Hurt Machine by Coleman Reed Farrel

Author:Coleman, Reed Farrel [Coleman, Reed Farrel]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781446354209
Publisher: F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 2011-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SEVEN

My cell phone rang as I approached Maya Watson’s condo. I let it go to voicemail. I had taken the thing with Delgado as far as I could take it until I got word from Brian Doyle. Even with Feliz’s confirmation of what Joey Fortuna had told me the previous evening, I still didn’t have enough to go to Fuqua. As good as Delgado looked on paper, the paper itself was as thin and fragile as a tissue. All I had was a dead hero fireman who had been angry enough to have hired someone to hurt Alta Conseco, but just because he’d tried to hire a hitter once didn’t mean he’d tried it again or that he had killed Alta himself. Delgado’s “One down, one to go,” comment to Nestor Feliz about Alta’s murder wasn’t exactly damning evidence. Most of the city probably thought karmic justice had been served when they read the headlines the morning after Alta’s murder.

Regardless of my good fortune—if that’s what it was—in stumbling across Jorge Delgado, I needed not to fall in love with him as a suspect. I had to block out his love song to me from the great beyond. A healthy dose of skepticism is always a good thing and if you love a suspect too much, it’s impossible to remain skeptical. I knew that better than most. I wanted to run Delgado’s name past Maya Watson. I guess I could have called and asked or called to warn her I was coming, but I wanted to see her face, to judge her reactions. And even if her reaction supported my belief in Delgado as the most likely suspect, there were still things about the case that bugged the shit out of me. I didn’t buy for a second that, on their salaries, Maya and Alta had gone to the High Line Bistro to grab lunch. And if they weren’t there for lunch, what the fuck were they doing there? What were they arguing about when they got there? And the ultimate question still remained: Why, in spite of their training and spotless performance evaluations, had they stood by and let Robert Tillman go untreated? What good would it do Carm, I wondered, if I could wrap up her sister’s murderer in a tidy package with a silken bow, but not explain why her sister had simply let a man die? Someone had those answers and I meant to get them.

The bruise in the atmosphere around Maya Watson’s condo development had healed a little more since my earlier visit. Kids were outside playing and none of her neighbors gave me the evil eye as I approached Maya’s door. This time, when she opened up to let me in, there was a hint of a smile on her face. Her hand wasn’t shaking and there was no cigarette burning between her fingers. The place still reeked of them, but her windows were open and the living room drapes were pulled back to let the sun stream in.

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