He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to dump her career over the wrong guy. I figure I’ll be helping you out when I finally put Devlin away for good.” He reached into his desk drawer for a file folder, this one a bright and sparkling purple. “I printed out Devlin’s rap sheet for you, just in case you’d like a reminder.” His eyes were hard, but his voice resigned.
“Huh.” I took the folder. “Where are you finding these bizarre folders?”
“In the supply closet,” he said, finishing the bear claw and reaching for his coffee again. “They pretty much scream your name to me, so there you go.”
I didn’t need to see the rap sheet again. Sometimes it kept me up at night.
“Let me remind you,” Pierce said. “Armed robbery, grand theft auto, drug distribution, assault, and battery—all with not nearly enough prison time. In addition, he was a person of interest in several homicides connected to the motorcycle gang he rode with in Portland before they were patched over by the Lordes.”
I flattened my hand over the file folder. “Yeah, and I’m not buying it all. There’s no way he wouldn’t have done more time for those crimes.” Yet, the prison system wasn’t the best right now, and felons were let out all the time.
“You know I can have him picked up any time for a weapons violation, right? Felons can’t have guns,” Pierce said.
“I don’t think he has one,” I said. “At least on him, and he’s not going to admit to having one.”
Pierce sighed. “Tell me you really haven’t convinced yourself that those charges are fake. I’ve checked with every contact I have with the FBI and DEA, and Devlin isn’t working for them. He’s not even an informant.”
Yeah, so had Nick. They were both trying to help me out, but my instincts had to count for something. “If they are true, then he’s turning his life around.” I sounded lame, but I couldn’t help it. “He’s trying to remake the Lordes into pursuing legitimate businesses.”
“Bullshit,” Pierce said bluntly. He shook his head. “Just stay out of the way when we take him down. I’d hate to pinch you as an accessory for anything.”
“You’re not being a very nice friend.” I jerked my head toward the very nice latte I’d purchased for him.
He rolled his eyes. “We are not friends.”
Well, that hurt a little bit. “What are we, then?”
He shook his head. “Until you get fired, we’re colleagues. I’d try to help out any woman throwing her entire life away like this.”
When Pierce wanted to be a condescending ass, he excelled at it. Even so, I held back on calling him on it. “Have you received the autopsy report on Danny Pucci yet?”
“Yep.” Pierce finished his latte and tossed the empty paper latte cup toward the garbage can in the corner, easily nailing it. “Pucci died from a bullet to the head, which is not surprising. He had lacerations from a beating from a day or so before, more bruises from a beating a week or so before, and a nice amount of meth in his system.”
“Meth? Great,” I muttered.
“Yep. Your boyfriend was hanging out with a guy high on meth, and didn’t you say the Lordes were out of the drug game?” Pierce rifled through the myriad of case files and pieces of paper across his desk and pulled one from the bottom, nudging it my way. “Take a look at Pucci, just so you know who you’re dealing with.”
I opened the file folder to see pictures of Pucci that clearly showed the bruises and cuts. “Ouch.”
“Weren’t Devlin’s knuckles torn from what had to be beating on somebody?” Pierce asked casually.
There wasn’t a good answer to that question, so I didn’t bother. I peered closer at the picture of the tattoo on Pucci’s upper arm. “That looks like the same one I saw poking out of his cousin Rich’s shirt.” It was a heart with a sword through the middle and some initials above it. “What’s BGC?”
“Dunno yet,” Pierce said, reaching for a piece of paper. “I haven’t been able to get Kelsey Walker or her sister to talk to me about either Pucci or this Rich fellow. But you’ve now given me a place to start. Thanks for that.”
Chapter 20
After giving Pierce a tip I hadn’t known I had, I drove back to Kelsey’s house, and she wasn’t home. Taking a chance, I maneuvered through the main area of town and then farther north to Walker’s Funeral Home. The place was a large white building attached to what looked like a nondenominational church, set about two miles from the Elk County cemetery. Bright and beautiful flowers extended around the grounds, and big pots overflowing with Petunias were set up on the wooden porch with its two white and charming columns.
Majestic groves of tamarack and different species of pine extended on both sides, and a couple of pretty blue spruce trees stood tall on the front lawn. It was peaceful and welcoming. During the heated day, Robins bobbed all over the grassy area, and I could see the edge of a birdbath.
I parked in the lot to the side and walked along the cobbled way to the front door, opening it and stepping inside the main foyer. Heat blasted me.
Kelsey looked up from behind an antique desk in the small reception area, her hair frizzing around her head and her suit jacket hanging over the back of her chair. “Anna.” She paled and wiped sweat off her brow. Serene pictures of fields and animals graced the wall behind her, and gentle music played in the background.
I grimaced. “Whoa, it’s hot in here. The A/C is out?”
She blew hair out of her face. “Yeah. We have somebody coming to fix it, but the place was shut down all night, and it’s hotter than heck. Hopefully they can fix it fast because the generators only work on the embalming and crematorium levels, and the last place I want to hang out is down there. It’s so creepy. What are you doing here?”
