Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.
I withdraw my finger and loosen my grip. “Name.”
“I don’t know, man. Viktor? Vlad? Started with a V.”
“Valentin? Scrawny guy, glasses, resembles an accountant?” I describe an old friend of my father’s. He never spent a day in jail, let alone prison, so if Benny takes the bait, he’s a lying piece of trash.
Benny’s throat bobs. “Yeah, could be. Didn’t pay that much attention.”
Little weasel. Let’s see how far he’s willing to go with this story. Oftentimes, lies contain a kernel of truth.
“What did they talk about?”
“I told you, they kept it quiet. But…” He hesitates.
I unsheathe a knife from my waistband and scrape the blade across my thumbnail. “But?”
Benny’s breathing rate accelerates as his eyes fixate on my weapon. He lifts his palms in the air. “But MJ had paperssometimes. Like, documents. I saw him showing this Valentin guy once. They argued. Valentin kept saying he needed more proof.”
My pulse quickens, and my knuckles whiten around the bone handle. “Proof of what?”
Benny shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I swear. MJ never told me directly. But after that meeting, he acted different. Jumpy. Started working out more, like he was scared or preparing for an attack.”
“The papers.” I sheathe the knife. “What happened to them?”
“MJ kept them hidden.” Benny reaches up and gingerly rubs his eye. “Had a spot in our cell…loose brick in the wall. But they disappeared the day before his release. He must’a taken them.”
My mind spins. Evidence. MJ had evidence worth killing for.
And now those papers are missing.
Benny squirms. “We good? I told you what I know.”
“Not everything.” I shoot him a glare that abruptly halts his fidgeting. “Besides you, who did MJ talk to after he got out?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was he afraid of?” As far as I know, no one frightened my brother, but I still have to ask. People change, especially after doing time.
“I don’t know.”
Each response frays the thread of my patience a little more. “Who would want him dead?”
“I truly don’t know!” Benny’s voice rises, panic trickling in. “I keep telling you that we weren’t that close!”
In one fluid motion, I ram my forearm across his throat, trapping him to the wall for a second time. “I’m getting really fucking tired of your lies,kakashka.”
“Please.” He wheezes for air. “I’m not?—”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’ve told you…everything I know.” Another gasp. “Which is…jack shit. MJ didn’t trust me like that. He wouldn’t have told me…anything.”
The fucker’s eyes slant to the side. I can tell there’s more he isn’t sharing with me.
“No.” I ease up on his neck. “He wrote me while he was inside. Said you were a good cellmate. Someone he could trust. I think you set him up.” My words are a stretch, a gamble, but what Benny doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“What? No!” The denial comes too quickly and too forcefully. “Why would I do that?”
