To Bring My Shadow by Matt Phillips

Author:Matt Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

I stumbled back to Goodwin’s and wasn’t surprised to find Slade long gone. I ordered a drink and sat there cursing God for a good half hour. I wanted to spend the night drinking and fuming and feeling sorry for myself and the dead. But I knew Jackson needed me and Slade to solve the Castaneda murders. And I knew Slade—whether he admitted it or not—was worried about me. Slade was a worrier, and I gave him cause to worry. An imperfectly perfect partnership, I thought.

And the Castanedas were dead. As bad as they were, whatever they did, the dead needed me. I used my cell to call Slade from the bar. When he answered, I said, “I was chasing down a lead. Know that before you cuss me out.”

Slade sighed. I knew he was posted up at his desk digging through phone records, or sifting through campaign funding documents, or whatever the hell else a responsible detective did. “I bet you were, Frank. You’re always chasing down something.”

“I talked to Donovan. They knew about Decassin, but he had an alibi for when the Jacobys went missing. Case got taken by our pal Xander Dames, one and the same, and the business dealings between Jacoby and Decassin were known to the detectives, to the feds…Hell, to everybody.”

“Except for me and you,” Slade said.

“We know now. I’m thinking that Dames guy, and his partner, Miss what’s-her-face—”

“Atkins. Tracy Atkins.”

“That’s it. I’m betting the two of them are protecting somebody. Maybe Applewhite. Or someone close to him. That makes sense to me. If Decassin is a big donor to Applewhite’s campaign, if they were gearing up for a DA run, the Jacobys disappearing would kill it.”

I heard Slade grunt and scratch his chin. “That could be. So, the agents quash the inquiry into Jacobys’ business dealings. Which would lead to Applewhite, one way or another, and the man gets elected. Except for one fucking thing, right?”

“Castaneda gets got,” I said. “And then me and you find the Jacoby family.” Neither of us spoke for some time and I watched the television above the bar. One of those mixed martial arts fights was playing and a young kid with tribal tattoos and a soul patch was pummeling a redneck from Tuscaloosa. He punched him hard in the face until the redneck tapped out. The referee jumped in and pulled the winner to the corner of the cage. “And now,” I said, “me and you are caught in the middle of some political shitstorm because if we bring this to Jackson—”

“We’re not bringing shit to Jackson until we use our handcuffs.”

“Okay,” I said. “What do you want to do then?”

Slade sighed again and breathed hard through the phone. “I’m about to look into the campaign donations now. Let’s make sure we’ve got that as legit. And then, if it comes out true, I think we have a nice civil conversation with Decassin.”

“And when he tells us to fuck off?”

Slade sucked air through his teeth. “We threaten to go to the press.

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