“Anytime. You’d do the same for me.” Johnson handed back his laptop. “So, what is this about? You watching back episodes of South Bend Springs at work?”
“What? How did you…”
Johnson gave a smile fit to scare sharks out of the water. “Your sister talks. Anyhoo, what were you trying to hide from him?”
“Something you, Bo, and Walter need to see, but not here. First, do you still have contacts at Southwestern?
The backyard barbeque at the Smith’s on Saturday night wasn’t all business, though Charlotte left right after, taking Ty, Rone, and Andro home with her. Walter assigned Robinson to watch the house.
Mrs. Smith busied herself elsewhere, while Lucky, Bo, Rett, and Walter gathered in front of Walter’s ginormous television.
Bo worked his magic, projecting from Lucky’s laptop screen onto Walter’s TV.
“Well, sonofabitch,” Johnson exclaimed the moment Landry’s face filled the screen.
No one said a word as the video played. At the end, Walter asked, “When did you get this?”
“This morning.” Had it really been just that morning?
“Play it again, please.” Walter gripped the arms of his chair, gaze riveted to the screen.
After the third round, Johnson twisted around from her place on the carpet to face Walter. “When I got to work, O’Donoghue was in the doorway to the cube. I got the distinct impression he was about to take Lucky’s laptop. I told him Keith needed it and acted like Lucky had been on his way to IT.”
“Landry was his right hand at one time,” Lucky threw in. “If he was suspicious about my laptop, reckon he also suspected his former minion might try to contact me?”
“Fast thinking about the laptop, Loretta, but this doesn’t prove anything. In fact, as evidence, it’s rather flimsy. Landry’s offenses are well known. To make a case, or discover if, indeed, Jameson is involved in a conspiracy, we need proof.” At least the boss no longer jumped to O’Donoghue’s defense. “We also have to consider that this is Landry’s way of moving suspicion from himself to someone else.”
“If it is, he went through a lot of trouble to back up his story.” Lucky handed Walter a stack of printed reports—the results of his and Johnson’s workday. Walter read.
Bo rose from the couch and stood behind Walter’s chair, peering over his shoulder. He let out a whistle. “That’s a lot of names.”
As Landry said, there’d been a turnover in key positions within the various narcotics bureaus over the past year. Several with direct connections to O’Donoghue.
Lucky still hadn’t pinpointed Landry’s role in the personnel changes yet.
“And a lot of power,” Walter added. He stayed quiet for so long Lucky’s nerves began to fray. “Lucky, do you remember how I used to scold you for not trusting Jameson?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. Your gut instincts have seldom been wrong. I should have listened. While this could be Owen Landry’s way of drawing attention away from his own crimes, what does he have to gain from giving you this information?”
What, indeed?
Lucky would rather sit through a root canal without anesthesia than ask Jimmy or anyone else for help, but they needed answers, and they needed them fast.
He sat at the head of the large dining room table the family seldom used, on a Sunday, when he should be lounging around the house or playing with his son. Johnson and Bo sat on one side, Jimmy and Keith on the other. Moose, now coneless, made the rounds from human to human, hoping for tidbits.
Lucky shared the video with Keith and Jimmy.
They sat in stunned silence afterward.
“Jimmy, do you recognize any of these names?” Bo handed over a copy of the list from Landry.
Jimmy’s eyes moved side to side as he read. “I recognize these two. They’re from the Virginia office. One’s a new director, the other is a department manager. They rose up pretty quick through the ranks.”
Johnson took the paper from Jimmy’s hand. “These three are from Southwestern. This pathetic excuse for an agent just got a promotion.”
Seemed like a lot of promotions in a short amount of time. “What happened to whoever he replaced?”
