Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
AS BRUYN WAS walking me out with my files, I promised to provide him with regular updates.
“Make sure you do or you won’t find this town nearly so cooperative.”
“Yes, sir.”
We were at the door when it opened and in walked the guy whose BMW I’d failed to fix earlier. He frowned at me, then turned to Bruyn.
“Chief Bruyn?”
“That’s right.”
The man flipped out a badge. “Detective Michael Kennedy. Dallas PD. I believe you’re investigating the death of my sister, Claire. I’m here to help.”
seven
seven
Bruyn led Kennedy into his office and perched on the desk. Kennedy took the chair I’d sat in earlier. I stood inside the door, file folders in hand.
Kennedy explained that he’d come to offer his help solving his sister’s murder. He’d already spoken to the sheriff’s department and they said they didn’t have a problem with it, but he’d have to clear things with Bruyn.
“I have resources and contacts. I know what it’s like, everyone tightening their belts. A multiple-murder investigation must have your budget shot already.”
Kennedy was playing it just right. Bruyn fairly rubbed his hands with glee at the prospect of getting a big-city detective, free of charge. The fact that the detective didn’t look over thirty and was the victim’s brother seemed lost on him.
He put the same deal to Kennedy that he had to me. Kennedy was welcome to investigate, provided he kept Bruyn abreast of his findings. Kennedy was fine with that.
“You don’t call your mom nearly as often as you should,” I finally said.
Kennedy jumped.
“Savannah Levine,” I said, extending a hand. “The private investigator whose partner your mother hired to investigate your sister’s death.”
“If you’re referring to Annette Kennedy, that’s Claire’s mother, not mine. And, no, I don’t speak to her any more than necessary. If she hired you, I’m sorry. Claim your time and move on. I’m here now.”
“Does that one work for you a lot?”
“I’m a professional.”
“Then I guess vou win.” I waved my license. “I got this out of a gum-ball machine. You may be a cop, but this isn’t Dallas. I’m the professional here.”
The look he gave me made me want to slap him with an energy bolt.
“Well now, this is a situation, isn’t it?” Bruyn said. Then he smiled, and I knew what was coming next. “I’m sure, Detective, that you have resources and contacts that I don’t. So does Miss Levine—different resources, different contacts, and a different set of playing rules. Between the two of you—”
“I don’t work with private detectives,” Kennedy said.