Chicago Broken: Detective Shannon Rourke Book 2 by Stewart Matthews

Author:Stewart Matthews [Matthews, Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Primrose Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-02-14T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“What makes you think I can get anything out of anybody?” Michael laid with his legs hanging off the end of his bed in the dark. Frank laid on top of his feet.

“A hunch.” Through his cell phone, Shannon’s voice crouched an inch lower than a whisper. “I thought, you know … you’d have some kind of … colleague?”

“You think I still know people?”

“Or somebody who knows somebody. I’m not overly picky at the moment.”

“That’s obvious.”

Shannon sighed. “I’m at a dead end with a person of interest. I need your help—but I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” She paused a moment, perhaps realizing she was dangerously close to crossing a line. “Could you make a couple phone calls?”

“I’m not good on the phone.”

“Well, then send out a couple emails. Someone has to have dirt on this bookie. Something I can use to get information out of him. Right now, all I have is the word of my prime suspect.”

“That’s probably worth less than my resume.”

There was no noise made, but in his mind’s eye, Michael saw his sister’s disappointment that he hadn’t gotten the job. Of all the things that had gone down today, letting her down was the lowest point. The well dug in the valley.

“You’ll find something,” she said.

He turned over in his bed and trapped the cell phone under his face. “Maybe.”

“Look, if you dig something up for me, I might be able to throw you a couple bucks for informant work. It’s not a salary, but it’s probably enough to take your sister on a date if we go Dutch. Nowhere expensive, though.”

Hanging out with her was what he wanted, right? Shannon wasn’t asking him to smash anyone’s fingers with a hammer—just see if he could dig up any information on this bookie. He wasn’t all that convinced he could—who was he going to talk to? He was persona non grata with all his former associates.

Still, it wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the time. Maybe he’d get lucky and find something.

“It’s a date,” he said.

“Really? You’ll do it?”

“For my sister.”

There was a pause on the phone. Did the call drop?

“Shannon?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” She sounded emotional. Maybe she’d wanted them to reconnect as badly as he did.

“Does this bookie have a name?”

“Robert Norwaldo,” she said. “Call me back with whatever you have.” She ended the call.

Michael laughed to himself. This was either going to be the easiest job he’d done, or the absolute worst. The only sure thing Michael knew was Robert Norwaldo would remember him.

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