Ice Chest
Page 25
“I’m still thinking about it,” he said. He started to say something else, then shut his mouth.
“What? What were you going to say?”
“I’m just…I’m not sure if I can work for someone I’m…you know…”
She smiled. “Sleeping with? Well, there’s a way around that. We can just keep the door between the adjoining rooms locked.” She looked at him and started to laugh. “Oh, dear Lord, if you could see your face right now. You look like a little boy who’s just been told there’s no Santa Claus, and no Christmas this year either.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “The other way around it is to remind you that you won’t be working FOR me. We’ll be partners. Your name can even come first on the door.” She made a frame in the air with her hands. “McNeill, Starr and Associates, Security and Investigations.”
“But it’ll be your money,” he said.
“And your expertise, not to mention your newly enhanced reputation. But if you like, we can work it so you can buy in, a little at a time, out of your share. Come on, Charles. We can make this work. We work well together. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “We do.” He had to admit to himself, the idea of working with her excited him. “Oh,” he said, “about the ‘and Associates.’ What did Zoe say?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Hermione nodded to where Zoe Piper was approaching, pulling a rolling bag behind her. She was dressed in aqua shorts, a white top, and a large white floppy hat that all but obscured her features.
Hermione waved. “We were getting worried about you.”
“Sorry. Got held up in traffic. And security was more of a pain than usual.” She leaned her head back so as to better be able to see them. “You guys sure you want me along?” she said. “I feel kind of like a third wheel.”
“Nonsense,” Hermione said. “You earned this as much as anyone. And I’m hoping you’ll regard it as a kind of signing bonus. As for ‘third wheel’…” Hermione smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll find someone with whom to amuse yourself.”
Zoe grinned back. “I am kinda resourceful that way.” She looked at Chunk. “So, you in or out? The business, I mean.”
“What the hell,” Chunk said. “I’m in.”
“Awesome.” Zoe slid the rolling bag over by where Chunk was sitting. “Watch my stuff,” she said. “I’m gonna go get a Cinnabon.”
As she walked away, Hermione said to Chunk, “I offered her a partnership, you know. She said she didn’t need the aggravation. She’s an unusual young woman.”
“Yeah,” he said. “She is.” He thought for a moment. “Look, while we’re getting everything out on the table…” He hesitated.
“Chunk,” she said, “the only way this is going to work is if we’re totally honest and upfront with each other. We are both too old and life is too damn short to play games.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay. It’s about that other proposition.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Surely you’re not backing out on that?”
“No, no,” he said, and she laughed at his haste. “It’s just that…you know, that whole thing with Moose…that thing he, ah, discovered he liked…”
“Being dominated, you mean.”
He nodded.
“It’s not your thing.”
He shook his head. “No. Not really.”
She smiled. “Thank God. I mean, I didn’t think you were, but I’m glad to hear it confirmed. That sort of thing is simply exhausting over the long term.”
“So you’re not…I mean you’re not into…”
“Not really.” The smile broadened, grew wicked. “Would you like to hear something I do like?” She leaned over and whispered in his ear. When she leaned back, she asked, “Would that be something you might be interested in, Mr. McNeill?”
“Yes,” he said fervently. “Yes, I would.”
“Excellent.”
Zoe returned at that moment.
“Didn’t you get your Cinnabon, dear?” Hermione asked.
Zoe shook her head. “Nah. I decided it would violate my principle of not trying to eat anything bigger than my head.”
“Wise.” Hermione nodded.
“What’s wrong with him?” Zoe inclined her head toward Chunk. “His eyes are all glassy and he looks like he’s about to have a stroke.”
“Oh, nothing.” Hermione stood up. Other people around the departure area were doing the same. Chunk stayed seated. “Coming, darling?” She smiled down at him.
“In a minute,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Well, hurry up. Those drinks aren’t going to drink themselves.”
After a moment, Chunk could stand without embarrassment. He picked up his bags and got in line. As he waited, a thought occurred to him. He wondered how Branson was doing.
“WON’T BE long now,” Stephanie said.
“Fifty-six days, ten hours, and…” Bran thought a moment. “Forty minutes?”
They were seated at a picnic table in the visiting area of the minimum security prison where Branson was housed. It was a fenced-in enclosure, with razor wire atop the fence, but there were a couple of trees for shade. The bored guard slouched against the fence near the gate, paying them no attention.
After escaping the warehouse, Branson had turned himself in and spent a couple of rough nights in jail, but once his court-appointed attorney had let various prosecutors know that he was willing to talk, things had gotten better. So far, he’d turned state’s evidence against his uncle Rafe (apprehended trying to hitchhike away from the scene at the warehouse) and L.B. Gordon (caught when the radiator of his stolen car had leaked all of its coolant from the bullet holes Moose Cantone had put into it). He’d also been instrumental in the indictments of Mario Allegretti (kidnapping, armed robbery, and extortion), Paul Chirelli (ditto), and Aldo “Moose” Cantone (all of the above, plus various federal weapons charges).
The Feds had been particularly pleased with the way Paul Chirelli had begun providing information about the internal problems of the Allegretti crime syndicate, which they predicted would allow them to roll that organization up and put the old man in a cell next to his son.
So when the time had come for Branson to face the music, he’d plea-bargained his way into a short term in a minimum security facility, followed by a long stretch of probation, said probation including a provision that he provide what help he could in the prosecution of Gareth Gane and the Lowman brothers.
“More like forty-five minutes,” Stephanie said. “Sorry.”
“I’ll make it,” he said.
“You better. I’ll be waiting.” She reached out and put her hand over his.
He looked around to make sure no guards were near, then lowered his voice. “So, what about…you know.”
“No one’s said boo to me about any missing jewels,” she assured him. “They figure Gane sold them. Or they just got lost.”
“You have any trouble with…that guy?”
“You mean that Teflon Sam?” She shook her head. “Once he learned I’d done my research and I wasn’t just some dumb girl, everything went okay. We won’t be rich, but we’ll live fine, long as we don’t go crazy and start buyin’ all kinds of big expensive stuff.”
“Good,” Branson said. “Well, there is one big thing I want to buy when I get out.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What would that be?”
“An engagement ring.”
She smiled. “Congratulations. Anyone I know?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I just hope she says yes.”
She squeezed his hand again. “I think she will.”
THE END
Most editors and publishers, when told by one of their authors that that author is writing something completely different from what they’ve done before will be, let’s say, less than enthusiastic. Jason Pinter at Polis Books, however, has been as totally supportive of ICE CHEST as he has of my other works, and for that I am eternally grateful. You are
an extraordinary voice in this crime fiction community.
Speaking of the community, I want to thank all the people in it who keep me sane. Well, maybe not sane, but at least off the ledge. People like Laura Bradford, Toni McGee Causey, Tasha Alexander, Andrew Grant, Jon and Ruth Jordan, Robert Gregory Browne, Brett Battles, J. Carson Black, J.A. Konrath, Stacey Cochran, Alexandra Sokoloff…the whole list would make a book in itself.
I want to give a special thank you to Pam Stack of Authors on the Air, who was an early adopter and ardent supporter of my work, and to Molly Weston, who’s been the same.
Finally, I’d like to give a shout out to my “sprint partner,” romance writer Em Petrova. While I was finishing the first draft of this book, Em and I would challenge each other to see who could get the most words down during a specified time period. She always won, because the girl’s a writin’ machine, but the exercise helped keep me focused. Thanks, Em.
Born and raised in North Carolina, J. D. Rhoades has worked as a radio news reporter, club DJ, television cameraman, ad salesman, waiter, attorney, and newspaper columnist. His weekly column in North Carolina’s The Pilot was twice named best column of the year in its division. The author of The Devil’s Right Hand, Good Day in Hell, Safe and Sound, Breaking Cover, Broken Shield and most recently Devils And Dust (all available from Polis Books) he lives, writes, and practices law in Carthage, NC. Follow him at @jd_rhoades.
The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by J.D. Rhoades
Cover and jacket design by 2Faced Design
Interior designed and formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
ISBN 978-1-940610-84-9
First hardcover edition: February 2016
by Polis Books, LLC
1201 Hudson Street
Hoboken, NJ 07030
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by J.D. Rhoades
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Notice