Authors: Teri Riggs
“In other words, you have no intention of telling me where you’re getting your information.” Kennedy sighed.
Tommy O’Brien winked at his granddaughter and patted her hand. “That’s my lass, sharp as a tack. I’ve no intention of telling you who my connections are. You have your informants, I have mine. Let’s just keep it that way.”
“Grandpa, you drive me nuts with all the secret shit. I’m your goddamned granddaughter for Christ’s sake.”
“Thank goodness your dear, sweet grandmother, God rest her soul, isn’t around to hear you using our sweet Lord’s name like that.” He quickly made the sign of the cross across his che
st.
Kennedy put her hands on her hips. “She heard a lot worse coming out of your mouth the fifty odd years she was married to your sorry butt.”
Grandpa grabbed at his heart. “Not only does she curse, but now she’s disrespecting her own Grandfather.”
Kennedy slapped his hand. “You’re something else, Grandpa. I’m not sure what, but definitely, something else.”
Wilder was leaning against the wall, watching them with evident enjoyment. “Bravo, bravo, Tommy. One of your finer performances, I’d say. You were magnificent as always.”
Tommy took a bow. “Always happy to please. It’s a treat to have someone to perform for that’s under the age of seventy.”
Grandpa winked at Kennedy a moment before his face grew serious. “My source says you need to look at the two front runners in the race for mayor. He says the race is tight and one of the candidates wants to keep the legalization of prostitution issue in the headlines. More air time, more votes.”
“Campenelli or
St. Louis
?”
Grandpa shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“How reliable do you think your source is?” Wilder asked skeptically.
“He’s never let me down before. I don’t see why he would now. He did say he’d re-check. But I told him it’d be a stretch to believe either one of them could be involved in murder.”
“Grandpa, anyone can be involved in murder.”
“I’ve met Nick Campenelli. He’s a good lad. Helps out with the kids over at the new Rec Center. You know the one they bus us old farts over to volunteer at. We mostly go to help because it gets us out of here a few hours a month. I think Campenelli goes because he really wants to help the kids. It’s not a publicity thing; he never allows the press to follow.”
“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t be using murder as a means to gain sympathy for the prostitutes. You know, something like, ‘let’s legalize prostitution and get the hookers into brothels where it’s safer. Clean up the streets. Earn the tax dollars.’ He’s a business man. It’s all about the numbers, and if you have to sacrifice a few for the greater good, well so be it.”
Wilder shook his head. “That’s really reaching.”
“I know. I’m just throwing out ideas. Something’s bound to stick.” “Fair enough.”
“Grandpa, what about the other top candidate, Louis
St. Louis
?”
“
St. Louis
is some sort of a religious fanatic. I don’t know jack crap about him except he used to be an up and coming Mormon big shot. You’ll have to figure out if he has a motive on your own because I sure as hell don’t see one.”
The older man moved to a chair, gripped both arm rests and slowly lowered himself into it. “He can’t be too dangerous, unless of course he wants to beat the hooey out of you with his Bible. You might call him a... Bible Beater.” He smiled weakly. “Sorry guys, I couldn’t resist.”
“That was so, so bad, Grandpa. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“What can I say? I’m an old man. We’re supposed to tell bad jokes.”
Wilder shook his head. “Old or young, no one should be allowed to tell a joke that bad. I should arrest your ass.”
“We need to scoot, Grandpa. Wilder and I will do some research on our esteemed mayoral candidates and maybe have a chat with them. What do you think, Wilder?”
“I think you and I are on the same wavelength. Let’s hit the precinct. How
about we grab a coffee on the way? Maybe splurge and hit one of the fancy coffee
shops.”
“Sounds good.” Kennedy ran a hand across her grandfather’s shoulder, and then gave it a quick pat. “Thanks for the tip. Let me know if your source hears anything else.” She kissed the top of his head. “See you, Grandpa.”
He laid his large, wrinkled hand over one of hers. “Bye, lass. Don’t forget lunch next Sunday. I’ll try to come up with some more jokes for you by then.”
Tommy shook hands with Wilder. “Don’t be such a stranger, son. Keep an eye on my little lass.”
“Your little lass would kick my ass if I tried to keep an eye on her.” He tipped his head in her direction. “She does okay, Tommy. Don’t worry so much about her. She’s a good cop. Comes from a line of good cops.”
As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of Wilder winking at Tommy, then heard the slap of his shoes on the tile floor as he followed her out the door. A gust of hot air rushed over her when she stepped into the afternoon heat. She counted off the seconds until she’d be sitting in the Crown Vic, feeling the blast of air-conditioning washing over her.
Wilder got in the car and buckled his seat belt. “Kenny, you’re always so relaxed—almost playful—around Tommy. Why can’t you relax like that more often?”
“I’m always relaxed, Wilder. I just don’t believe in acting like a bubbly schoolgirl when I’m working. I’m sociable enough.”
“No, you’re not.” He started the car. “At Metro, you hardly speak to anyone besides me, unless it’s about a case. And when’s the last time you went out for drinks with the rest of us after work?”
“I go for drinks. Once in a while.”
“The few times you do join us, you hardly speak. Most of the guys think getting you to talk is like interrogating a suspect.”
“I don’t believe in talking just to fill up dead space.” They’d had this conversation so many times. Didn’t he ever get tired of it?
“I’m just saying that it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more sociable. A little more relaxed. Have fun once in a while.”
“Sure Wilder, I’ll be sure to pencil in ‘having fun’ right between my manicure and pedicure appointment. My goodness, my social calendar is filling up fa
st.
Pretty soon I won’t even have time for dead bodies.”
“There’s more to life than dead bodies.” “Somebody has to find the killers.”
“Don’t get all blown out of shape, Kenny. It’s just an observation.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I like my life the way it is. I don’t need anyone
besides you and Grandpa. I don’t have time for any other commitments.”
“No, you won’t make time for anyone else. You don’t want to be let down again. And Tommy and I are not commitments. We’re family.”
She slumped in her seat, crossed her arms and looked out the window. “Can we change the subject, please? I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Sure, let’s change the subject.” He sounded frustrated. Well, welcome to the club.
The car cooled rapidly, sending chills over her exposed skin. Except for the occasional crackle of radio chatter, they drove in silence.
Thirty minutes later, Kennedy and Wilder were sitting at her desk, drinking their designer coffee and scrolling through the information they’d pulled up on the computer.
“Wilder, this mayoral race really is close between Campenelli and
St. Louis
. Poor Mayor Hildicam and the other candidates aren’t even on the same page. Hell, they’re not even a footnote.”
“Yep, it really looks like a two-way race so far. Maybe someone should tell the others to hold on to their campaign bucks.”
Kennedy read some more. “Legalize prostitution in Clark County? I wonder if that will cause more work for Vice or less.”
“I’d say less. Vice won’t have to waste so much time hauling in the girls off the streets. Hookers already work Vegas, legal or not.”
“You know, if Campenelli becomes mayor and manages to get the voters to legalize prostitution, there’ll be some big tax dollars up for grabs.”
“I guess you could say no matter how the vote goes, some people are still going to get screwed.” Wilder wiggled his eye brows.
“Funny, Wilder. Real funny. You and Grandpa should take your act on the
road.”
Wilder drained the last drop of coffee from his cup. “That was much better than the creeping crud they call coffee here at the station. There should be a law against serving the sludge they give us here. I try to limit myself to only drinking it when I’m constipated. It clears me right out!” He patted his gut.
That was an image she didn’t even want to think about. “Metro’s coffee will kill us eventually, but you can’t beat the price. Free is much easier on my piggy bank than this three dollar and fifty cent cup of coffee is. I could’ve bought two new spark plugs with what I paid for this stuff.”
“I don’t believe it, and the older that heap of yours gets, the more it’s going to cost to keep it running.”
Wilder never missed a chance to give her another sell the Mustang-it’s-too-expensive-to-keep pitch. She bit the inside of her lips and ignored it like all the others.
Wilder wheeled his rolling chair to his desk, opposite hers, and slipped smoothly back into the coffee conversation. “You’ve got to look at paying extra for a decent cup of joe as spending money on your health. Like you said, the coffee here will kill you. That three-fifty you just spent probably added an extra day, maybe two, to your life span.”
“You could be right about that.” She slurped down the last expensive drop, and was tempted to lick the inside of the cup. Instead, she pulled a bag of taffy from her desk drawer and dug into it.
“Where do you think Tommy comes up with all his information?” Wilder asked. “He always seems to know everything. It’d suck if I had to move into that nursing home to get the kind of connections he has.”
“Not only would that suck, but Sally wouldn’t care for it too much either.” Sally was Wilder’s wife, a woman Kennedy adored. “By the way, it’s not a nursing home. It’s the ‘Boys Club.’ Best not let Grandpa hear you call it anything different. But to answer your question, who the hell knows where Grandpa gets his info from? He just gets it is all I know, and usually what he gets is pretty damned accurate.”
“You’re right, the tips are usually solid. But I’m thinking today’s might be the exception, he didn’t sound real shot in the ass with it. He thinks Campenelli’s a good guy.”
“I agree for the most part. Look at the list of good deeds our mayor hopeful has under his name.” Wilder rolled back to her side. “He’s loaded. He not only gives money to dozens of charities, but he’s on the board of several of them. It says here that he volunteers at least six hours a week at these places. Where the hell does he find the time to do that and run a business conglomerate as big as his is? What is he, fucking Superman?”
Sounding impressed, he said, “Which, I know, doesn’t mean he couldn’t commit a murder or two, but a billionaire who does good deeds. Sounds more like Bruce Wayne. Maybe he’s freakin’ Batman.”
Kennedy grumbled, “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. Give me fifteen minutes with him and I’ll find out what, if anything is going on with our Batman billionaire. I’ll see right through him if he’s not on the up and up.”
“Right. Chew him up and spit him out, hey?”
“Damn straight.” Kennedy pulled the file up on Louis
St. Louis
. “Look at this
St. Louis
guy. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man I’d want running the show down at the city hall. The guy definitely has issues with prostitutes. It says here, and I quote, ‘We must rid the city of all prostitutes at any
co
st
.
These women are evil and a threat to our city as well as society as a whole. They must be stopped.’ Now that shit’s scary. Plain old scary.”
He whistled. “Look at his
pa
st
.
A bit too much religion for my taste. Looks like the snake handler variety. Wonder what he did to lose his church? I bet there’s a story behind that. Let’s put in a call to Salt Lake and get the scoop.”
“See this, Wilder.
St. Louis
was thrown out of two churches in less than eight years. He must be a real loser.”
“Agreed.” Wilder pushed his chair back and stood. After stretching his back one direction and then the other, he grabbed the chair and pushed it back around to his desk.
“I need to call home and let Sally know I’m taking six, maybe eight hours, down time tonight. She’ll want to gussy up for me.”
She lifted a brow. “Special occasion tonight?”
“Nope, just stepping back and hoping I’ll see this case with fresh eyes in the morning. It won’t hurt to spend time with my wife. Maybe I’ll get to spend the whole night with her without getting any calls from this place and, no offense, maybe no calls from you. I might even get lucky and score tonight if I play my cards right. I think I’ll stop and pick up a few roses for the little woman.”