Cold Open by Greg Clarkin

Author:Greg Clarkin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781938135392
Publisher: Telemachus Press, LLC
Published: 2012-07-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Four

“So does Hunter work for IT&E or not?” Freddie asked.

“I have no idea,” I said. “All I know is that McConnell wasn’t fazed by the pictures.”

We were on Seventh Avenue stopped at the light on the corner of Fiftieth Street.

“Grace under pressure,” Freddie said.

“No, it was like he knew what was coming. Ripley prepped him, and he had time to make some calls and sit down and figure out a response.”

I pounded the dashboard with a fist. “Son of a bitch,” I said.

“Hey, hey,” Freddie said, “easy on the car. And the language. I try to run a family car service here.”

“I was sure I had him. But I blew it. Gave him too much damn time to come up with a response.”

“The mouth again. Watch the mouth,” Freddie said.

“Should have played it differently,” I said.

“And maybe check out Herman the blackmailer before taking his word,” he said.

“That could be a problem,” I said.

“Could be?”

“We don’t know if Herman was blackmailing him. We don’t know if anyone was blackmailing him, or IT&E,” I said.

“Made it up to confuse your ass,” he said.

“Possibly, or to slow me down.”

We drove down Seventh, heading into Times Square.

“You ask him why he had someone shoot my car?” Freddie said.

“I forgot.”

“Always thinking of yourself.”

“Plus, we don’t know it was him,” I said.

“What the hell do we know at this point?” he asked.

“We know that Steele died a couple of weeks ago. We know he was chasing this story on IT&E. We know he was supposed to meet Herman Bindagi, but Herman got nervous and canceled. We know that IT&E was aware of Jack’s desire to nail them. We know that as soon as I picked up the ball and started asking people about what was going on in Jack’s life, someone got worried. We know the guy who told me to back off gets paid by IT&E,” I said.

“Don’t forget the car,” he said.

“Yes, we know someone shot your car.”

“Makes it sound like the car was the intended target.”

“Okay, we know that, thanks to your skillful, evasive driving skills, someone shot your Grand Cherokee when otherwise it could have been you or me. How’s that?” I asked.

“Much better.”

We stopped at the light at Forty-sixth, and a sea of people crossed in front of us.

“He was calm and cool and scripted when I showed him the pictures. He handed them back and just flat-out said he had no idea about any of it. It was like the pictures of one his employees handing out bribes didn’t even bother him,” I said.

“Maybe wasn’t one of his employees,” he said.

“I thought of that. But I checked Hunter out as best I could. He works there. Or worked there, at least.”

“Then maybe wasn’t bribes he was handing out.”

“Yes, it was probably tips, for jobs well done. Or maybe they were bonuses.”

“Never know.”

We were moving again, slowly, through Times Square.

“Only time McConnell came close to losing control was when I got in his face and said it was a good story.

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