business with Manny. With Cummings.”
Brows high-jumping in genuine surprise, Max drawled, “I don’t believe I have any doings with him now that the Riverfront project is complete. And certainly nothing that would account for this interrogation.”
“Just questions,” MacCreedy reassured, adding a smile.
Tired of the cat-and-mouse dangle of pungent cheese, Max leaned forward, palms flat on his desk, regarding them silently until both fidgeted. Whatever it was—and he had no idea what they suspected—it was bad. “Ask away.”
“You, Cummings, the Vantours,” Cee Cee began, then after a pause, quietly added, “and my father.”
Expression a careful blank, Max shook his head. “I’ve never had any dealings with your father, other than the few times he fitted me for handcuffs. I don’t believe we exchanged any words other than the Miranda rights. What are you fishing for, detectives?”
“A link.” Now, she wouldn’t meet his stare, becoming fascinated instead by a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket as if by tugging at it she could ravel his complicity in whatever ugliness she suspected.
“I’m afraid I don’t know of one. I wasn’t privy to every deal Jimmy negotiated, and none involved your father. Could Carmen be amusing himself, sending you on a goose chase to give himself more time to cover whatever it is you’re looking for?”
Silas’s broad shoulders relaxed. A narrow smile prefaced his summation. “That’s probably it.” He tapped his partner’s arm as he stood. She rose with him, reluctance bowstringing her movements. Right or wrong, she’d never apologize for doing her perceived duty. “Sorry we’ve wasted your time.”
“Not wasted,” Max assured them, also standing. “Always a pleasure.”
That wasn’t quite true, not for any of them.
Once the door closed, leaving only the lingering scent of his mate, Max slumped back in his chair, brow furrowing. Tommy Cassie . . . a complication he hadn’t considered for a long time, not since an early morning conversation in Simon Cummings’ kitchen.
If Carmen was leveraging that particular topic, he might have to pay a visit to his persistent nemesis. And it wouldn’t end well for the smug criminal.
– – –
They’d almost reached the Quarter to the sound of slapping wipers before Silas ventured, “Is he lying?”
“How would I know? He’s had a lifetime of practice learning from the best.” Cee Cee puffed out a breath. “Maybe Manny’s playing us while he buries whatever he thinks we could use to tie him to Brady. If that’s his play, it’s gonna bite him in the ass.” Her brittle chuckle drew, for a dangerous moment, her partner’s glance away from the heavy vehicle and foot traffic.
“Wanna elaborate?”
She sighed. “Not yet. That’s my high card, and I’m holding it close to the chest.”
Instead of being offended, MacCreedy shot her an approving nod as one who appreciated guile. “So, what next? Think Manny was just pulling our chain by throwing Babineau at us?”
Cee Cee didn’t want to consider the question. She and her other frequent partner had had many a tense go-round over why cops and criminals shouldn’t mix. Had he done something about it? Something stupid?
Something illegal?
She gnawed her lip, studying the dusty dashboard as if it had become a crime scene before saying, “I’ll talk to him, Mac. I don’t want to drag you into the middle of our dirty laundry, if that’s all it is.”
“I’m very good with laundry, you know.”
She scowled at both tone and insinuation, the air in the car thickening dangerously. “Want to explain that?”
Silas never flinched, always the cucumber of cool. “You two go way back. Partners are like family. We protect our own even when . . .”
“When what?”
“Even when one of them does something they regret.”
MacCreedy’s brevity was one of the things Charlotte liked most about him. The other was that unflinching honesty that wouldn’t allow him to cover up for Alain Babineau’s possible wrongdoings if they ventured beyond the embrace of their two tight communities. At that point, she’d step back and let Silas do his job, no matter how difficult that recusal was.
And if it was Max leading them astray?
A sudden flutter beneath her palm distracted from that answer she couldn’t find. Massaging the area gently as if to reassure Max Savoie’s heir, Charlotte refused to consider that scenario. Unless she had to.
“Glove box.”
Cee Cee glanced over in surprise. “What?” She followed his gesture and popped the box to find a stash of cracker packets. At her brow arch, he smiled.
“Pick ’em up for my better half. She’s about a month ahead of you. Good for second trimester