Mob Bosses & Tax Losses by Rachel Ford

Author:Rachel Ford [Ford, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“You’re telling me you’re some kind of gumshoe that hops through time or something?” Ray asked, his tones incredulous.

“Uh, kind of. I’m a tax law investigator.”

“Tax law?” This didn’t do much to ease the other man’s confusion. “What does tax law got to do with me?”

“Nothing. Not directly.” Alfred shook his head. “Look, it’s complicated. I’ll explain everything, but please put the gun down.”

“Oh.” The detective glanced between the pistol he held and the taxman, then lowered the weapon. “Sorry. But, let’s see your heater too.”

“What?”

“Your gun.”

“I don’t have one.”

Ray frowned at him. “You were gonna draw on me, outside Sal’s.”

“No. Jesus, no,” Alfred protested, holding up the spacetime field generator. “I was getting this, to bring us home. To my home, I mean. I don’t have a gun.”

“So you weren’t going to shoot me?”

“Shoot you? Why would I shoot you?”

Ray ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Just…none of this makes sense.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in. But, please…the gun.”

“Right.” The other man nodded, holstering his pistol. “Okay, taxman: start over. Tell me how you got mixed up in all of this. And…” He shook his head, glancing at the rooms around him. “And explain this time travel bit.”

“I have a device that allows me to move through space and time. What you would call time travel.”

“Like the Time Machine?”

Alfred had to consider the question for half a moment. It was a sci-fi book, he knew; one of the ones Nance raved about, as being a classic. “Right,” he said. “Something like that.”

Ray passed a hand through his hair again and whistled. “Wow. So how far in the future are we, exactly?”

“About eighty years, give or take.”

“Eighty years? Then…am I even alive anymore, in your time?”

Alfred shifted in place. “Well, uh, no. But…I’m sorry, but you died a long time ago.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “Listen, this is going to be…hard to hear. But those cops tonight? In the real timeline – before I intervened, I mean – they arrested you. You went to prison on trumped up charges of working for the mob. And…and you died. In prison.”

“Jesus,” the other man said, his face turning very pale. “How long was I in for?”

“Not long. Someone…someone shivved you.”

“In the can?”

“In the chest.” Then, Alfred took his meaning. “Oh, yes, when you were in prison.”

Ray took a seat now, staring at the taxman. “This is…crazy talk. Time travel? And…” He shook his head. “Me going to prison? The City knows me. They know I don’t work for Tomassi, or any of those guys.”

Again, all the arguments against transporting someone through time with no warning – the arguments that might have stopped a wiser man – swarmed his mind. “I know it’s…difficult. But you saw us travel.”

The detective nodded slowly. “I did.”

It was then that Alfred’s phone rang, and it was so loud in the stillness that he yelped. “Sugar cookies.”

Ray was on his feet in a second, reaching for his gun. “What is that?”

“It’s just my phone,” he answered hastily.

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