“Enough. Get to the point,” I cut him off.
“The judge signed and executed a search warrant in connection with Saira Quinn.”
“Connection?” I snapped. “Legal jargon, I get it, but don’t dress her up with the respect she doesn’t deserve.”
“Listen, I’m on your side,” Frank reminded me. “Your informant’s confession contained enough to put her away, provided it holds up. The judge found it credible. Reliable.”
“Good.”
Frank hesitated. I heard his breath hitch before he went on. “There’s more. My team recovered a body last night. Head, feet, hands all gone. But the ink was still there. An executioner tattooed across the right bicep.”
I leaned into the silence. “Oh?”
“The victim fits the description of the man who assisted in the assault on your friend, Julian. We also recovered another body not long ago. Decomposed, washed up on the shore. Samestory. Head, arms, and legs cut off. When we finally located the head, the tongue was gone.”
My jaw locked. My hand slipped out of my pocket, fingers twitching against my thigh. “What are you saying, Frank?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing at all. We’ve got suspicions. Some men from a motorcycle club, but nothing that will stick. As far as I’m concerned, these are cold cases.” He paused, then muttered, “Right now, we’re in the middle of a drug war. The department’s stretched thin. We need resources.”
I drew a slow breath, let it out, forcing the tension from my hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Scotty. I knew I could count on you. You’re a saint.”
“I’m no saint,” I scoffed, then steered the conversation to a more pleasant topic. “Hey, about the house by the coast that you’ve been talking about. How’s that going?”
“It’s a nice early retirement gift,” Frank said, warmth slipping in his voice. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, I need one last favor. Do you like flying?”
“It depends on what you mean.” Frank chuckled. “Will I land in one piece, alive, and unharmed?”
“Of course,” I promised. “We’re friends. You’ll join me on a short flight to meet the woman you’ll arrest. We’ll time it with your search of her home.”
“My team will have to confirm all the evidence before I make the arrest.”
“Everything will be there,” I assured.
Julian’s confession had it mapped out clearly: Saira’s stash of narcotics, files on drug trafficking and illegal prostitution, and the loaded gun near Damian’s room. Still, one call to Lou would ensure plenty of evidence in her home. Better to salt theground myself than risk a single seed slipping through. I never left stones unturned when it came to my enemies.
“Scotty, I’ve got to go. Promised my wife I’d take the grandkids to the park.”
“I won’t keep them waiting. Enjoy your day.”
I set the phone on my desk. Vera stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyebrow arched. She didn’t need to ask what I’d been discussing. That curve on her lips gave nothing away, yet promised everything. A Mona Lisa smile, and mine to read.
“Jules and Saph left,” she said. “They both agreed it’s time to strike.”
“Indeed,” I replied, yawning. It had been a long day.
“I want that viper to pay for what she did.” There was no snarl, no malice, and no anger in Vera’s face. Her dark eyes were cold like basalt. I knew basalt well: once heated, it could scorch through flesh and bone.
I shifted the subject. “Don’t forget tomorrow night. We’re meeting Angelo, Lou, and their partners at the country club.”
“Angelo Lucciano.” Vera’s mouth curved. “Handsome man. He’s a great poster boy for the mafia in this city. Will his baby cousin be there too?”
