A deep voice behind us snaps, “Stay where you are. Don’t move!”
Security has arrived. “Is he going to shoot us, Jonathan?” I ask Walton with my eyes locked firmly on his. “If he does, you’ll hab to wait for the FBI to show you what we’b brought.”
Walton’s cocky smile falters at the mention of the FBI. His eyes shoot past us to his security guy. “Let’s hear them out for a minute or two.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Walton? These people are trespassing. I can have them removed.”
I ease the corner of a sheaf of papers out of my shirt pocket and cock an eyebrow at Walton. “Interesting stuff, Jonathan. Sure you don’t want to hab a look-see?”
A big hand grabs my biceps and jerks me back a step. “I told you not to move!”
Penelope reacts before I can. “Get your hands off him!” she snarls while ripping Mr. Security Guard’s hand off my arm.
Walton holds his hands up. “Stand down, Jones. You can turn them over to the cops after I hear what they have to say.”
“If anyone is about to get handed over to the police, my money is on it being you,” Penelope snaps.
“You sure you want Jones here to listen to this kind of talk?” I ask Walton. “You might want to get Oliver and Caitlyn in here instead. Jones’s ass isn’t on the line. Theirs are.”
“Along with yours,” Penelope adds sweetly, lest Walton feel left out.
When Walton hesitates, I turn on Jones, whose eyes widen when he takes in my battered face. He’s a big boy, though not Joe and his goombahs big. Not as tough, either, I’d wager. I lean in just a bit and say, “Miss Brooks is right. If anyone’s getting frog-marched out of here today in cuffs, it’s probably gonna be your boss. I suggest you go back whereber you came from and keep your head down.”
Walton goes pale at the mention of handcuffs.
“That’s right,” Penelope says with anger bleeding into her voice. “It hasn’t hit the news yet, but Tony helped rescue his daughter last night.” As Walton’s eyes widen in surprise, Penelope’s voice turns glacial. “Your Luciano family friends kidnapped a couple of kids and murdered one of them to put pressure on Tony to fix the case against R & B Ramp Services, Mr. Walton… and I’m betting you knew it. Expect a visit from the FBI sometime today.”
I can tell Walton is wondering how to play this as his eyes flit about the room and his tapping foot goes into overdrive. There’s always someone else to blame, some flunky to take the fall.
Not this time, asshole.
“Better call Caitlyn and Oliver,” Penelope reminds him.
Walton nods at Jones. “Go ask Miss Tyson and Mr. Franklin to join us, then wait in your office until I call.”
Jones shoots a final glance my way before he turns to go. He looks unnerved, as he should be, working for an asshole like Walton. Who knows what mischief Jones has been up to at this dick’s behest?
I pull a copy of Sapphire Larkin’s deposition out of my pocket and toss the papers on Walton’s desk after Jones leaves. Select screenshots from Megan’s social media account are attached. “Interesting interbiew, Jonathan. Give it a read. Then we’ll talk.”
Oliver Franklin and Caitlyn Tyson file in a moment later. Penelope hands both their very own copies of Sapphire’s deposition. Then we step back, rest our butts against a side table, and let them read. Franklin is as white as a grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan when he finishes. He sits and fidgets while the others continue reading. Tyson finishes last, slams the papers down on Walton’s desk, and turns a look of hatred on me. Maybe she’s still miffed about my showing up to dash their hopes of setting Billy and Rick up a couple of months back? It’s the only time we’ve met, after all. The loathing in her fiery eyes deepens when her gaze shifts to Walton.
“Is this true?”
“That’s not all,” Penelope pipes up before passing along the news that Walton was in cahoots with the Luciano crime family. “Were you two in on that, too?” she asks Tyson and Franklin.
After Tyson delivers a blistering twenty-second tirade at Walton, I step into the void. “We’ll leab you folks to sort this out among yourselves.”
“And the FBI,” Penelope adds.
“Yes, them, too,” I agree before I walk to the door and look back. “You know how to reach us.”
“I think we can safely say that Rick and Billy are in the clear now,” I mutter to Penelope as the Willis Tower elevator whisks us back to ground level. “Those shits are going to chew each other up trying to save their sorry asses.”
She nods and says, “It seems so much longer ago than six or seven weeks since Billy first walked into our office with this mess.”
And only five since the worst of this bloody nightmare started the first time Ed Stankowski was shot. Things got steadily worse from that point on.
Penelope helps me back into the car and shakes her head.
“I hope that made you feel better,” she says.
“Maybe a little,” I reply. “I’m just so furious at that bastard for putting Brittany at risk!”
“I get it,” she says, then adds with a hint of a grin. “And you’re stoned out of your mind.”
She’s got that right.
“You should be home resting with her,” Penelope says firmly.
She’s right.
Chapter Thirty-Two
We’re well into our open house at Forty-Seven Liberty Street the day after Christmas when Penelope and her roommate, Becky Seguin, arrive.
“Hi, handsome!” Becky says while she pinches my cheek, pats it affectionately, and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. We’ve always gotten along but have ramped it up a notch since I inadvertently walked in on her and Penelope sharing an intimate moment at the office a few weeks ago. It had happened on the occasion of the grand opening and christening of the new Executive Offices and
