Dead Red by Tim O'Mara

Author:Tim O'Mara [O'Mara, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Amateur Sleuth, General
ISBN: 9781466862999
Google: jHIOBAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2015-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

LESS THAN TEN MINUTES AFTER I’d dialed 911—and made it very clear I was Chief Raymond Donne’s nephew—my apartment was crawling with cops. From what I could gather from their conversation and radio chatter, there were also quite a few on the rooftops across the street. The two thumps Allison and I had heard were not misguided birds; they were sniper shots that ended up in the wall behind my bed. Had we been in bed when the shots were fired, neither one of us could have called anyone.

From the kitchen I looked over at Ally, who was sitting on the bed giving a statement to one of the five detectives who showed up. For some reason they would not share with me, I was to give my statement to a sixth detective whenever he showed up. When he finally came through the front door of my apartment, I realized why they had made me wait.

“Mr. Donne,” Detective Royce said as he entered the kitchen. “I see things have calmed down a bit since we last spoke.”

We “last spoke” a little more than two years ago, after Frankie Rivas safely returned home to his grandmother’s apartment. Royce was the lead in the investigation of Frankie’s father’s murder. He had known I was a more-than-interested bystander in that case and had made it quite clear—nephew of Chief Donne or not—he’d much rather I stuck to teaching and let the cops do what cops do best.

“Detective Royce,” I said, offering my hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Royce looked at the three uniformed officers crowding me in the kitchen and asked them to step out. When they complied, Royce gave me the same look he had given me throughout the Frankie Rivas case.

“What the fuck, Mr. Donne?” he whispered. “Who the hell did you piss off this time?”

“I honestly don’t know, Detective. My girlfriend and I were just ready to … call it a night, when we heard the shots.”

He looked over my shoulder at the other detectives in my bedroom with Allison and shook his head. “So, you have no idea why someone would be shooting at you?” He raised his hand. “And before you answer, understand that I know you were in the cab with Officer Torres the night he was shot and killed.”

Beneath his obvious anger, I also detected some genuine concern. He had let me slide two years ago by not looking too closely at my story or Frankie’s. Which was good, because neither story would have withstood much scrutiny. Royce was a stand-up guy, but that didn’t mean he liked to be messed with.

“Listen,” I said, “no one’s more confused about this shit than I am, Detective. I’ve been minding my own business since Frankie and—”

“Please. What about last year after that other kid of yours was stabbed under the bridge?”

“I was just helping out Dougie Lee’s mom. That was the extent of my involvement.”

“Bullshit. You don’t remember that cops talk to each other? Murcer called me after you got involved to ask me for advice on how to handle you.

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