Bone Appetit by Rachel Ford

Author:Rachel Ford [Ford, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“I believe there is a creek named for this predicament,” Meryatum said as we sat in a waiting area.

“Be quiet,” I told him.

He, of course, ignored me. “Shit creek. And we are up it, without the proverbial paddle.”

“Will you shut up,” I urged. I was thinking furiously, trying to think through how things would play out if MacIntosh’s people did happen to pull Bonetti’s prints.

My first thought was optimistic. Even with a solid set of prints, there might not be a match in the system.

The more I considered it, though, the less likely that seemed. You didn’t get to be a middling-grade contract killer without popping up on a few radars. And middling grade was exactly what Bonetti was. Capable, maybe even good. But not great.

Not good enough to have completely evaded attention across his career. If he had that kind of skill, Franco would have been dead already. Hell, if he’d had that kind of skill, Bonetti would probably be running more important assignments than bumping off a chef.

No. Even if nothing had ever stuck, chances were, Bonetti would be in the system.

For once, I wished law enforcement had been less capable, less on top of the criminal element in this case at least. Because prints in the system meant a name, and an address. And a name and an address might just mean –

“Not to put too fine a point on,” Meryatum said, pulling me from my thoughts, “but it would seem that I was right yet again.”

“What?”

He frowned at me. “What I said in the car.”

“Will you let me think?” I demanded.

“Oh, now you want to think. Don’t you think you should have done some of that earlier? Before we ended up this creek?”

I tried to force his droning voice out of my thoughts. If Bonetti’s prints came up, as they likely would, what then?

Even if they couldn’t pin anything worse on him, Joey Bonetti had been squatting on private property. They could get him for breaking and entering, for trespassing, maybe even criminal property damage. More than enough to bring him in.

And once in, they could apply pressure. MacIntosh would think he was doing me a favor pursuing the Franco Cipriani line of questioning.

Meryatum’s voice cut through my concentration again. “If you ask me – which I note you have not. But if you asked me, I would say –”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my brain back on track. Trying to envision Joey Bonetti in an interrogation room, facing questions about Franco Cipriani.

What would he say? Would he try to flip the script, make himself out to be a victim? Or…

I could feel the tension easing from my brow. No. Of course he wouldn’t. We weren’t cops. He didn’t even know our names. The only thing he would accomplish by mentioning us was to put himself in harm’s way.

Right now, his best bet was hoping word of his conversation with us never reached his bosses. Not only would he say nothing about our conversation, he wouldn’t want to mention us at all.

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