“I’m Carl Lind, Esquire. Slate has updated me on your situation. If I think you’re entering a gray area, I will ask you to stop.” When he cups his hand and points to the mirror behind his back, I update my opinion of him.
He’s giving me a heads-up, not that I needed it, but I appreciate it all the same.
Using my helpless-female persona, I wring my hands, and squeeze out a couple tears. “I really don’t know anything. Our operative went missing, we came out west to find her, and when we did, bad guys shot at us.”
I consider fluttering my eyelashes, but it’s probably over the top.
My attorney pats my hand. “Do you know who they were, dear? Why they were after you?”
“I told you everything I know.” My eyes wide, I try to emulate Little Orphan Annie.
“The men they picked up had Russian passports.”
Fuck. Figures. So much for blaming the Chinese, the Kings, or my Uncle Vinny’s thugs.
Young, who was probably eavesdropping behind the mirror, steps into the room. “You left the scene of a crime in Long Island. Why?”
“I think you meant to say I legally checked myself out of the hospital.” I raise an eyebrow at Lind and as he nods his approval, my interrogator leans over the table.
“Before we had a chance to debrief you.”
“It’s not my fault your men are so impotent… Sorry, I meant to say incompetent.” When I start humming Kimmy’s penis-weenis song, his face gets red, and he clenches his fists.
“Answer the question, Mrs. Sutcliff.”
“Hmm?” Thinking he could prevent my date with a soft pillow, I sigh and try harder to be less obnoxious. “I’m sorry. You asked why I left. It’s simple. My employee, Lanita Manuel, was not picking up her phone. My husband and I were worried.”
“Most people wouldn’t fly across the country in a private jet because a recent hire went missing.”
“You’d have to ask Montclair. In my experience, the wealthier the client, the weirder their requests.” Because it’s true, my smile turns sincere.
“Regarding him. What reason did he give for hiring you?”
“To investigate stolen goods.”
“What did you find out?”
“About what?”
“The dolls, dammit.” The throbbing in his temple is probably not a good sign but I just can’t stop myself from pushing him a little more over the edge.
“The heads or the bodies?” It’s an honest question but he slaps a hand to his forehead.
“Just tell me what happened in Long Island.”
“You mean where you guys fucked up and went to Perth Amboy instead of the Brooklyn docks?” I should stop busting his balls, but I am sick and tired of talking and want to go home. “If you want the unabridged story, you should ask my husband.”
“I’m asking for your perspective, Ms. Sutcliff.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “We followed a shipment of AI toys to a warehouse in Smithtown. In order to save our client, some liquids were dumped, some English-challenged Asians got angry, and some shots may or may not have been fired.
I tip my head down and take off the cap I’ve been wearing since I left the hospital. “Thirteen stitches.”
Forgetting how much I hate stale croissants, I take a bite, wash it down, then spit the bitter combination into a napkin. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you people? Where was I? Oh yeah. So, after we rescued Montclair, an ambulance brought me to the hospital. That’s when we found out Landy was missing.”
Young starts to interrupt, but I hold out a finger. “Shush.”
When the open mouth shuts, I continue. “CloudTekToys. This is where things get complicated.”
