“He’s probably waltzing out the front door like he owns the place.”

I raced out of the room, through the office, heading for the ground floor. I pushed through the doors just in time to see Spada open the door on a black Cadillac. He stood there for a time, conversing with a gaunt little man in a blue power suit holding an expensive-looking briefcase.

“Spada!”

The startled look on his face quickly melted into a self-satisfied grin. When I reached the Caddy, the lawyer moved to act as a buffer between us. His mouth opened to protest, but Spada placed a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. “Ms. Raines, I suppose I have you to thank for this inconvenience?”

“That’s all it is to you?”

“I’m not quite sure what you think I’ve done, but I promise you I’m just an ordinary businessman. Besides, this is police business, isn’t it? Nothing to do with you?”

“It became my business when you had Darby’s body delivered to me.”

He shot me a woeful look that didn’t come close to looking sincere. “I was absolutely horrified to hear what happened to Vincent, but I had nothing to do with his death. He was a man with a colorful past. It’s ludicrous to think I had anything to do with that.”

“And slanderous,” the lawyer added.

“My lawyers seem to think the police don’t have a leg to stand on, and neither do you. Isn’t that right, Jerome?” He flicked a look at the lawyer, who reached into his case and came out with a legal document, which he shoved into my hands. A cursory glance told me it was a cease-and-desist order that put me in the same boat as Marta and the CPD. I was not to contact, harass, or approach Nick Spada from this point onward. I sneered at the order and thought of Big Percy Prescott and Earlene Skipper. What goes around comes around, I guessed.

I waved the paper. “You think this is going to do it?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Something over my shoulder caught Spada’s attention, and I turned to see what he was looking at. Jung was standing in the doorway, watching us.

“I assume that’s the young man who started all of this? Ayers’s friend?”

I turned to face him. “How do you know that?”

“You’d be surprised at all the things I know.” He leaned in, his cloying breath a mixture of stale coffee and mint. “The next time you stop by my office, I’d appreciate your making an appointment first.”

I glared at him, watching as he eased into the backseat of the big car. “Jerome?”

Jerome moved to push me back. “One finger touches me, Jerome, and you’ll eat that briefcase.”