As Slate’s brows raise, I jump in to explain. “His name is Dashiell Montclair. He alleges to be working for an insurance company but won’t say who. He also says he’s investigating the theft of a shipment of dolls.”
“Does he know I set the C4?” If you never met Slate, you probably wouldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but we’ve worked and played together for years.
“Well, here’s the thing. He didn’t ask and I sure as hell didn’t bring it up.” If word got out he blew up a containerful of fentanyl stuffed toys, it could ruin this company’s reputation.
Now don’t get me wrong. We had a lot of excellent reasons for not going to the Feds, but I’m guessing they wouldn’t agree.
At the thought of how damaging secrets can be, I decide it’s time to ’fess up about the armed King at the train station. “Ah… now don’t get mad, sugar, but I had a slight altercation the other day. He was just a kid and-”
“Altercation?” If this were a cartoon, steam would be hissing out of my wife’s head.
“Would you prefer interaction?” I think I’m hilarious, but she clamps both her hands over Mikey’s ears and raises her voice.
“Dammit Suds. Out with it. And no blathering.”
“Shit. You take the fun out of everything.” A world-renowned rambler, it’s damn difficult for me to be precise but I give it my best shot. “A teenage gangbanger tried to take me out, but I sent him back to Michigan. I gave him a bullet hole in his hand and a warning for his boss, Luis Delgado.”
“And you’re only telling me now?” My sweet and forgiving wife rolls her eyes.
Slate quiets her by sending a sharp look, then directs his gaze at me. “Did he say why they want you dead?”
“No, but I bet they think Vinny blew up the truck and they’re targeting his family members.”
At Sam’s gasp, I reach across the table and hold her hand. “Honey, they chose an expendable kid from out of town because he didn’t know any better. I’m sure, by now, the rest of the gang is laughing their asses off, wondering why he’s not dead.”
The Patten boss nods. “They were sending him a message. They lost a shitload of money when their truck exploded.”
As for me, I’d have no problem handing the mobster to The Kings. However, her side of the family think he’s a hero. For instance, after their dad died, he took care of Rose and Mia and made sure their mother’s hair salon stayed afloat. I personally don’t think it makes up for all the crimes he’s committed, but if I want harmony in my marriage, it’s best to keep some opinions to myself.
While I ponder the drama, otherwise known as my life, my boss, projects a news article on the wall. “As you can see, there’s no mention of fentanyl.”
Sam scrunches up her face. “That’s weird. Did it all burn off in the fire?”
“Probably not, but the authorities had no reason to test for it. For now, we’re in the clear.”
“What reasoning do they give for the explosion?” Having a police chief for a dad means she never leaves a question unasked.
Like me, my friend takes her interrogations all in stride. “It’s under investigation.”
“Can they trace the C4 to Patten?”
At her frown, Slate shakes his head. “No. I bought it on the black market. I also sent a team to pick up our shell casings. The op was clean.”
I whistle through my teeth and add my two cents. “No wonder Montclair’s insurance company is interested.”
Stretching, my wife stands and paces by the windows, occasionally glancing down on Fifth Avenue. “But he’s right. Someone inside CloudTekToys had to have known about the opiate-filled dolls.”
Slate pours Oaty-O’s on the conference room table in front of my son and grabs a handful for himself. “Anyone else?”
“No, no, I’m good.” I chuckle. “I’ve been weaning myself off.”
Sam sits and points at the space in front of her. “Hit me.”
While they crunch, I can’t help but conclude. “We need to tell the DEA.”
My pretty woman shoots me a grimace and nods. “And stop the shipments for good.”
“Keep me in the loop.” The security supervisor glances at his phone and lifts Mikey out of the chair. “Sorry buddy, I got a senator and a multi-million-dollar deal waiting in the lobby.”
