Chapter 6 #2
Out came the Macallan 30, which Leo poured into one Baccarat crystal tumbler without offering a second. “Maybe I was going to be a little stern with him. Set him straight. That kind of thing.” He sipped the whiskey with a shrug. “But he didn’t show.”
Christ, Leo was so arrogant, he didn’t even smell what he was shoveling. “One of our business associates doesn’t show up for a deal, and you don’t think to say anything about it?”
“Come on, Si,” Leo said, the nickname making Simon want to plant his fist directly in Leo’s mouth. “Don’t be so serious.”
“The man was stabbed to death at the location of the meet,” Simon pointed out. “He obviously showed up.”
Leo was, not shockingly, unfazed when confronted with the gaping hole in his story.
“Okay. Not to speak ill of the dead, but he might have—and I just mean maybe, here—kind of deserved it. Plus, given the guy’s line of work, it was probably bound to happen eventually, anyway.
Who knows how many other people he was ripping off.
You know what, I’m just gonna say it. Whoever popped him probably did the world a favor. ”
Simon took on the herculean task of gathering his patience. But he hadn’t gotten this far by losing control, no matter how much Leo had earned it, and he had to know what he was dealing with so he could clean it up. “The truth, Leo. Were you with Brinkman at the exchange?”
Leo made a pssh sound and a face to match, but then recanted. “Okay, so I might have been there for, like, a minute, and kind of lost my temper with him.”
“So, you lied to me.”
“No. Well, I mean, technically, yes, but I only lied because I knew you’d get all worked up over it, and it’s not a big deal. I just, you know. Took care of the problem. That’s all.”
Christ. “We have processes for that. Ones that ensure safety from the authorities. Leo, what if you get caught?”
“Those ‘processes’ take too long.” Leo said the word mockingly, pouting like a toddler. “Anyway, I’m not going to get caught. It’s, like, the whole reason I have Phil. I’m totally covered.”
Philip Constantine III, Esquire, was the eight hundred-dollar-an-hour defense attorney they kept on retainer to get them (read: Leo) out of various legal scrapes.
Phil had the perfect trifecta of an impeccable record, moderately questionable ethics, and a reputation for ruthlessness.
Simon suspected that Phil knew exactly how arrogant Leo was, as well as his stone-cold guilt of everything he’d defended Leo against. Thankfully, Phil didn’t seem to care, just as long as he could find a technicality to manipulate or a judge to bribe.
But Phil was a lawyer, not a fucking magician, and even he had limits.
“What about the street cameras?” Simon asked.
Leo exhaled as if he were indulging a child. “I chose that warehouse for the exchange because there aren’t many cameras, remember? Just the one on the back of the place, and I didn’t go in or out that way.”
Simon chose all of their drop locations, of course. He’d never give Leo that kind of control. But Leo was all too willing to claim the good ideas and letting him take the credit allowed Simon to operate in the shadows.
Shadows that wouldn’t exist if Leo went down for something stupid. “Please tell me there won’t be any fingerprints or DNA.”
“What? No.” Leo huffed a don’t-be-ridiculous laugh. “Seriously, Si. You should be happy about this.”
“And you got rid of the weapon? Threw it in the river, or a fire pit, or a deep hole in the middle of nowhere?”
“God.” Leo rolled his eyes, throwing back the last of his drink in one gulp.
“This conversation is officially boring me. Seriously, Simon. Everything is fine, okay? Brinkman isn’t going to be a problem anymore—you’re welcome—and now, the rest of the mid-level dealers know what happens when you cross Leo Navarro. See? It’s a win-win.”
Simon paused. Leo had been far too impulsive, which meant Simon would have to keep digging in order to make sure all the loose ends were tied up. But he also had to play Leo carefully. Pushing too hard would only make Leo push back. He had to give Leo the illusion of control.
“Alright. I’ll make arrangements for his territory to be covered,” Simon said, turning to head back to his office and have a word with Runner.
But a knock on the door stopped him halfway across the floor. “Mr. Navarro, sir,” came the low, stern voice of their head of security. “We have a situation.”
“Come,” Leo said, his dark brows lifted as the man lumbered into the room.
“There are two detectives from Intelligence at the gate,” the head of security, Eddie, said. “Maxwell and Hale. They’re asking for a word with you.”
“Did they say what it’s regarding?” Simon asked, his heart thumping with unease.
Eddie shook his granite slab of a chin. “Negative.”
Simon’s thoughts clicked into order. If the police had a warrant, they’d have led with it. No, this was a fishing expedition. The question was, for what?
“Fucking cops. They’re a pain in my dick. Tell them I’m not here,” Leo said dismissively, waving a hand. “If they really want to talk to someone, they can call Phil.”
“No.” Simon softened the word with a placating smile that tasted like a shit sandwich.
“Dodging them might make them suspicious. If you talk to them, you can find out what they’re after and what they know.
Like you said, there’s nothing to worry about with our current”—he cut his eyes to Eddie—“situation. You can still stonewall them without sending them away. After all, you’re smarter than they are. ”
Thankfully, the pandering did the trick. “Fine.” Leo looked at Eddie. “Bring them into the drawing room. Let’s get this shit over with.”
Simon couldn’t let Leo meet with the police unsupervised—God only knew what would come out of his mouth.
But he knew better than to attract any attention, so he followed Leo into the ornately decorated drawing room, carefully selecting a wingback chair he could sink into and be easily overlooked.
A minute later, Simon watched Detectives Maxwell and Hale follow Eddie into the room.
Leo held court by the oversized marble fireplace, his politician-pleasant smile shifting into something slightly more lascivious as he also took in both detectives.
Specifically, the blonde with wide green eyes and a pretty little Cupid’s bow of a mouth, forming a perfect smile. “Wow,” she gushed, spinning her gaze over the hand-carved plaster molding and custom silk draperies. “Beautiful house.”
Leo ate it up with a spoon. “So kind of you to say, Miss…?”
“Detective,” she said with a bright smile. “Hale, and my partner, Detective Maxwell. We’re with the Intelligence Unit.”
“What a pleasure,” Leo said, moving to shake her hand but ignoring her big, brooding partner, which didn’t seem to put the guy out. “Leo Navarro,” Leo said silkily.
Detective Hale turned toward Simon, her blond brows lifted in expectation, until Leo had no choice but to add, “My brother, Simon. He works for me. Anyway, how can I help you today, officers?”
“It’s detective,” Detective Maxwell said, his voice the sort of quiet and serious that said he knew seven different ways to defend himself to the death with a dime-store pen. “Both of us.”
Leo chuckled, unbothered. “Well, well. Okay, big guy. Detectives.” He looked at Detective Hale, then tipped his head at her partner with a wink. “Is he always so serious?”
Detective Hale winked back. “Deadly.”
Simon cleared his throat just loudly enough for Leo to notice. “Right, of course. So, what brings you to my door?”
“We’re conducting an investigation, and we’re hoping you can help,” Detective Hale said, sending Simon into full alert.
Before he could help it, he asked, “An investigation into what?”
“You’ll have to forgive my brother.” Leo tutted in admonishment. “Type A. Very uptight. It often translates to a lack of manners.”
“Not at all,” Detective Hale said. “Do you know a man by the name of Sal Brinkman?” she asked, and at least Leo had the wherewithal to keep a straight face.
“We’ve met a time or two. We share some social circles, but nothing regular,” Leo said, and Simon found himself grateful they’d crafted a few interactions to explain any connections or crossed paths. “He’s in banking, right? Some sort of investments?”
“Real estate,” Detective Hale said smoothly. “Have you ever done business with him?”
“Oh, Detective Hale. I do a lot of business,” Leo non-answered, his tone practically patting her on the head. “I don’t recall any of it being with Sal, though. Why, is he in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that,” Detective Maxwell said, his voice as flat as his stare, “since we found his body in a North Point warehouse two days ago.”
It took all of Simon’s carefully forged control not to react, which had surely been the point of dropping the news like a pipe bomb. God damn it, the police must have something on Leo if they were here a mere two days after the murder, disclosing information and sniffing around for more.
“What?” Leo’s overdone surprise made an encore. “That’s terrible. What happened?”
“That’s actually where we were hoping you could help us out,” Detective Hale said.
The silence that followed made it so Leo had no choice but to respond, and Simon had to hand it to her. She was good.
Leo kept his surprise in place like the liar he was. “Me? I don’t see how. Not that I don’t want to help, of course. But I didn’t even know him that well.”
Detective Hale tilted her head, inquisitive. “So, you and Mr. Brinkman didn’t do any business together?”
Leo lifted his hands, no answer in sight, and at least he wasn’t giving her much to work with. “I own a fair amount of real estate, both commercial and private. I’d have to have my people look into it, but if we did have any common projects or partners, like I said, I don’t recall.”
“Were you ever aware of him participating in any illegal activity?” Detective Maxwell asked, and Leo looked mildly affronted.
“Of course not. I’d have contacted the police.”
Detective Hale softened the blow. “And you don’t have any idea what Mr. Brinkman might have been doing in North Point two nights ago? Anything you can think of, even if it’s a small detail, might really help us out.”
Leo bought it, of course. His smile returned, all charm and teeth. “Look, I really don’t know what to tell you. I have no idea what Sal was involved in. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“We understand. Thank you so much for your time,” Detective Hale said. “If you think of anything—”
“I won’t hesitate to call,” Leo finished, gesturing to the door. “Eddie will be just outside, here. He’ll show you out.”
The detectives moved toward the exit, but Detective Hale stopped three steps shy of the threshold before turning back with a snap of her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. One last thing before we get out of your hair. Where were you two nights ago, between ten thirty and midnight?”
The question sucker punched Leo exactly as it was meant to, a muscle twitching in his perfect GQ jaw for a beat before he reclaimed his smile, and fuck. Fuck, this meeting had been a mistake.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said, his expression making it very clear he was not. “You don’t think I actually had anything to do with…whatever happened to Sal, do you?”
Detective Hale’s sunny disposition slipped a bit, showing the slightest hint of sharp edges beneath. “It’s a standard question. We have to ask. You don’t mind, do you?”
She hit the last two words with just enough emphasis to echo Leo’s question back at him, and that bitch.
She’d played him, letting him think he had the upper hand before blindsiding him with the question he’d have to lie through his teeth to get around.
Leo was too fucking narcissistic to see it—he was probably still stuck on the notion that he’d managed to dazzle her. But Simon had had enough.
“Excuse me,” he said, as meekly as he could stomach. “Is my brother in some sort of trouble?”
“This conversation is entirely voluntary,” Detective Hale said, her smile easy, once again, “and I know the question can feel a little off-putting, but it’s really just part of our protocol. Helps us dot the Is and cross the Ts, you know?”
Simon opened his mouth to say he was sorry they couldn’t help but nothing more. But Leo was Leo, and he couldn’t stand not being the center of attention—even when the attention was the kind that would land his arrogant ass in jail.
“You’re so dramatic, Simon. Of course, I’m not in trouble.” He tsked. “Two nights ago, I was at my restaurant, La Vielle Maison, until about nine, and then I came here, to the house, for the night.”
“Did anyone see you?” Detective Maxwell asked, and Simon said the only thing he could to gain enough control to end the conversation without suspicion.
“I did. I was up until eleven thirty, reading. Leo came home at nine-fifteen. I heard him set the house alarm system.”
“Ah. There we are, officers.” Leo gestured to Simon, problem solved.
“Detectives. Both of us,” Detective Maxwell bit out again, but—in a bold move, considering the man’s sheer size—Leo ignored him.
“Speaking of the restaurant, I need to head over there to prepare for a few VIPs this evening. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course. Thanks for your assistance. You’ve been very helpful,” Detective Hale said, her smile offsetting her partner’s hard stare as they both disappeared through the door.
“See?” Leo said a few beats later, when it was clear the detectives were gone. “I told you it would be fine.”
Simon exhaled, slowly counting. “The police came to ask your whereabouts in a murder investigation for a crime you committed, Leo. This is not fine.”
“They asked, and I answered,” Leo said, waving him off. “They don’t have anything, because if they did, they’d have come with a warrant, and even then, they still wouldn’t have anything, except maybe a defamation case. If they pursue this, Phil is going to have the RPD for fucking breakfast.”
Simon weighed the variables in his mind. The police had been trying to take them down for years, and Brinkman’s body had been found smack in the middle of Navarro territory. The part about the warrant was also true—they’d clearly just been kicking at rocks to see what scurried out.
The trouble was, this wasn’t a carefully orchestrated deal Simon had set up. It was pure Leo, and Simon couldn’t trust him not to have left behind evidence that would point directly to them.
For a fraction of a second, Simon was tempted—so fucking tempted—to let Leo pay the debt his ego had racked up. Christ, it would serve the smug bastard right. But as much as he hated it, Simon needed Leo free and clear so he could remain under the radar.
Which meant he’d have to clean up whatever mess Leo had made, no matter how big. Or how bloody.
And that meant he was going to have to do some homework on this investigation.