“Funny. Thanks.”

“He does want your job, though. He pretty much asked me for it.”

“Recently?”

“An hour ago.”

French made his own throat noise, then poured three fingers of scotch into a pair of cut tumblers, and gave one to the captain. Martin took a sip and made all the right faces: appreciation, contemplation. That lasted about three seconds. “Did you have to hit him so hard?”

French sat, and sipped, and shrugged. “He made my wife cry.”

“Martinez was right to come here, and was right to ask those questions. Gibby’s whereabouts and movements need to be accounted for, if only to rule him out as a suspect. It’s Cop 101.”

“Yeah, well. He was being an asshole.”

“Oh, an asshole?” The captain faked amazement. “No one told me that. Can you imagine the shock I’m feeling right now?”

“Now you’re being an asshole.”

“Only to make a point. Because I know you’ve pushed hard plenty of times, and suspect that what Martinez did was no different. Right or wrong, my friend, your son is in the thick of things.”

“Only circumstantially.”

“He knew Tyra and Sara. Your other son knew them, too, but that’s not the point. Or, hell, maybe it is. The only thing clear to me is that Martinez was doing his job. You were out of line to interfere, let alone lay him out on your kitchen floor.”

“Maybe.” Another sip. “But you didn’t see the pleasure he took in doing it.”

“You shattered his nose.”

“Worth it.”

“You also broke off two veneers.”

“That reminds me.” French fished in his shirt pocket, pulled out bits of fake teeth, and dropped them on the table. The captain turned a little green. French threw a leg up on the table beside them. Blue jeans. Nice loafers. “Will he press charges?”

“So far, he’s not … uh … amenable to letting you slide.”

“You don’t really believe Gibson has anything to do with this, do you?”

“Two days ago? No. Never. But now?” The captain spread his palms in a way French did not like at all. “Now, his brother’s back in town, and dealing guns. Gibby’s out all hours, and mixed up with another outlaw motorcycle club—”

“Just the Angels, and only the once.”

“A naïve kid trying to help his big brother. Yeah, you told me. But it’s not that simple anymore.” The captain pushed his drink to the side, his features serious. “The night we arrested Jason on weapons violations, we picked up one of the Pagans he’d been selling to. Darius Simms, some kind of shot caller. You heard of him?”

“He says Jason shot him in the foot and leg. I read the report.”

“Not all of it.”

The tone of his voice was not a good sign. “You held back on me?”