure.

WTMJ’s morning news show labeled the weather “inclement,” with a high in the low sixties. More like a mini-hurricane, I thought.

I showered, moisturized, and