Shattered Glass(61)

Almost everyone knew the Baby Capone case—if they were alive at the time and in any way involved in law enforcement. An eight-year-old boy taking out a mob boss was headline news. His age made it interesting; his disappearance made it legend. Rumors were that Nikki’s son—Peter, a kid himself—killed the boy and then also vanished.

Anticipating Angelica’s disbelief I added, “They don’t know they have him. Fingerprints will take time, then they’ll have to put two and two together.” Considering it was Del and Marco on the case, two and two might take longer than the fingerprints.

“Then how do you know?” she asked astutely.

“I may or may not be involved with Nikki’s son.”

“The male prostitute?”

Déjà vu. “That would be Peter.”

I imagined Angelica was salivating at the thought of representing this kid. Yet she would still be upset about doing so would be a favor for the man who screwed up our relationship. Namely, me. Regardless, the importance of the case wouldn’t be her chief reason for helping. My asking would be, despite all that went on between us. “What else do I need to know?” she asked me. “…Pauline,” she called excitedly to her secretary.

“Bond is decided at three p.m. today,” I answered. “Kid’s processed under the alias Nicholas Cotton. According to the brother, he’s got an IQ out of the stratosphere and is bipolar. There might be some argument about your being hired by a non-legal guardian, since Peter’s not actually his brother.”

“And?” Before I could answer with my brilliance, she began talking to someone else. “…wipe my schedule for today, and get me guardian ad litem papers. Also I need…”

I waited until she was done instructing Pauline, and then asked, “And what?”

Her huff made me grin. “What’s he being charged with, Austin?”

“Oh.” My brilliance could be measured in milligrams. “Murder.”

“Whose?”

“Prisc Alvarado. Brother’s ex-lover, human trafficker on a case Luis and I were working.”

“He do it?” Angelica, when down to business, was short and to the point.

“I thought the kid was half angel when I met him. Story the brother told makes me think he’s got black wings. Still, Peter’s convinced he didn’t do it.”

“Detectives on the case?” More paper shuffling around her muffled voice. She switched me to speaker phone.

“Delmonico and Marco,” I informed her.

“Can you hustle me through to Nicholas?”

“He goes by Cai. And, no. I’m suspended.”

“Because of the prostitute?” I heard disappointment in her sigh.

“Because I threatened to shove my foot up a fellow detective’s ass in front of half the station.”

“You are your own worst enemy, Austin. What about Luis? Can he get me in?”

“He’s working another angle of the case. They’d have his badge if he started consorting with the defense attorney.”

“Okay. Then I have to go if I want to have any time to talk to Cai before the bond hearing.”

“Angel?”

“You’re welcome.”

I smiled into the phone after she hung up.





Awkward. Life is Awkward.

Monty Python could have made a full-length movie on the amount of awkward that was Luis and Peter in my living room. When I reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs, they both turned to me in hopeful relief; Peter from the wall dividing the kitchen from the main room, and Luis six feet from him on the sofa.

“I see you two have made progress since I’ve been gone.” I went with sarcasm to break the quiet. Grabbing the bottle of Jaeger I’d rejected earlier, I took a seat next to Luis. “Angelica is on her way to Cai. Your part of the bargain is waiting.” I nodded Peter toward the laptop on the coffee table in front of Luis.

“A boca de borracho, oídos de cantinero,” Luis replied.

“English. I speak English, Luis.”

Peter failed to hide a small smile. “It’s a Mexican proverb. It means don’t listen to the drunk guy, all you’ll hear is the bar.”

Before I could do my Bogart-Casablanca impression, Peter seized my Jaeger. I was going to get really tired of his parenting. As soon as he didn’t smell like cinnamon, and his thigh didn’t press quite so closely to mine. Why did he have to sit directly next to me? Wait, I knew that answer—Manipulation 101.

Fucker.

“That one,” Peter leaned over my lap, finger almost reaching the computer screen, “is one of our food suppliers. And that one, laundry services. Payroll company. Garbage pickup.” Luis scrolled down, and Peter quickly pointed again to another row in the spreadsheet. “That one is the company that leases the diner.”