Nik Kane Alaska Mystery - 02 - Capitol Offense by Mike Doogan

Author:Mike Doogan [Doogan, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780425223024
Google: KtTjW7Y6xjgC
Amazon: B001G7R9SW
Goodreads: 2144627
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2007-08-15T14:00:00+00:00

19

In politics, stupidity is not a handicap.

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

Kane arrived at Doyle’s office feeling as fit as a regiment of marines. He had a hard time keeping a straight face when Helga greeted him with a glare and stony silence.

“Looks like I’m winning,” he said as he breezed past her into Doyle’s office. He found the lawyer stuffing files into his bulky briefcase.

“Glad you could make it,” Doyle squeaked. “Got anything for me?”

Kane relayed the events of the night before, leaving out Alma Atwood’s spectacular meltdown.

“A dead cat?” Doyle squeaked. “Someone sent you a dead cat?”

“Actually,” Kane said, “it looked like someone killed the cat and then sent it to me. It’s a message.”

“So what are you going to do?” Doyle asked.

“About the cat?” Kane asked. “That’s Tank Crawford’s problem. About the message? I’m going to ignore it, but keep my guard up. You should do the same. Anybody who would kill a cat would kill a lower life-form, like a lawyer.”

Doyle took a last look around the room, snapped his briefcase shut, and looked at Kane.

“Very funny,” he said. “But nobody’s going to bother me. I’ve represented some dangerous people in my time and nobody’s ever done anything worse than call me names.”

Tough little devil, Kane thought. But he’s a lot like all these politicians. They all think that the rules of their game—politics, law, whatever—will protect them in the real world. Unfortunately for them, they’re wrong.

“What about this aide, what’s his name?” Doyle asked “Do you think he actually knows anything?”

“Got me,” Kane said. “He did work with the victim, so he’s more likely to know something than a lot of people. But he was pretty drunk when I talked to him.”

“So you don’t buy the in vino veritas theory?” the lawyer asked.

Kane shrugged again.

“Sometimes alcohol makes people spill their darkest secrets,” he said, “and sometimes it makes them lie just for the hell of it. But mostly it makes them drunk and unpredictable.”

Kane watched as the lawyer struggled his way into his coat. It was like watching a pig wrestle with a python.

“Maybe you’d better go talk with him again,” Doyle said when he’d finished subduing the coat. He straightened his toupee and looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going. All this homeland security nonsense means I’ve got to get to the airport early and then waste time waiting. Talk about locking the barn door after the horse got out. Anyway, call me if you get anything useful. I’m booked back here on the Tuesday-morning plane.”

Kane followed the lawyer out of the office, giving Helga his best leer as he passed. The look she returned would have stopped a grizzly bear in midcharge. Down on the street, he watched as Doyle got into a cab and drove off. It was almost one o’clock. Kane took the card Dylan had given him out of his wallet. He dialed the number listed there on his cell phone.

“Dylan Kane, please,” he said and waited. “Dylan? This is your dad. You had lunch yet?” He listened.

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