close to home. Brady won’t go down alone. He’s just the head of your department’s ugly zit. Covering it up might be in your best interest. Just a suggestion, seeing as we’ve got such a close professional relationship.”
When Cee Cee hesitated, Silas stepped in smoothly. “Cut the crap, Manny. What are you holding? Put ’em down or fold.”
Blutafino’s focus remained on the former Ms. Pepper. “Talk to Savoie. He knows. Ask him before you pop the cover off Brady’s blemishes. Your man’s a smart one. He’ll want to protect his own. Once you start picking, you’re going to uncover a pus of ugly doings no Band-Aid will be big enough to cover.”
Cee Cee did a quick mental catalog of her mate’s earlier activities, a resume of dark deeds immortalized in his NOPD jacket. Never proven.
What did Blutafino have on him?
“We’re waiting, Manny.” Silas checked his cheap watch. “Don’t waste our time, or you’ll be doing a lot of it right next to your pal.”
“Cummings. Start there.” Puppeteering the situation, Manny bestowed a cold, smug smile upon Charlotte. “And you might want to talk to your other partner, too. Him and Simon have been rather chatty lately.” Again, the smirk. “Do your homework, especially in his development deals with the Vantour brothers and, oh yeah . . . your father.”
That blast of information two-tapped her brain. Cee Cee blanked. Babineau. And her father?
Chuckle low and dark, Manny laced doughy hands atop the blotter as he mused, “Might be in your best interest to let them sleepin’ dogs lie and Warren retire quietly with full pension. Your choice, Detective. Start digging at your own risk.” A dismissive sneer. “Come back when you have a deal to offer, and I’ll tell you the rest.”
– – –
Out in the drizzle of midday under the neon flash of The Sweat Shop’s Bourbon Street claim of “Full Nude Girls,” Cee Cee hurled up her late-morning breakfast from Café Beignet. A total waste of crawfish omelet and powdered sugar. After mopping her face with a quickly offered handkerchief, she carefully straightened, hand on her spasming middle.
“We’ll chalk that up to your condition,” her partner offered, ever the diplomat.
“Dammit, Mac, I can’t let it go, and you know it.” Grateful for his steadying hand on her elbow as her world pitched and yawed, Cee Cee blinked away the burn in her eyes.
“He’s just trying to rattle you.”
She shrugged off the gentle handling of both words and support. “The only thing he’s going to be rattling is bars right next to his pal, Brady.” She started to walk toward MacCreedy’s car, fighting her way through the uncertainties of body and mind the way she did gawking tourists crowding the banquette for a salacious peek at the dancers inside through the club’s open door. Geez, even families with kids! What was wrong with people?
Her head bass-drummed. Was it true? Was her sainted father’s professional life as much a sham as his role as parent?
“Whatever you want to do, I’ll back you, Charlotte.”
She smiled tightly as Silas opened the car door for her. How pathetic she must look to earn that solicitous smile. “Thanks, Mac, but I can’t let it go.”
He nodded. “So, where to?”
To the source.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max smiled as his assistant Marissa held the door open for his unexpected visitor. “Detective, this is a surprise. A little late for lunch, but never for conversation.”
His brow furrowed as MacCreedy followed in her low-heeled footsteps to advise, “You’re not going to like this one, Savoie.”
“A professional call?”
Their hesitation initiated a gesture to comfy chairs on the other side of his desk. They settled in, looking far from at ease. When MacCreedy took a breath, Charlotte’s hand upon his forearm stayed him so she could take the lead down a path neither wanted to travel.
“We paid a visit to one of your associates,” she began. At the raise of a heavy brow, she elaborated. “Carmen Blutafino.”
“I can’t think of any business I currently have with him, nor do I plan for that to change.” Leaning back with unconcerned ease, he looked between them, eye contact direct and only mildly curious. They’d set the tone, so he’d abide by it. “What’s this about?”
MacCreedy was Max’s friend and also his closest confidant, but in his current guise as good cop, he revealed nothing, cool in attitude and stare. But Charlotte, Max knew intimately. Agitation quivered from her like a tuning fork’s discordant tone. Though outwardly relaxed, he tensed, awaiting the blow she readied to deliver.
“Not