The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(29)

I bite my lip, a thought occurring to me. “You don’t think that Casey Junior . . .” I can’t even finish my sentence. Son killing father certainly isn’t an unheard-of story line in comics.

Matteo frowns, picking up my thought anyhow. “Hurt his father to keep the comic running? Possibly. Your friend Lawrence said that Casey Junior was pretty bent out of shape about his father’s death, right? I don’t really see him murdering his father in cold blood, but we’ll have to add it to our list of possibilities. I’m not sure that we have enough to question him yet, though, anything to tie him to the real reason we’re investigating these comics.” He rubs his hand over his stubbled chin, making a rasping noise.

“I guess,” I say, not convinced. Casey Junior is my number-one suspect, internally. Kill your father in cold blood to keep him from ruining the empire he’s built and take it over to reap fame and fortune? Add a few capes and some spandex, and it seems like a Hollywood blockbuster plot to me.

“It doesn’t help my theory if the story line never really got finished for our masked avenger to replicate or follow.” Matteo glances over the comics, then up at me. “Can we go over the order of events in the issue that we’re loosely following? Let’s try to get ahead of our misguided superhero before he gets killed in the crossfire.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I have that one, actually. Well, half of it. It’s old. It fell apart years ago.” I dig around in the pile I brought over and hand some papers to Matteo to hold while I sort through issues. My copy is battered compared to the pristine one in the work library, but I love it just the same.

I flip to the page. “Okay, so if I were to guess about what were to happen next? It would be something in a warehouse. Or on a boat. We already know that our suspect was in the warehouse district. We could guess he tracked these guys to where they stash their drugs, either when they get them in or when they’re being sent out.”

Matteo nods, flicking through the papers I handed him. He’s not paying attention again. “Warehouse or boat. I’ll look into those. Can I borrow that issue from you?” He’s still focused on the pile of papers, frowning like he’s looking for something right in front of his face.

I’m kind of offended that he’s brushing off my predictions. That’s the whole reason he’s here, right? I’m starting to think that maybe he has superhuman powers to focus on two things at one time, and he’s very interested in my papers for some reason. I hesitate. He’s not asking for the original series, but it’s still against my rules. “Yeah, no problem. Just get them back to me.”

“What is this?”

I eyeball the pile of papers. “My research for my article on the thirtieth anniversary of THF.” It’s about the LA heroin war that framed the backdrop for the rise of The Hooded Falcon’s popularity, and I can tell the eerie similarity to the comic isn’t lost on Matteo. He flips to the next papers in the bunch. “And these?”

My heart flip-flops, recognizing the acceptance letter I received in the mail. I still can’t believe it is true. “Information on San Diego Comic-Con. I entered a costuming contest held there.” I stop short of telling him all about the biggest geek-girl fashion design competition in the country and how excited I am. Matteo seems to inspire conversational tangents, making me want to prattle on like a schoolgirl. I have to keep course correcting my brain if this is a business meeting. I am an LAPD consultant now, after all.

“This.” He sits up straighter and nearly throws the paper at me. “This we can go in with.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” I pick up the folded printout of the list of memorabilia for the charity auction. Casey Junior’s face smiles from the too-polished-to-be-candid picture of him sitting at his father’s desk in their LA mansion. “The charity auction?”

“No, the picture.”

I study it, then glance up at him, still baffled.

“Beside the desk,” Matteo nearly crows.

I look back and do a double take. It’s a glass cabinet tucked into the corner of the room housing a perfect replica of the Hooded Falcon’s costume—cape and all.

“You think . . . my boss?” I can’t imagine Casey Junior running through the streets in a cape.

Matteo shrugs, but his eyes sparkle. I’m pretty sure it’s the same look I get when a great idea strikes me at work. “It’s enough to question him. Let’s see if your friend’s information holds water. Thank you for your help, Michael-Grace. I’ll be in touch about the interview with Casey and let you know if I find anything on the warehouse front.”

I pad to the door behind him. He slips on his shoes and heads outside with a wave. A second later he sticks his head back in. I’m still standing there, fighting the insane urge I have to run after him like I don’t want him to leave.

“Oh, but I guess I’ll see you this weekend. I’ll call—er, text you about it. I’m looking forward to meeting your coworkers.” He winks.

I smile, relieved that this isn’t fully goodbye.





CHAPTER 11

I shut the door behind him and turn to find Ryan and Lawrence standing in the entry again. These guys are sneaky for large men.

Lawrence’s mouth hangs ajar. “He’s meeting your coworkers?”