Chapter 49 Poe
POE
We could have told them to fuck off. They didn’t have a warrant and they wouldn’t have had any choice except to leave.
But that seemed like a bad idea. We’d always operated in Blackwell Falls like we had nothing to hide.
We’d set up cash businesses — laundromats, car washes, vending machines — to launder our money and protect our businesses.
Our CPA, a member of the Blades, was skilled and careful, ensuring that we paid taxes on every penny of reported income.
As for the other stuff — the bloody stuff — we were careful there too.
We had a handful of trusted representatives who brought people to the barn when they needed to be reminded who was in charge, and on the rare occasion when it became necessary to do enforcement in town, we did it in places where there weren’t cameras, wore gloves and our masks, just in case.
Turning away the cops when their stated purpose was just to ask a few questions would draw more attention to us.
And yeah, it was our constitutional right to deny entry without a warrant, but that didn’t mean shit in the suspicion department.
If we told the detectives to fuck off, they’d wonder what we were trying to hide and might dig even deeper into our operations.
“You own the building?” Detective Grabowski asked as we led them up the stairs to the loft.
If they were even mildly competent at their jobs, they already knew the answer to the question, but I answered it anyway. “Yep. We’re interested in preservation, making sure the town isn’t totally overrun by tourists looking for a second home.”
I threw that in for good measure, because if they knew about our ownership of the loft they’d know about our ownership of other buildings in town.
“Wow,” Detective Rodriguez said when we stepped into the loft’s expansive main living area. “Cool place.”
“Thanks.” Bram and Remy were already in the living room, clearly prepared thanks to Maeve’s text.
I had to give them credit: they did a good job of looking surprised by the fact that Maeve and I had brought guests.
“This is Detective Rodriguez and Detective Grabowski. They have some questions about one of their investigations.”
“You have a warrant?” Bram was asking because he’d be stupid not to ask, and because not asking might also tip them off that we’d given Bram and Remy a heads up.
Detective Rodriguez shook her head. “And you have every right to tell us to kick rocks if that’s what you want to do.”
Bram seemed to consider it, then shook his head.
“Can I get you anything?” Remy asked. “Coffee? Water? Something to eat?”
Detective Grabowski started to answer but Rodriguez shut him down. “We’re good.”
Grabowski was obviously disappointed, and from the extra padding around his stomach I guessed he was no stranger to taking subjects up on their offer of snacks.
“We can sit.” I gestured at the sofa and chairs in the living room.
Bram made a point of taking one of the chairs and Remy took the other. If we’d ceded the chairs to the Detectives we would have felt like kids being questioned by our parents.
Maeve and I sat at one end of the sofa while the two deceives took the other end.
Detective Rodriguez removed a notebook from her pocket. “Mind stating your full names?”
“Is this an official inquiry?” Remy asked.
“Not at all. Just want to make sure I have it all down.”
We stated our names. Maeve went last.
“Do you live here too?” Deceive Rodriguez asked her.
Maeve hesitated.
“Yes,” Bram said. “This is her permanent residence.”
I caught the flicker of surprise in Maeve’s eyes and hoped Bram hadn’t overstepped. Then again, of there was anyone in the world who didn’t give a shit about overstepping, it was Bram.
“Mind letting her answer for herself?” Detective Rodriguez asked him.
“It’s my permanent residence,” Maeve said, her voice strong.
It was the wrong time to feel my spirits soar but they did all the same because there was nothing I wanted more than for it to be true that Maeve would be here with us forever.
Detective Rodriguez wrote in her notebook.”What do you know about the local girls that have gone missing?”
“Nothing,” Bram said.
“We’ve heard about it,” Remy added. “Obviously. But other than that we haven’t heard a word.”
“You seem to have your ear to the ground here,” Detective Grabowski said. “You haven’t heard any gossip about who might be responsible?”
“I thought you caught the people responsible,” Maeve said. “The guys from Aventine, that real estate developer and his son.”
It was smart for Maeve to let on that she knew more than we did about the missing girls.
You couldn’t be a woman in the world and not be aware of your inherent vulnerability — something I’d only begun to really understand because of Maeve — and that went double if a bunch of girls your age had been kidnapped in our hometown.
“They were apprehended for a certain set of crimes,” Detective Rodriguez said. “But there are loose ends, other things we haven’t figured out, women still missing.”
“Why would we know anything about it?” I asked. “And please don’t insult our intelligence with that “nose to the ground” bullshit.”
If she was surprised that I called her out, it didn’t show on her face. She was good, letting the silence sit between us, waiting for us to rush in to fill it.
We didn’t.
“Truth is, we got a tip,” she finally said.
Maeve shook her head. “A tip?”
“A tip that your friends here are involved in the kidnapping and sex trafficking of local women.” Detective Grabowski was clearly trying to freak out Maeve.
Bram leaned back, his posture casual, his expression placid. “Sounds like a prank.”
Detective Rodriguez shrugged. “Women are missing. We have to run down everything.”
Bram shook his head. “I’m sorry we can’t help. I’m sure you know we’ve got sizable investments in Blackwell Falls. Crime — especially violent crime, sex crime — is bad for business, bad for property values.”
Sometimes it still surprised me that Bram could sound like a business nerd when the occasion called for it.
“Unless that crime is your business,” Detective Grabowski said.
Bram’s gaze hardened.
“Except it’s not,” Remy said. “We own a couple laundromats, a car wash, some property.’
“Jack of all trades huh?” Detective Grabowski asked, making it clear he didn’t buy it.
Remy shook his head. “We’re real estate developers. We take old properties and renovate them, rent them out or hold them until they appreciate enough to sell. Some of those properties house businesses that cash flow, like the laundromats and car wash. It’s a pretty common business model actually.”
He sounded appropriately bored.
“Except you never have,” Detective Grabowski said.
Remy lifted an eyebrow. “We never have…?”
“Sold them,” Detective Grabowski said. “You’ve bought up a lot of property, but you’ve never sold a single one.”
“Market’s still rising,” Bram said calmly. “Knowing when to sell is half the strategy.”
Another silence descended between us. No one moved, not even Maeve, who was as still and unreadable as the rest of us.
A fucking queen.
Finally, Detective Rodriguez stood. She tucked her notebook into her pocket, along with her pen, then nodded. “Thanks for your time, we really appreciate it.”
We stood too and Detective Rodriguez produced a business card. She handed it to Remy.
“Do us a favor and call if you get a line on anything?”
“Sure thing,”’ Remy said, pocketing the card. “I’ll show you out.”
They were almost to the stairs when Detective Rodriguez turned around, her gaze fixed on Maeve.
“You said your last name was Haver?”
Maeve nodded.
“Was your sister…?”
“June,” Maeve said, her voice cracking. “Yeah, June Haver was my sister.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Rodriguez said.
She sounded like she meant it, but there was something else there too, a thread of fresh suspicion.
“Thank you,” Maeve said.
Remy walked them down and the rest of us stayed rooted in place until he retuned. “What the actual fuck?”
“It was Ethan,” Maeve said. “He’s pointing the finger at you.”