Daylight (Atlee Pine, #3)(67)
Sands had collapsed against the wall and was panting with tears in his eyes.
“We weren’t going to kill him,” said the other man, rubbing a bruise on his cheek where it had slammed into the pavement. “We were going to talk to him about some delinquent bills.”
“And you do that with guns?” said Pine.
“Mr. Sands usually needs some persuading.”
Puller took out his phone and punched in a number. “Well, you can explain your technique to NYPD, how about that?”
“You don’t really want to do that.”
They turned because this came from Sands, who had regained his composure and was looking at them imploringly. “These are business associates of mine. They really weren’t going to hurt me.”
“Which I can’t say for you two,” the same man said, rubbing his cheek again.
Pine said, “Either one of you know Tony Vincenzo?”
The men glanced at each other until the bleeder said, “Who?”
Puller put his phone away and looked at Sands, who said, “This has nothing to do with Tony. They don’t know him.”
Pine turned her attention to him. “But you do?”
“I know him, yeah,” he said grudgingly.
Puller glanced at the two men. “Beat it.”
The men looked in surprise at each other and then hurried off, disappearing into the mist as quietly as they had emerged from it.
Sands pushed off the wall and straightened out his clothes. “Thanks for the help. I’d buy you a drink, but I have someplace I have to be.”
Puller hooked him by the arm. “You do have a place to be. Speaking with us. Let’s go.”
Sands strained against him. “This is a free country and I’ve done nothing wrong. So get your damn hands off me.”
Pine stepped forward. “Or we can call up your grandfather and let him know what our investigation has uncovered about you.”
“You think he’d care?” sneered Sands. “Why don’t you call the asshole who happens to be my father and see what you’d get there?”
“Maybe they won’t be interested, but the police probably will. Those guys weren’t collecting for a charity. How much do you owe them?”
“Why are you guys giving me such a hard time?”
Puller remarked, “We know what you’re involved in, Jeff. And people have died. What makes you think you’re special?”
“Who’s died?”
“Tony Vincenzo’s father. And a woman named Sheila Weathers.”
Sands looked panicked. “Sheila! You’re lying. She was just—”
“Just what? Just at that penthouse the other night? So was I. She’s dead. I saw her body.”
“You’re lying.”
“We can take you right now to the morgue to see her corpse. It won’t be pretty because they’ve already autopsied her. I have the report on my phone. You want to see the pictures?”
Sands shook his head and put a shaky hand to his face. “No . . . I . . .”
“Let’s go get a cup of coffee. There’s an all-night place right around the corner,” said Puller.
They walked off into the darkness.
CHAPTER
43
IT TOOK ONE FULL CUP OF COFFEE before Sands would even look up at them.
The place was a dive, but pleasant enough, and not too crowded at this hour. Both Pine and Puller had kept an eye out for the two men who had gone after Sands. If they were out there, and they probably were, they were good at staying invisible.
“You want something to eat?” asked Pine, who cradled her coffee and let the steam rise to her face, helping to cut against the rawness outside.
Sands shook his head, dumped some sugar into the cup the waitress had just refilled, and said, “Sheila was nice.”
“She told me she was sort of dating Tony.”
Sands pushed a hand through his thick, tousled hair. He looked like a Kennedy, thought Pine. Handsome, charming, connected, and sometimes getting into serious trouble.
“I guess she was. But we all hung out.”
“She worked at Fort Dix, in the commissary,” said Pine. “At least that’s what I was told.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“So why did a girl like that warrant a pass to Billionaires’ Row?”
“Because I said she could. Same as Tony.”
“Same as Lindsey Axilrod?”
“Lindsey? Why are you mentioning her?”
“Because she was the one who set me and Sheila up. She helped whoever killed Sheila.”
“No way, I don’t believe that,” he said heatedly. “Lindsey’s cool. She wouldn’t do something like that.”
“And how do you know Lindsey?” asked Pine.
“We . . . we just met. The way people do.”
“Why do I think she sought you out?” said Pine.
“Why would she do that? She’s just an IT worker at Fort Dix.”
“I went to the penthouse with Lindsey. She got in because of her connection to Tony. Or at least I thought that then. She pointed out Sheila to me there. We arranged to meet with her later. Lindsey and I were getting into what I thought was an Uber that Lindsey ordered. The next thing I remember I was waking up next to a dead Sheila, and Lindsey was nowhere to be seen.”