Rum Luck by Ryan Aldred

Author:Ryan Aldred [Aldred, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781432831899
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2016-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

The door to the office flew open, the handle smashing into the freshly plastered wall. Ben pushed Chris into the room and pointed at the same seat he’d sat in the night before.

The office was perhaps in the worst shape of all the rooms in the cantina, having taken the brunt of the damage during Vasquez’s search. One of the filing cabinets had been tipped over, and the contents of the other cabinets were now a thick carpet on the floor. Holes had been punched in the drywall, seemingly at random, and even some of the electrical outlet plates had been removed. Only the desk was immaculate. Victoria sat in the other visitor’s chair, rum in hand. No Enrico.

As though on cue, the heavy leather office chair slowly swiveled to reveal Enrico Morales, maestro of the criminal underworld. His elbows rested on the armrests. He pressed his fingertips together and fixed Chris with an expressionless glare. “Mr. Cooper, please tell me why you have brought this gentleman to my office.”

Ben sat down on one of the filing cabinets, as Miguel had the night before. “Chris has some information that might interest you.”

“Uh . . . right,” Chris said. He repeated what he had said earlier about the caped man carrying a bundle the night Antonio died.

“And what do you think was in the bundle?” Enrico asked.

“My guy didn’t say. Like I told you, he was pretty fried.”

“I did not ask you what your customer thought was in the bundle, Mister . . . ?”

Chris glanced at Ben as though asking for help. “People don’t usually ask for my last name.”

“I will be the exception, then.”

“And, what if . . . like . . . I wanted to remain anonymous?”

“That would be very unfortunate, Chris. You see, I only address my friends by their last names. First names are reserved for people I care nothing for.” He paused. “You are aware that I am a man who knows people?”

Chris swallowed. “It’s Christianson.”

Enrico raised an eyebrow. “Chris Christianson?”

“Yeah, man. My parents didn’t like me very much, okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Christianson. I did not ask what your ‘guy’ thought was in the bundle. I asked what you thought was in the bundle.”

Ben’s back stiffened. Why hadn’t he thought of asking that?

Chris opened his mouth to speak, and then paused. “You know, I never really thought about it.”

Enrico gave him a small, patronizing smile. “Take your time.”

“Well, he probably wouldn’t have stolen anything, because the police or, like, Ana would have noticed stuff was missing,” Chris said, thinking hard. You could practically see the steam coming off his dreadlocks.

“Go on,” Enrico said.

“Maybe he tried cleaning up after himself? The bar has cleaning supplies, right? He could have been, like, trying to cover his tracks.” Pleased with himself, Chris smiled broadly.

“Very good, Mr. Christianson. That is all I needed to know.” Enrico swiveled the chair around, signaling the end of the interrogation.

Ben was puzzled. So what if the killer cleaned up, and took the supplies with

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