Nickel City Crossfire, Gary Ross [ebook reader for pc and android txt] 📗

Tito’s, whose identity was being withheld, pending notification of next of kin. Nothing connected the accident to the fire.

“I knew about the crash, and you told me about Tito,” Jen said. “I heard the fire was a SWAT op gone wrong but we haven’t seen the paper till now.”

“We were outside the church all morning,” Bianca said. “Watching for Keisha but she never came. The ten-thirty service ended a little while ago, and we came straight here.”

“You thought Keisha would try to shoot Mrs. Markham at the church?” I asked.

“She told me she would settle things today, where everybody could learn the truth.” Bianca spread her hands. “If she goes to their house, nobody will see what happens. It has to be at church.”

“Is there another service or event today?”

“The monthly luncheon was last Sunday when Keisha’s mom got shot. But there’s a brief service every Sunday night at seven—a welcome, a sermonette, some songs of praise.”

“Are there fewer worshippers in the evening?”

“Usually, as I recall.”

“Fewer bystanders but enough witnesses to report whatever Keisha says.” Jen shifted her gaze back to the newspaper pages. “So how does this fire relate to the crash and Keisha?”

“The guy who burned was the one who tried to have Keisha’s mom killed. He and Butch, Tito’s shooter, had rings from the same gang. Things went off the rails when police went to the shelter with a warrant for his ring for testing in another murder. Also, Tito and Butch played ball together at EMU.”

“What does all that mean?” Bianca asked.

“Long story short, a white biker gang from the Southern Tier and a black drug gang out of Detroit are working together, using a development company, a church foundation, and a charity to cover money laundering and drug distribution. The newspaper doesn’t say what caused that smell last night, but my nose told me a lot of drugs burned up.”

“You were there?” Bianca said.

“Course you were,” Jen said, smiling. “I can still smell smoke on you. But that’s an off-the-wall partnership. Mrs. Minister is tangled up in a lot more than we thought.”

“Including sleeping with Tito.” I saw the surprise on Jen’s face but not Bianca’s.

“Kids started teasing him about his crush on her when he was twelve,” she said. “He would just look at her and his eyes would glaze over.”

“I guess Loni Markham didn’t have to look far for devoted help.” I shook my head and sighed. “I better get dressed.”

“You’ve got a little time,” Bianca said. “The service doesn’t start till seven.”

“Any idea why Keisha didn’t show outside church?” I asked.

“No car. It was a long walk. Or maybe Jen’s right and she wants fewer bystanders.”

“Could be,” I said. “But I think it’s because she met you at Rowhouse earlier and couldn’t get to the church fast enough to hide. With Sunday school and service right after that, it was too busy for her to slip in unseen. Everybody knows she’s missing. Wouldn’t being seen cause excitement and make it harder for her to take a shot?”

“So you think she’ll try to get inside some time before vespers,” Jen said.

Bianca scrunched her face in doubt. “I’m sure the church is locked between services.”

“But until a few months ago, Keisha was the church secretary,” I said.

Then Bianca’s face lit up with understanding. “She still has her key.”

46

I made Jen and Bianca leave before I got dressed. “From this point on, for the sake of your career, you can’t know how or when I got into the church,” I said to Jen. Then I looked at Bianca. “But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to show your off-duty police officer wife the church you grew up in and brought her to the evening service.”

Bianca went up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Thank you.”

After making a necessary phone call, I shaved and decided the surgical glue had made replacing the bandage on my chin unnecessary. I dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans, and rubber-soled boots. My shoulder and right arm felt ready, so I swapped the cross-draw holster for my nylon shoulder rig and pulled on the black utility jacket I used for the occasional bounty hunting job. It had a hood and pockets everywhere for plasticuffs, a short baton, Gorilla tape, a tactical knife, and a tactical flashlight that doubled as a stun gun. I added the lock pick gun.

Before going to the church, I stopped by Buffalo General to see Chalmers in the ICU.

MaryAnn Maclin, who had tried to calm Keisha the night she tried to see her mother, was on duty at the high-tech nursing pod, overseeing other patients but not Chalmers. She shook her head sadly and said, in a lowered voice, “Please tell me you are not here to see the man in Number Six, the detective who got shot.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess he’ll be known by the company he keeps.”

“I heard what happened after Mrs. Simpkins left us.” She kept her voice low but she smiled. “The whole hospital was talking about a PI who prevented a murder. I knew it was my paladin even before I heard the patient’s name. You know, I had to look that word up.”

“Then if I’m ever known by the company I keep, talking to you will bump me up several notches.”

“Oh, I do know a bullshitter when I hear one.” She laughed, softly. “I am married to a man who sells cars.”

Chalmers was alone, sitting up in his bed, trying with one arm immobilized to read a newspaper amid tubes and wires. The sutures in his right cheek were small enough to make them seem a steroid-fueled advance team for the rest of the stubble on his face. He looked up and half-grinned when he saw me. “Can’t smile too much ‘cause it hurts.” His voice sounded groggy.

“I see you made it through your post-surgical hangover,” I said. “How you feeling?”

“Okay. Luckily it wasn’t a full slug, just a chunk from a ricochet. They’re pumping in pain meds every