A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(66)

Otis marched up to them with four other men, an entourage of goons. Two of them had shotguns in their hands. The other two were more worrisome since they held no visible weapon. Abby guessed that they had automatic weapons on their bodies within easy reach.

“You again?” Otis said, his warm demeanor from the day before gone. “Better turn your car around and leave, Officer. This isn’t your jurisdiction.”

Abby blinked, acting confused. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to come.”

Otis squinted at her. “Why? So you can arrest and hold more of my people? Harass us, and invade our privacy?”

Abby frowned. “But this morning I got a call from the NYPD chief. He said we had to release Karl Adkins as soon as possible. Apparently he got a phone call from some very angry people in Suffolk County. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

She saw the hostility and confusion fade from Otis’s face. His lips quirked in a tiny smile. He was enjoying the narrative Abby was feeding him. The day before he’d made some phone calls, and lo and behold, the NYPD chief had hastened to free his nephew.

Power-hungry people always desired constant evidence of their own power. Cult leaders even more than most.

“I don’t see Karl here,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t get any confirmation that he was released.”

“I’m sorry; he’s still in custody,” Abby said apologetically. “Our witness identified him in the lineup. We asked him for his alibi, but he won’t answer any of our questions. Detective Carver won’t release him until the alibi is verified. So I need the people who saw him last Friday to come with me to the station and give me a statement.”

“No one is going anywhere with you,” Otis said, the smile gone.

“It’ll just be for a few hours.”

“That’s what you said yesterday about Karl.”

“Karl wouldn’t answer our questions,” Abby said.

“He doesn’t need to answer your questions. He has the right to remain silent.”

“But . . . he was identified in the lineup. My witness is almost certain.” Her witness, Eden, was 100 percent certain, but she wanted to give Otis an opening.

“Well, your witness is wrong. It’s their word against our word.”

“You’re right,” Abby admitted. “If we had Karl’s alibi, it would be my witness’s word against his. But Karl won’t talk to us, and neither will anyone here. How can I release him if I don’t have their statements?”

Otis paused, and she could see him thinking it through. “I can let you talk to people here. But I won’t have you taking them anywhere.”

Abby feigned distress. “For the statement to hold up, I need them to give it at the station, where we can record it.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

Abby paused, opening her mouth as if to say something, then shutting it again and gritting her teeth. The choreography of frustration. She debated with herself if she should throw her hands in the air but decided it was too much and simply exhaled loudly instead. She waited a few more seconds, then said, “Can we at least have a quiet room where Detective Wong and I can talk to people privately?”

Otis shrugged. “Sure. You can talk in my study. But I won’t let you violate my people’s rights. I’ll be present during their statements.”

He was so pleased with himself for forcing her hand that he didn’t notice Abby had managed to bring Wong in with her. She’d just convinced him to let both of them in.

She sighed, and turned to Wong. “Detective Wong, I’m sorry to take more of your time. Would this be acceptable?”

Wong’s face was impassive as before, but a glimmer of appreciation flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Fine,” she said brusquely. “As long as this ends today.”





CHAPTER 44


The newlywed couple weren’t happy to talk to Carver at all.

“We really don’t have time right now,” the groom, Rory, explained. “We have to get on a flight in five hours. We’re going on our honeymoon.”

“It won’t take long,” Carver said, glancing around. There were dozens of flower bouquets in the apartment. The place smelled like a flower shop. His allergies were flaring up. He would have to finish this up fast, before the sneeze-athon started.

“We still need to pack,” the bride said. Her name was Dori. Rory and Dori. What were they even thinking, getting married? “If this is about the cocaine at the wedding after-party, we didn’t know it would be there. It was all Rory’s uncle’s idea. We didn’t even do any.”

“It’s not about the cocaine at the party.” Carver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s about Liam Washington.”

“Who?” Dori asked, frowning.

“The photographer at your wedding.”

“What about him?” Rory asked, glancing at his watch.

“Do you remember at what time he got to your wedding?” Carver’s nose was about to implode. So. Many. Flowers.

“I don’t know,” Rory said. “Probably when it started. Around two.”

“No, he took photos of me before the ceremony, remember?” Dori asked. “After the makeup. So that would have been around—”