15. Michael
Chapter 15
Michael
“ I know.” Peter declares.
My head turns in his direction.
“You know? You knew all this time, and you didn’t say anything? I mean, you didn’t have to say it to Savannah, but you could have told me,” I say.
“You were helping my sister, and it seemed like neither of you wanted anyone to know. I didn’t want to pry or abuse the privilege of being your friend,” Peter explains. “That’s why I didn’t ask.”
“Until I dragged you here for a stakeout. Right?”
He nods. “Right. I’ll appreciate it if we could keep this between us, though.”
I raise a brow. “Why? Do you think Savannah is going to bring down the fury of hell if she finds out that her brother knows that her boss is her attorney? Or that he knows about the trial?”
I look out the window, staring at the jewelry store where a friend of Eric’s said he used to visit—to trade stolen items. He gave us the date and time for his next visit, which is why we are here today.
But I couldn’t drag Savannah with me—for obvious reasons, so I brought the next best option.
“Everyone knows about the trial. My dad, my mom…everyone knows. They aren’t saying anything because I’ve promised to disown them if they call Savannah.”
I clap my hands. “Okay. That is one good big brother. Your sister isn’t going to see it as a good thing if she finds out, but I’m proud of you for sticking up for her.”
Peter doesn’t look happy. Instead, he seems sad.
“I didn’t do anything. I mean, I should have done this years ago—taken her side. This is why I took a step back now because I don’t want to do something that will have her looking for another attorney,” Peter continues.
“I want you to represent my sister. I need you to prove that Savannah is innocent.”
“I want that too,” I say with all sincerity. “Which is why I asked you for help.”
“And,” I crack my knuckles, “we’ve been sitting here for the past thirty minutes. I don’t know how those cops do it, but I’m ready to get out and find some answers.”
“Just a tip,” Peter says as we get out, “act like you’re there to buy something. Don’t just go in there asking questions. Okay?”
I roll my eyes even though the smile doesn’t leave my face.
“I always forget that you were the smartest in our class. I’ll follow your lead, Peter.”
***
“Hi,” I walk up to the receptionist.
Or at least the people behind the counter at the small, seedy place that serves as a jewelry store.
“I’d like to look at your finest ring. Your most expensive and unique ring.”
The woman stares at me with scrutinizing eyes.
“Normal people come here to sell jewelry. They don’t come to buy anything.”
“Then why do— shit.” I groan when Peter steps on my words, but it’s a sign that I’m either saying too much or saying the wrong thing, so I keep quiet.
He steps forward with a smile.
“I’m sorry. My friend here got scammed out of a lot of money, and he thinks getting a fancy watch will make the people at the bank think he’s good enough for a loan.”
“I,” Peter stretches out his hand to reveal a watch I gifted him, “I would like to sell this, please. How much can I get for it?”
The woman takes a look at it, asks him to remove it, and then offers a ridiculously lower price than what I bought it for. I clamp my tongue between my teeth to keep from speaking.
“Okay. Uhm…can you make it any higher? This is the most valuable thing I have,” Peter says, looking helpless and scratching his head. “I would have given it to Eric, I heard that he comes to sell stuff here, so I decided to come myself.”
The woman’s eyes widened a fraction at the mention of Eric, confirming that our tip was right. I bring out a couple of hundred-dollar bills from my pocket and toss them on the counter.
“Is this good enough to get information from you?” I say.
She looks at it and looks back at me.
“No,” she says flatly.
I add another bill. And another. And another. It gets to five hundred dollars, and then she nods.
“You want to know about Eric. This tall—” She gestures and goes on about his looks. “Yeah, he comes here.”
“Does he sell you anything out of the ordinary? Goods that are stolen?”
She clams up, and I fork out some more hundred-dollar bills to get her talking again.
“Well, we don’t take stolen items. But sometimes it is difficult to tell what items are stolen. He brings us a lot of merchandise so we are not going to turn items down if we are not sure, we have a business to run,” she admits.
I stroke my chin.
“So there is no way to tell if he stole the items or bought them from someone, is that what I understand?” I try to clarify.
She smiles and her teeth are covered with a diamond and gold grill. “What do YOU think?”
Peter recoils, and I almost burst out in laughter. I might be quick to anger, but the times when Peter cannot hide what he thinks are hilarious to me.
“Okay. So, he stole them. Did he come with anyone? At all? Or do you know if he had a partner? Anyone he might have had a falling out with?”
She shrugs. “I try to stay out of everyone else’s business if it doesn’t involve me. I stay out of trouble. We don’t want any trouble, no cops?”
Bingo.
I lean forward until we are eye-to-eye.
“Do you want the cops to come here with a warrant? Go through the whole shop and find things that you don’t want found.”
She goes pale immediately, contrasting with her diamond and gold grill.
“Are you the cops?”
I shake my head. “Luckily for you, we aren’t. But we can get the cops, so you’d better tell us what you know.”
I don’t tell her that telling us will not change anything.
“Yes,” she says, a bit of a tremble in her voice. “Yeah. He did. I heard him argue with a man on the phone a couple of times while he was here.”
They talked about money, some shipment, and then,” she scratches her head, “I think a wedding. He said that he couldn’t send the friend money for his wedding because he told him not to get married.”
My mind finds the information interesting, and I try to remember where I’ve heard something that might place the piece to the puzzle. Then it hits me.
Savannah mentioned that Brandon asked her to give him the engagement ring back because he lost his job and needed the money to pay his rent.
I think about how all this might fit together.
Did he ask Eric for money for the wedding? Did Brandon—owe him money, and maybe Eric killed him for it?
Taking out my phone, I scroll until I get to a picture of Brandon. Then I show it to her.
“This. Have you seen this man come in? Maybe with Eric? I need you to think.”
She nods. “Yes. It was the day Eric spoke about the wedding. The man he spoke to came in an hour later looking for Eric, but Eric had already left.”
I see.
“He looked pretty pissed. Did he kill someone?” She asks.
“Who?” Peter asks.
She points to my phone. “That man?”
“No, he didn’t. Eric did,” I cut in, despite the cautionary look from Peter. “We think Eric killed Brandon, and we are looking for him. So, if you know of his whereabouts, I’d advise that you tell us now, so you don’t end up as an accomplice to murder.”
She doesn’t say anything until we go to leave.
“One more thing,” she says.
I turn around sharply. “What?”
“I don’t know if this will help, but the last time he was here, he asked if I had seen a knife. Looked angry and paranoid when I said no.”
Knife.
It rings all the bells in my head.
“Had you seen the knife he was talking about before?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t allow my customers to bring in weapons, and if they do, they have to keep them where I don’t see them. Or,” she gestures with a slicing motion across her neck, “it’s off with their heads.”
I grin. “A woman who runs a tight ship. I love it.”
***
“ You don’t know if Eric killed him. They had a falling out, that’s all,” Peter says when we get into the car.
I shake my head.
“No, we don’t know that yet.”
“Why did you tell her that, then?”
I shrug. “Because it was better to tell her and scare the crap out of her then she’ll go and tell him.”
“And?” He turns to me. “What’s the point then, to set a fire under his ass?”
I grin and snap my fingers. “Bingo. You get it. He’s going to run. And when he runs, we will find him. Do you know what happens when you light a fire under a turtle?”
Peter sighs.
“I get the point. You can stop with the metaphors. So, what are we going to do now? Sit here until he comes out, or do we go to the address that she gave us?” Peter asks.
“I have a better idea,” I say.
“Okay, what is it?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” I say pleased with myself.
We end up at the police headquarters, straight for the office of a lieutenant.
“I didn’t think the location was a police station,” Peter grumbles as we walk down the corridor. “You need to warn me before you bring me to a place of no return.”
I chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Peter. You’re not just an attorney. You’re a top attorney; a partner at my firm. If anyone is looking to get to you, they’ll have to go through me.”
He gives me a proud smile.
“This is why Savannah asked you to represent her,” he says.
“Why?” I look at him with raised brows.
Peter shrugs. “Nothing. I’m just saying I see it. You must have shown her this side of you. The protective side of Michael Stone.”
I stop in front of the office, turning to Peter. “The protective side?”
“Yup. There are three sides to you. The side that is kind and caring that everyone knows about. There’s the part of you that is hard, cold, and, dare I say…unfeeling. And there’s this,” he points at me.
I wonder how many sides Savannah has seen.
I knock twice and open the door.
I address the lieutenant, and we sit down when she offers us seats.
“Mr. Stone. What can I do for you this evening?”
I give her my winning smile. The same smile I give my clients in positions of power to let them know that I’m about to ask for a favor because they owe me.
“You know Elaine Rogers,” I ask.
“The hard-knock detective .”
I raise a brow. “Hard-knock?”
She nods. “Yes. That is what everyone calls her. She’s all business, striving to get to the top.”
“Elaine Rogers’s colleagues have all attained higher positions than her. But she cracked a case two years ago that shot her to the detective post and she’s been looking for another win ever since.”
Peter makes a sound beside me and I nod slowly.
“I see. Anyway, she is the lead detective on a case involving someone who works at my firm.”
“I’ve heard,” she says.
“I need some information. Nothing off limits, but I don’t want to be left in the dark.”
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“The murder weapon. How did they find it? Where? Why did it take them so long to get a warrant and why did the judge authorize it?”
She sighs.
“We had a tip. An anonymous caller sent us a picture of the knife in Miss Richmond’s house. They said they knew her personally, and they were a bit hesitant but thought justice should prevail.”
“Bullshit,” Peter spits angrily.
“Sorry?” She glances at him in annoyance.
“It’s fine,” I place a hand on the table. “This is her brother. We both know she didn’t do it. Do you have a picture of the knife?” I ask.
“No, but I can have someone send it over,” she says.
I nod. “Thanks. That’ll be very helpful.”
We sit there for another twenty minutes before the picture comes in. I hand my phone to Peter.
“Do you think this is the knife he was looking for?” Peter asks.
“I don’t know. But let’s hope it is. In the meantime, we have to find out who made it and who sold it. Hopefully, it’s rare enough that we get an answer.”
“Who was looking for a knife?” The lieutenant asks.
Standing up, I tap Peter’s shoulder to do the same.
“Thank you for your time. We’ll be leaving now.”
She smiles. “I know, I know. You don’t want to share information.”
The corner of my mouth lifts slightly.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be in touch.”
Peter nods briefly as we walk out of the office, although I see the anger in his fists and his tightened jaw.
“I’ll make sure your sister is vindicated,” I put a hand on his shoulder when we get outside. “I promise you.”
His face is hardened when he turns to me. “I know. I know. I’m just…pissed. All her life, Savannah has had to lobby for my father’s approval. I did the best I could, trying to make him see that she was worth as much as a son to him, but he didn’t.”
“And he made that clear. But she did not stop. It did not deter her from going on and becoming a paralegal. I still blame myself that she didn’t go to law school because I know it was my fault—indirectly.”
“Then this,” his muscles tighten under his shoulder blades. “This. Any help you need, Michael, please ask. I’ll drop everything to assist you, and help my sister clear her name.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“But keep it a secret from Savannah.”
“I know,” I say firmly.
It feels weird, given the relationship I now have with Savannah, but I know some things are meant to remain secret, even though I’d love nothing more than to clear the misunderstanding between the two of them.