“Who’s as slick as owl shit. Also, real bad news. There’s been another hit since Nelson.”
“Another agent?”
“No, one of Oz’s dealers. Flashy guy. Flamboyant, loud-mouthed, big spender, and therefore dangerous to the operation.”
“Killed the same way as Nelson?”
“Yes. And now Paul Adler and that girl. Choked with what the ME guessed was a razor-sharp garrote. We believe Roland Malone not only has fingers in Oz’s business, but that he’s Oz’s executioner of choice.”
“What does the snitch say about it?”
“Not a goddamn thing. He stonewalls on anything regarding Malone, which, of course, makes us believe Malone does Oz’s wet work. But he does it so cleanly, we can’t nail him.”
In the six months since that conversation, neither the DEA nor any other agency had gathered evidence strong enough to get Roland Malone indicted. And they had to have Malone before they had a prayer of getting to the overlord he worked for: the faceless mastermind nicknamed Oz.
Mitch took another cautious look around the bar. Gus was schmoozing three young women who’d ventured in and were being ogled by the construction workers. No one appeared to beinterested in Mitch, but paranoia was ingrained.
He asked, “Any significant evidence found at the crime scene on Bayou Coeur?”
“They’re still looking.”
“That means either no or you’re not telling.”
“That means they’re still looking, Mitch.”
“I was told the victims weren’t killed at the scene. Bodies were dumped, just like Nelson’s was.”
“So was the talkative dealer’s,” Tucker said.
“In Bayou Coeur?”
“No. He was found in a lake across the river in Mississippi.”
Mitch took a moment to process all this, then said, “The Adler hit has Malone’s imprint all over it. You know that, Jim. Talk to me.”
“Damn you, Mitch,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. We’re not advertising that we’re involved in this investigation. Not yet. It would be like switching on the light in a room full of roaches. They’d scatter.”
“But you’re looking at Malone?”
“Discreetly.”
“But closely.”
“Discreetly, Mitch. And I mean it.”
“I got it, I got it. Just keep me posted.”
“If I can.”
“You owe me, Jim.”
“For what?”
“For setting you up with… what was her name? Teresa? Terry?”
“We had one date!”
“Not my fault you mucked it up.”
