Page 32 of Sting
“Guess not.”
“But he’s not mooning over his breakup with Jordie Bennett.”
“Apparently not. Can’t speak for her, though.”
Joe thought about it and came to the conclusion that they had zilch. No leads, false or otherwise, to follow up. They might just as well be in a damn black hole, a situation infuriatingly similar to the last time Shaw Kinnard was their suspect.
As though Hick was reading his mind, he asked, “What was he doing with Mickey Bolden?”
“Mickey was a link to Billy Panella and thirty million dollars, give or take a few mil.” Thoughtfully, he pulled on his lower lip. “Only a guess, but Kinnard probably approached Bolden a while back and laid some groundwork. In the hope of getting to Panella and all that dough, he established a quasi partnership with his trusted hit man.”
“He offered his services.”
“I’m only guessing,” Joe reminded him.
“It feels right, though,” Hick said. “He let Bolden know that he was available for down-and-dirty jobs, then sat back and waited for a call.”
“Which he received on Tuesday.”
“So he sewed up his business in Mexico and hightailed it here.” After a beat, Hick asked, “Do you think he knew who the hit was?”
“He probably assumed it was Josh Bennett.”
“At what point do you think he learned it was his sister instead?”
Joe rubbed his forehead with worry. “I don’t know.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, noticed that it was greasy, and realized how badly he needed a shower. Even Hick was looking less than bandbox fresh.
“Let’s take a couple of hours.” Joe picked up the folder with the gruesome photos and tucked it under his arm. “I need to touch base with my family. I think we’re supposed to go to a carnival at the kids’ school this evening.”
“How will Marsha take you missing it?”
“She’ll be pissed, but she’ll forgive me. Eventually. How’s your love life? Still in that ‘promising relationship’?”
“Yes. It’s still promising.”
“Oh yeah? When will you be taking it to the next level?”
“No time soon.”
“How come?”
“Because of all my other promising relationships.”
Joe rolled his eyes and motioned Hick toward the door, but he hung back. “One thing I failed to mention earlier. The hired party girl who talked to the authorities in Mexico?”
Joe nodded.
“She was with the three men when they left the party.”
“Explain.”
Hick told him that after the bodies of the two victims were discovered near police headquarters, the young woman was rounded up from the villa along with all the other guests. He pointed to the folder under Joe’s arm. “She cooperated in exchange for anonymity, so you won’t find her name or photo in there. But she’s the one who IDed Shaw Kinnard.
“She told the investigators that just as the party was getting into full swing, Kinnard approached Frat Boy and confided that there was a guy he needed to meet, someone from a rival cartel who wanted to switch teams. To demonstrate his sincerity, this guy was willing to tell everything he knew about the rival’s operation, but it had to be right then before the rival caught on and silenced him for good.
“Our frat boy was reluctant to leave the sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but Kinnard impressed on him that this guy could decide that the life expectancy of a traitor was short and chicken out. They had to move on it or say bye-bye to a golden opportunity. So Frat Boy grudgingly went with Kinnard, and, at Kinnard’s suggestion, took only one bodyguard so the soon-to-be-traitor wouldn’t get spooked.”
“The frat boy chose his top guard, the chief of the state police.”
