Connections in Death (In Death #48)(104)

Reo turned her head, gave Eve a cool glance. “This is my job. Offer me something, Mr. Jorgenson, and I’ll talk to my boss.”

When Quentin began to speak, Reo shot a finger at him.

“He tells me. His words, not through your filter.”

“They came to me.” Jorgenson shrugged. “Had blood all over them.”

“Who?”

“Snapper and Ticker. They came to me, and they said how they got jumped by Dragons, and Fan Ho killed Fist.”

“That contradicts the statements they’ve given—independently—in their confessions.”

“I’m saying what they told me. They said how they heard Slice was making a deal with Ho, to keep things down after Dinnie. And they didn’t like it, got talking trash. They figured Slice put the Dragons on them. So they had the idea to get Fist over to Ho’s place, prove the Dragons did him. All I did was get the van and drive it.”

“Rather than report a murder to the police, you helped transport a body from the killing scene to Chinatown?”

“Bangers don’t go to cops.” He spoke defiantly. “We take care of our own.”

“Uh-huh. And didn’t it strike you as odd that neither of these men who survived an attack that killed Aimes had no injuries?”

“They had blood on them.”

“Aimes’s blood.”

He shrugged. “How’m I to know. Blood’s blood.”

“And bullshit’s bullshit. You went out for a big breakfast after disposing of the body, and both the other men had changed clothes—no blood showing. Yet you still failed to question the fact they had no injuries. Aimes’s throat was sliced ear-to-ear, and showed no other injuries.”

“I’m saying what they said, can you latch on? I figure they were working with Slice. Setting me up.”

“Because?”

“Because he knows I’m smarter, stronger, and I’m going to take over.”

“You.” Laughing, Eve straightened in her chair. “You think you’re smarter than Jones. Jones who’s been skimming off the gang’s pool for over three years? Jones, who freaking owns the building you flop in—the one you pay rent to flop in.”

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Mr. Jorgenson,” Quentin warned. “Please don’t speak.”

“Samuel Cohen. You know that name. You probably couldn’t reach him to rep you here, probably figured he was too busy trying to rep a bunch of Bangers to get back to you. The two of them? They’ve been milking you and the rest. Buying real estate for God’s sake. Sure, Jones wanted to keep it down—he didn’t want the cops getting too close to his bank accounts. He’s got a couple million socked away. And all that real estate with Cohen.

“And what does Cohen do? He comes along giving you some ideas once Jones backs off his percentage of the illegals, the protection racket, the sex workers. I bet he fed your delusions of grandeur.”

Eve rose, circled the table, leaned down. “You can take him down? Is that what Cohen told you? I’ll help you. Give me a cut when you’re in charge, and I’ll be your consigliere. Something like that? Don’t worry, he didn’t bump you back because he’s working to cut Jones a deal in this. He’s trying to cut one for himself, with the feds. Tax evasion, fraud, all kinds of goodies. And rolling on you? It’s just part of the negotiation.”

“They’re dead. They’re dead men.”

“Mr. Jorgenson—”

“Shut up, you worthless piece of shit. Shut the fuck up.”

“Would you kill them yourself if you could get to them, Bolt? Or would you order another couple of idiots to do it like you did with Pickering, Duff, Aimes.”

“They’re dead. Slice, Cohen, Snapper, Ticker. Dead.”

“Big talk, big talk from a guy who got his ass kicked by his own sister.”

“You shut the fuck up.”

“Did you know that one, Quentin? He physically assaulted his mother, and his sister gave him an ass kicking. You’re here because, while the family didn’t file charges, they kicked him hard to the curb, so he can’t tap them for money for a lawyer.”

“You don’t know dick.” Jorgenson snarled it, tried to take a swing at Eve, but the restraints stopped him.

“Temper, temper,” she said. “I had a little conversation with your sister, Bolt. I know plenty. Oh, and the staff sergeant doesn’t send her regards.”

“She’s a lying bitch, just like my lying whore of a mother.”

“I don’t think Bolt likes women much,” Eve said pleasantly to Reo. “He might be afraid of them. You couldn’t even take out the junkie you were having sex with, could you? You told them to rape the shit out of her, didn’t you, to beat her to death and leave her where you figured Slice couldn’t ignore it.”

“I’m not the one afraid. Slice is.”

He raged it out. In the zone, Eve thought again. But Jorgensen’s zone was fury.

“If he had balls, Fan Ho and the rest would be dead. But he’s got no balls.”

“It’s why you picked the neutral zone, but Slice didn’t bite. Did you plan to use her, then have her killed when you started banging her.”