He proceeded to tell me again, just to rub it in.
We headed across the island to find Shane Phillips. He lived a few blocks from Mason in the Azure Skies apartments. It was a roach trap complex on Lagoon Street. The mint green siding was stained and peeling. It was a series of four unit buildings—two up, two down. The grass was patchy, and the sidewalks overgrown. No covered parking, no security gate. A few anemic palms guarded the property.
Jack found a place to park. We hustled through the complex, found Shane’s building, and jogged up the creaky wooden steps to unit D201.
The pool at the center of the complex hadn’t been maintained. Green with algae, it was a breeding ground for mosquitoes and possibly home to a prehistoric creature or two. A primordial sludge.
After the late-night assault, I figured Shane might still be sleeping. Then again, he could have been coked up and on a three-day bender. You never knew with these types.
I put a heavy fist against the door and shouted, "Coconut County! Open up!"
I didn't have probable cause. I couldn't kick down the door. But I was 100% certain Shane was Mason’s accomplice on the failed ambush.
I nodded to Jack, and he hustled down the steps and moved around to the back of the building to watch the balcony. It would be an easy escape for Shane if need be. But the smart play was to shut up and not answer the door. Shane didn't exactly strike me as the intellectual type.
I banged another heavy fist.
Footsteps padded down the foyer a few moments later. The peephole flickered as he peered through. "What do you want?”
"I just have a few questions for you."
"I don't talk to cops. Please leave."
Shane was a little smarter than he looked. From his mug shot, he was 6”, well built with a slick head, narrow blue eyes, and a rugged jaw with a dimpled chin. He had the nose of a boxer, and I had no doubt he’d seen his fair share of bar fights.
"I'm sure you're probably aware by now, but your friend, Mason, is dead."
"Yeah, heard about that.”
"You were pretty close with Mason, right?"
"Yeah. So?"
"You guys grew up together.”
"What's that got to do with anything?”
"I bet you're pretty upset about his demise."
"I'm not happy about it.”
"I bet you'd like to kill the person who did it.”
Shane said nothing.
He could have been on the other side of the door with a shotgun for all I knew. This probably wasn't the smartest tactic in the world.
"Mason tried to kill a cop last night,” I said. “But I'm sure you already knew that, didn't you?"
35
"Idon't know what you're talking about," Shane replied.
"Let's stop playing games,” I shouted through the door. “Someone hired you to kill the investigating officers. I want to know who.”
Mason and Shane were meathead enforcers. Nothing more.
"I don't know what you're talking about.”
