Black Widow
Page 13
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Maybe it was wrong, but I laughed—loudly—at his obvious confusion. It was the first time in ages that I could remember anyone getting the better of him. I’d always thought that Finn’s incessant flirting would get him into trouble, and it looked like today was finally that day.
Finn roused himself out of his stupor and unfolded the paper, scanning the document, his green eyes bulging wider and wider with every word he read.
“Problems?” I asked in a snide tone.
“I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m being sued!” he sputtered, whipping the paper back and forth in the air as if it were a flag in the middle of a tornado.
“For what?”
Finn stopped sputtering long enough to read through the document a little more carefully. “Mismanagement of funds at my bank.”
I frowned. Of all the things that Finn could get sued for, that one should have been pretty far down on the list. He might have no qualms about tap-dancing around the IRS and their tax rules and regulations, but he did a great job investing, protecting, and growing money for his clients.
Finn’s face grew darker and angrier the longer he scanned the paper. “Oh, it’s from this schmuck. I should have guessed. He got all pissy with me last quarter because I only got him a ten percent return on his investment, when he wanted twelve. Doesn’t he know how craptastic the market is right now? Mismanagement of funds, my ass. I’ve made this idiot a fortune this year alone. A fortune!”
Finn continued to rant and rave, but I tuned him out and stared at Madeline. She was still talking to Emery, although she had seen the commotion surrounding Finn, since everyone in the restaurant was now looking at him like he was a few bananas short of a fruit salad.
Roslyn and her greedy liquor distributor. Owen and his flip-flopping businessman. Finn and his impending lawsuit. Three seemingly separate things that had happened to my friends in twenty-four hours. A cold ball of worry formed in the pit of my stomach.
I dragged my gaze away from Madeline. I started to ask Finn another question, but I didn’t get the chance. The door to the restaurant slammed open, jangling the bell so hard that it almost flew off the top of the wooden frame, and Eva Grayson stormed inside, a backpack and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in her fists and angry tears in her blue eyes.
“Owen!” she yelled. “Finally!”
Owen looked up from his phone. “Eva? What’s wrong?”
She marched over to her big brother and thrust the piece of paper at him, the sharp, hurried motions making her long black ponytail slap against her shoulders. “I’ve been suspended from school.”
“What? Why?” Owen took the paper from her and snapped it open.
“For cheating,” Eva spat out. “Somebody told the dean that I was selling answers to a chemistry test. I got called over to the administrative office this morning. The chem professor and the campus police were there too, and they all totally blindsided me. I’d never seen that stupid test before, and I certainly didn’t sell the answers to it. I don’t even know the answers to it. But no matter what I said, or how much I denied it, they all just kept staring at me and saying that it really would be better if I admitted everything. I got so fed up that I told them all to go screw themselves. They said that they had to investigate the situation, and that I was suspended until they could figure things out.”
Eva clamped her lips together, but she couldn’t keep the tears from trickling down her flushed cheeks. Owen put his arm around her shoulder, murmuring into her ear as he tried to comfort her.
Eva’s distress was enough to get Finn to put aside his own problems. He looked at her and Owen, then glanced over at Madeline, before finally turning back to me.
“Still think I’m being paranoid?” I sniped.
He never got the chance to answer me.
The front door opened yet again, and a giant with broad shoulders and a substantial potbelly waddled inside. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped into a buzz cut that he had somehow spiked up even more with hair gel, while his cheeks had the ruddy look of someone who either drank a lot or was a cheeseburger away from having a heart attack. But what really caught my attention was the gold badge clipped to the pocket of his navy suit jacket, right over his heart.
A cop—one who was pretty high up on the food chain, judging from his expensive attire and the cocky way he walked.
And he wasn’t alone.
Two uniformed officers, also giants, entered the restaurant behind him, along with a short woman wearing a pale pink pantsuit and holding an official-looking clipboard.
The cop marched over and stood in front of the cash register. Behind him, I could see Madeline staring at me and smiling.
That cold worry shot out through the rest of my body, freezing me from the inside out. This was it, this was the beginning, this was the start of Madeline’s plan for me, whatever it was.
The cop gave me a hard, flat stare, his brown eyes as icy as my heart felt right now.
“You Gin Blanco?” he barked out, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“The one and only,” I drawled back.
“I’m Captain Lou Dobson with the Ashland Police Department,” he said, his gravelly voice booming through the restaurant. “And you’re wanted for murder.”
5
The last, loud echoes of Dobson’s voice faded away, and an eerie, absolute quiet descended over the Pork Pit.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. The customers froze, their barbecue sandwiches, fries, and half-eaten onion rings clutched in their hands, while Catalina and the rest of the waitstaff hovered next to them, holding stacks of napkins and carrying pitchers of water, lemonade, and sweet iced tea. Owen hugged Eva a little closer, while Finn swiveled around on his stool to face Dobson. Silvio stopped texting, instead discreetly angling his phone and taking photos of the three cops and the woman standing with them. Sophia threw down the dish towel she’d been using to wipe off the counter and crossed her arms over her muscled chest.
But for the most part, everyone’s wide eyes were focused on me, as they wondered how I would react to Dobson’s accusation.
Well, really, it wasn’t an accusation so much as it was the cold, hard truth. I had killed more than my share of folks over the years for a variety of reasons—money, revenge, survival. The police captain would have to be a lot more specific about whom he thought I’d murdered.
Finn roused himself out of his stupor and unfolded the paper, scanning the document, his green eyes bulging wider and wider with every word he read.
“Problems?” I asked in a snide tone.
“I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m being sued!” he sputtered, whipping the paper back and forth in the air as if it were a flag in the middle of a tornado.
“For what?”
Finn stopped sputtering long enough to read through the document a little more carefully. “Mismanagement of funds at my bank.”
I frowned. Of all the things that Finn could get sued for, that one should have been pretty far down on the list. He might have no qualms about tap-dancing around the IRS and their tax rules and regulations, but he did a great job investing, protecting, and growing money for his clients.
Finn’s face grew darker and angrier the longer he scanned the paper. “Oh, it’s from this schmuck. I should have guessed. He got all pissy with me last quarter because I only got him a ten percent return on his investment, when he wanted twelve. Doesn’t he know how craptastic the market is right now? Mismanagement of funds, my ass. I’ve made this idiot a fortune this year alone. A fortune!”
Finn continued to rant and rave, but I tuned him out and stared at Madeline. She was still talking to Emery, although she had seen the commotion surrounding Finn, since everyone in the restaurant was now looking at him like he was a few bananas short of a fruit salad.
Roslyn and her greedy liquor distributor. Owen and his flip-flopping businessman. Finn and his impending lawsuit. Three seemingly separate things that had happened to my friends in twenty-four hours. A cold ball of worry formed in the pit of my stomach.
I dragged my gaze away from Madeline. I started to ask Finn another question, but I didn’t get the chance. The door to the restaurant slammed open, jangling the bell so hard that it almost flew off the top of the wooden frame, and Eva Grayson stormed inside, a backpack and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in her fists and angry tears in her blue eyes.
“Owen!” she yelled. “Finally!”
Owen looked up from his phone. “Eva? What’s wrong?”
She marched over to her big brother and thrust the piece of paper at him, the sharp, hurried motions making her long black ponytail slap against her shoulders. “I’ve been suspended from school.”
“What? Why?” Owen took the paper from her and snapped it open.
“For cheating,” Eva spat out. “Somebody told the dean that I was selling answers to a chemistry test. I got called over to the administrative office this morning. The chem professor and the campus police were there too, and they all totally blindsided me. I’d never seen that stupid test before, and I certainly didn’t sell the answers to it. I don’t even know the answers to it. But no matter what I said, or how much I denied it, they all just kept staring at me and saying that it really would be better if I admitted everything. I got so fed up that I told them all to go screw themselves. They said that they had to investigate the situation, and that I was suspended until they could figure things out.”
Eva clamped her lips together, but she couldn’t keep the tears from trickling down her flushed cheeks. Owen put his arm around her shoulder, murmuring into her ear as he tried to comfort her.
Eva’s distress was enough to get Finn to put aside his own problems. He looked at her and Owen, then glanced over at Madeline, before finally turning back to me.
“Still think I’m being paranoid?” I sniped.
He never got the chance to answer me.
The front door opened yet again, and a giant with broad shoulders and a substantial potbelly waddled inside. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped into a buzz cut that he had somehow spiked up even more with hair gel, while his cheeks had the ruddy look of someone who either drank a lot or was a cheeseburger away from having a heart attack. But what really caught my attention was the gold badge clipped to the pocket of his navy suit jacket, right over his heart.
A cop—one who was pretty high up on the food chain, judging from his expensive attire and the cocky way he walked.
And he wasn’t alone.
Two uniformed officers, also giants, entered the restaurant behind him, along with a short woman wearing a pale pink pantsuit and holding an official-looking clipboard.
The cop marched over and stood in front of the cash register. Behind him, I could see Madeline staring at me and smiling.
That cold worry shot out through the rest of my body, freezing me from the inside out. This was it, this was the beginning, this was the start of Madeline’s plan for me, whatever it was.
The cop gave me a hard, flat stare, his brown eyes as icy as my heart felt right now.
“You Gin Blanco?” he barked out, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“The one and only,” I drawled back.
“I’m Captain Lou Dobson with the Ashland Police Department,” he said, his gravelly voice booming through the restaurant. “And you’re wanted for murder.”
5
The last, loud echoes of Dobson’s voice faded away, and an eerie, absolute quiet descended over the Pork Pit.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. The customers froze, their barbecue sandwiches, fries, and half-eaten onion rings clutched in their hands, while Catalina and the rest of the waitstaff hovered next to them, holding stacks of napkins and carrying pitchers of water, lemonade, and sweet iced tea. Owen hugged Eva a little closer, while Finn swiveled around on his stool to face Dobson. Silvio stopped texting, instead discreetly angling his phone and taking photos of the three cops and the woman standing with them. Sophia threw down the dish towel she’d been using to wipe off the counter and crossed her arms over her muscled chest.
But for the most part, everyone’s wide eyes were focused on me, as they wondered how I would react to Dobson’s accusation.
Well, really, it wasn’t an accusation so much as it was the cold, hard truth. I had killed more than my share of folks over the years for a variety of reasons—money, revenge, survival. The police captain would have to be a lot more specific about whom he thought I’d murdered.
