Sixth Grave on the Edge(48)
“Sure did,” I said, taking a sip myself. “I still am, actually, but I have a strong lead.”
Though her pretty expression remained impassive, her emotions spiked inside her. She really wanted to solve that case for her father. And I wanted that for her, but I had a more pressing case at the moment.
She was reaching for her coffee again when I said, “Emily Michaels.”
She paused and looked up at me, but before she could say anything, a server brought my food over.
“Aren’t you eating?” I asked her.
“No. I didn’t know you were eating.”
“I’m eating. You should order something.”
“What did you get?”
“Tuna melt.”
“Is it good?”
“Emily Michaels,” I reminded her. I felt like she was changing the subject on purpose.
“Why do you want to know about Emily Michaels?”
“Because.”
Her lips thinned. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you. The man who held a gun to my head said no cops.”
Her mouth dropped open. I totally considered tossing a fry into it just to see if I could, but this was probably not the best time.
“Can I talk to her?” I asked.
“No.”
“Can you set up a meet?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me where she is?”
“No.”
Damn, she was tough. The FBI probably taught her how to withstand interrogation. I’d never met such resistance. Such pure determination. Maybe if I asked nicely.
“I won’t actually use that information,” I said, as though that would help. “I just need it as a backup. They said they are going to kill a friend of mine if I don’t get it.”
“Then give them a fake address and call me. I’ll have a team there to intercept. You can testify against these men. Wham bam.”
“And then what? Go into WITSEC with Emily? No, thank you.”
“Well, if you think there is even the slightest possibility that I’d give you that location, you’re wrong.”
I figured as much. “Why did they choose me, though?” I asked aloud.
“Probably because they know our connection.”
“What connection?”
“We’re friends, for one thing,” she said with a shrug.
Score! “Right. Of course.” I knew we were friends. I could now die happy. “And for another?”
“You’re a PI. They probably thought you could set up a lunch with me and just ask me to hand over that information.”
I snorted. “Crazy people. Who would think such a thing?”
“I wonder,” she said, her expression deadpan. “I do need to report this, Charley.”
“You can’t. No cops, remember?”
“Sorry. I can’t keep that kind of information to myself. If Brinkman’s men are getting that desperate, we’re getting close. We could use this to our advantage.”
“What about my advantage? And my friend’s advantage they are supposedly going to kill, though I’m beginning to think they don’t really know who my closest friends are.”
“Finish up,” she said, nodding to my sandwich. “I’ll need you to come to my office to make a statement.”
“Sack! No way.”
“I’ll sneak you in through the back. You can leave your Jeep here.”
Son of a bitch. “I’m sorry,” I said, rising from the table, “but I can’t risk it. If they get a whiff of an investigation where this is concerned, things could go very south very quickly.”
Her expression changed to one void of all emotion. “I’ll cuff you, Charley. I can arrest you on charges of obstruction of justice and hold you until you cooperate.”
I sat back down. “And I thought we were friends.”
“We are, which is why I’m going to get all the information on this that I can and investigate. It’s what I do. Let me help you for once.”
Surely I had smoke billowing out of my ears. “You’ve always trusted me in the past, and I’ve solved a couple of pretty big cases for you. Or have you forgotten?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Son of a— Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make a preliminary report stating there is a strong probability of an attempt on Emily’s life. You have forty-eight hours.”
I knew she’d let me do this my way. Hopefully things wouldn’t go south.
“But if this turns south, we are doing it my way.”
Sometimes I wondered if Sack could read my mind. Really good friends could do that.
11
It’s a beautiful day.
I think I’ll skip my meds and stir things up a bit.
—BUMPER STICKER