Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [reading in the dark TXT] 📗

had been active in the Bronx area for at least two years – possibly much longer than that – while the police were completely oblivious to his murderous activity. It was not until Wayne Harris alerted them to his killings that they became aware. Since then, the police have uncovered a total of four murders committed by the man some are referring to as the Westchester Creek Strangler…”

Emilio brought over our steaks and set them in front of us. Then he poured our wine, nodding while he did it. He set down the bottle and gestured at me with the back of his hand while making his right leg do a little dance. “Eh,” he said, “You’re a cop, right?”

I nodded, “Yeah, so is my partner.”

He turned to Dehan. “Yeah, you’re a cop too. This guy. He killed however many young women. Now, they gonna use my money to keep him in jail. Why’d they get rid of the chair? Answer me that!”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Emilio. But this guy ain’t going nowhere on your dollar. He’s dead. Listen to the rest of the news item.”

He nodded, watching me. “Oh, he’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Death is too good for him, but I’m glad. Enjoy your meal.”

The TV was saying, “…in a bizarre twist to this tale, detectives found Fillmore dead in his apartment this afternoon, having apparently shot himself in the head…”

Emilio called over, “Hey, yeah, you was right! Nice.”

I gave him the thumbs up and turned back to Dehan.

She cut into her steak. Her expression was serious. “How did you know?”

“That he was dead?”

“Yeah.”

I chewed for a while, then sipped the wine. Eventually I said, “I didn’t.” She scowled at me. “I didn’t know, Dehan. He didn’t go into work. He didn’t call. From what I had heard from Teddy, he was reliable, so that was odd. And…” I sighed deep and shrugged. “Don’t get mad, but in my reasoning, one of the possibilities was that Jimmy was being framed, and if he was, the real killer had to eliminate him before we caught him.”

She put her head in her hands. “But, Stone, you said at the beginning that you knew something was going to happen because…”

“It gets confusing for me too, sometimes, Dehan. But the big difference between me and most other investigators is that, instead of making up my mind at the beginning, I keep all the options open, and then make up my mind when I have actual proof.”

“Do you know how smug you sound when you say that?”

“Yes.”

“Well this time, Mister Smug Ass, you were wrong, and I was right. Jimmy Fillmore was guilty.”

“And Wayne Harris is a free man.”

She gave her head a little tilt to the side. “A fair price, I think.”

“Perhaps.”

“Come on, Stone!” She laughed. “Admit this once that you were wrong. Have you ever been wrong? Ever? Just once?”

“No.”

“Never? Seriously?”

“Never. How can you be wrong if you never make up your mind until you have proof? But before we move on from this subject, let me leave you with a thought. What was missing from Angela’s purse?” She frowned, shook her head. I said, “Lipstick.”

She stared at me for a long moment. “That’s it. You are so sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“You’ll have to wrestle me for the bed.”

“It’s on, boy.” She pointed at me. “You are going down!”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Something to look forward to.”

Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropped and she started to laugh.

We finished our meal, and the wine, laughing. Emilio had some goat’s cheese he claimed he’d had brought in in the Italian ambassador’s diplomatic bag—a statement he accompanied with an elaborate wink. The Italian ambassador, he said, was his cousin Tony, and laughed raucously. The cheese was good, but the wine was gone before the cheese was, so I had a Bushmills and Dehan had a brandy, and somehow it was eleven by the time we stepped out and started strolling home, arm in arm and still laughing.

We’d walked maybe a hundred yards. We were almost at the corner of Haight Avenue when my phone rang. We looked at each other and sighed. I didn’t recognize the number. I answered, “Yeah, Stone, who is this?”

“Good evening, Detective Stone Cold. How are you feeling? Are you feeling triumphant tonight?”

“What do you want, Wayne? It’s eleven l’clock at night.”

“I’m aware of the time, John. I am just here celebrating and I wanted to thank you for your help in securing my freedom.”

“No thanks required. Please don’t call this number again.”

“Well, now, Detective Stone, here’s the thing. I think that you and I need to talk.”

“We’ve done our talking, Wayne. We’re done here.”

“Not so fast, Detective Stone Cold, not so fast. See, there are some details that we have not covered, and you are going to want to cover them, I promise you.”

I glanced at Dehan and puffed my cheeks. “Yeah? Then come into the station tomorrow morning. We’ll talk there.”

He laughed out loud. “Oh man! Like a big shot executive, contact my office! Dude! You cannot treat me like that. I need your respect, man.”

“Goodbye, Wayne.”

“Tonight.”

“What?”

Dehan was watching me through narrowed eyes. I spread my hands at her and shook my head. I said into the phone, “You want to meet tonight? Get real, Wayne!”

His voice changed. “No. It’s time you got real, Detective Stone. You’ve known from the start that there was more to this than met the eye. Well, my friend, you were right. You get yourself down to Randall and Zerega and I’ll be waiting for you. You’re gonna want to hear what I have to tell you. And Stone? Come alone, pal. If I see your cute partner with you, or I