Worst Enemies by Dana King

Author:Dana King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

CHAPTER 38

Bypass Motors specialized in pre-owned cars. Did a thriving business by offering the best deals in town. It was almost like they didn’t care if they made a profit. Mike Mannarino learned as a young man a car dealership that handled a high volume of used cars and service could account for a lot of cash it might be inconvenient to report in other ways.

Doc strolled through the lot into the small showroom where Bypass kept a handful of luxury cars out of the weather. Mannarino liked to draw an occasional crowd by bringing in a high end car no one in Penns River could afford, but might see a deal they liked on a Chevy while they were checking out the Bentley. Or the Maybach. Had a Lamborghini in there a couple of years ago. Sat around for a few weeks before it was “sold,” probably to another dealer. The high-end cars brought buyers from upscale neighborhoods the other side of Pittsburgh and as far away as Buffalo, Cleveland, and Youngstown. Made everything look shinier for suspicious types in law enforcement.

A salesman intercepted Doc in the showroom. Doc kept walking, said he wanted to see the boss. Salesman cut him off. Mr. Mannarino’s with a customer. Doc stepped back, put his arms akimbo so the salesman could see the badge and gun on his belt. Asked if he should announce himself to the other customers. Turned out Mr. Mannarino wasn’t as busy as the salesman originally thought.

Mannarino stood when Doc came in, dismissed the salesman. “Detective Dougherty. We don’t see you here much.”

“You bragging or complaining?”

“Little of both, maybe. We can always use new business...”

“But too much of my kind of business might drive away some of your other customers. I understand. What I’m here for today is sort of unofficial.”

“Have a seat. How unofficial?”

Doc sat, crossed his left ankle over his right knee. Watched himself pick a piece of lint from his slacks as he said, “Guy named David Frantz was pulled out of a vacant townhouse on Fourth Avenue a few days ago. I hear he worked for you.”

“I knew him. I wouldn’t say he worked for me.”

“You wouldn’t say he worked for you, or he didn’t?” Doc flicked the lint onto the carpet and gave Mannarino his attention. “Which?”

Mannarino drummed his fingers on the desk. “How unofficial are we?”

“The Frantz homicide is official as hell. As far as what we’re talking about now, I’m not here.”

Mannarino drummed some more. “Frantz was freelance. He never worked for me directly.”

“But if you told Buddy Elba or Stretch Dolewicz to do something and they needed a body, they might call him in.” Mannarino’s gesture and expression didn’t disagree. “And you’d collect the tax on any jobs he pulled on his own.” Mannarino made another noncommittal gesture.

Doc let his gaze drift out the window and across the lot. “We don’t get much heavy action here in town. I guess you know we appreciate that.”

“I appreciate that. My kids live here, go to school here.

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