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

He sighed. “Leave it on my desk. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”

I went into the small cubicle of his office, found a scrap of paper and jotted down exactly what I wanted. Then I found a paper clip and stuck it to the envelope and the bag. I didn’t leave them on his desk. I took them and put them in his hand.

“I owe you. If you ever want to use my place in Florida, or the boat, you only have to ask.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You have a boat and a place in Florida?”

“No. But if I ever have, they are yours for the asking.”

Dehan was leaning on the doorjamb. She shook her head at Frank. “I told him already today. He’s an asshole.”

Twenty One

We stepped out into the fading evening sunshine. There were expanding patches of dark blue sky above. I looked up at the dissipating clouds, but in my mind, I was struggling to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. It was like doing a jigsaw blindfolded in a dense fog. There were no dissipating clouds there. I walked toward my car, thinking about what I had asked Frank to do. I was pretty sure what the answers would be, and I was wondering about the implications. I heard Dehan’s voice behind me.

“Okay Stone, you need to stop.” I did. I stopped and turned to frown at her. She spread her hands. “Clue me in, Sensei! I feel like I’m tagging along for the ride!”

I looked at my watch. It was not too early for supper. “Yeah. Let’s grab some food and a beer and I’ll share my thoughts with you.”

“Jeez, boss! Thanks!”

“There’s a pizza place near here. You like pizza.”

“Yeah. I like pizza. I like being kept in the loop more.”

We climbed in the car and pulled out of the lot. All the way down Seminole Avenue and half the way down Morris Park, she stared at me, and I tried to articulate my thoughts. Finally, I pulled up outside Patsy’s Pizzeria, we went inside, and I ordered two pepperoni pizzas and two beers.

We sat at a table by the window, with a red gingham tablecloth and a small vase of flowers on it. She took a pull of her beer, leaving herself a white mustache on her upper lip, which she wiped away with the back of her hand.

“I haven’t worked it out, Dehan. But I have a gut feeling.”

“So tell me.”

I sighed. “Okay, so the first thing is, we know that the bowie knife was the weapon used to kill Simon Martin. Agreed?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, now we know that Humberto handled the bag, and so did somebody else. But there are no prints on the knife.”

“Sure, but we were already speculating that El Chato could have killed Simon and given the knife, in the bag, to Humberto.”

I spread my hands and leaned back to allow Patsy to deliver the two pizzas. She smiled at us. “Enjoy!”

When she’d gone, I said to Dehan, “But the second set of prints, the one’s that are not Humberto’s, are not in IAFIS.”

She stopped with her knife half way to the pizza. “Oh… And they would be if they were El Chato’s.”

“Precisely. And the kitchen knife, which we now know was used to kill Jacob, has Humberto’s prints, but finger prints, not palm prints, and made post mortem! As though he had been handling the knife with great care, after it had been wiped. Like it was part of his treasure collection.”

She nodded repeatedly as she cut her pizza into twelve, almost manageable slices. “And you are thinking, who knew Humberto well enough to know he would take the knives as part of his treasure, and so incriminate himself? And who might be in a position for Humberto to see them in the garden…?”

We both bit into our pizzas and sat staring at each other and chewing. I swallowed and drank while she bit again. I said, “I am not clear yet, Dehan. That is, I am clear that Humberto is not the guy, and I am clear El Chato is not the guy. But I am not clear about Paul, Mary, Sylvie, or Ahmed. They are all tied up in a kind of spaghetti mess, and I am trying to understand each one of them, what their motivations are…”

She frowned. “But Ahmed? The guy’s a creep, but I don’t see what motive he would have.”

I did a little side-to-side dance with my head. “I don’t know…”

“Unless Paul and Sylvie had persuaded Jacob to come back to the fold, and it was a simple fatwa.”

“It’s within the bounds of possibility, Dehan. But what about Simon?”

She made a face like she wasn’t believing her own words. “He blasphemed against Allah?”

“It’s also possible, but it fails to explain why Sylvie would refuse to name him and pretend to have amnesia.”

“Man! This is like one of those damn Chinese puzzles. You get one bit, but then you can’t get the other!” She scowled at me. “Son of a bitch! You think you’ve got it, don’t you?”

I sighed. “There is one scenario that could, possibly, explain everything. But it’s a reach.”

“So tell me!”

“I’m not sure…” As I said it, my phone rang. I picked it up and answered, “Stone.”

I stood as I listened. I signaled Dehan with my head to get up and pay as I headed for the door. “Okay, we’re on our way.”

Dehan joined me as I was climbing in the car. The sun had gone down and the light was fading. I slammed the door and fired up the engine. She got in beside me and I took off.

“There’s been an attack