Treasure Hunt by John T. Lescroart

Author:John T. Lescroart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Suspense, General
Publisher: Dutton
Published: 2010-07-15T04:00:37+00:00

18

Due to the late night they’d both spent at the Neshek home, neither Juhle nor Russo got into work until just before Hunt arrived to make his statement to them. In Nancy Neshek, they had a fresh homicide to begin investigating, and the crime scene analysis and report to review, but Russo wanted to go down and finish up whatever work remained with the limousine first. After all, they’d gone to all the trouble of getting a warrant and having the Lincoln towed to the impound lot, and that lot was only just across Seventh Street, adjacent to the Hall of Justice, where they currently found themselves anyway.

“But Hunt’s going to be here to make his statement any minute.” Juhle was at his desk in the homicide detail, a wide-open room filled with desks on the fifth floor of the Hall of Justice. “We’re going to want to talk to him about that and find out what else he knows or knew about Neshek. I’d bet you he’s also going to know about those CityTalk numbers—”

But Russo cut him off. “I don’t even want to talk about Wyatt Hunt.”

“Sarah, come on. It was late. What were we going to accomplish by taking him downtown?”

“We were going to accomplish the mandate of our job. We were going to accomplish what we’re supposed to do to somebody who discovers a body in any kind of a compromising manner. How about that?”

Juhle shook his head. “He didn’t kill Nancy Neshek.”

“No? How do you know that? How do you know he didn’t contaminate the crime scene? How do you know what he did before you got there?”

“Look, Sarah, Hunt isn’t going anywhere. If his statement’s squirrelly in any way, we haul his ass back here and grill him till he’s well-done. But that’s not going to happen. He was up at her place because she’d called with a question about the reward and . . . well, we’ve been through all this.”

“Yes, we have. And for the record, it still fries my ass. I don’t care what time it was. We should have hauled Hunt down here. And if Marcel”—this was Marcel Lanier, head of homicide—“if Marcel gets wind of this and goes ballistic, I’m laying the whole goddamned thing off on you as my senior partner who made the final decision. And meanwhile, just so I’m not tempted to lock up Hunt on general principles if he shows up here when he’s supposed to, I’m going to stroll on out of here and take a look at the guts of that limo right now. You and your pal can play patty-cake in the interview room and I’ll catch the rerun on the tape later.”

Sighing, Juhle got up from his chair. “You were way more fun when you were younger, you know that?”

“Not really,” she said. “People just think I must have been.” And she turned on her heel.

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