A blue-collar detective is playing a fool’s game to delve into corporate malfeasance. Previous encounters with such entities should’ve taught me to run the opposite direction. Alas, money talks louder than common sense. I accepted Adeyemi’s case because I was short on dough, not because I liked the smell of the proposition. Those hospital stays to treat my busted skull and the numerous follow-ups had ripped a hole in my savings. The sound of an MRI motor is the world’s loudest cash register hoovering a patient’s wallet. Cut-rate health insurance wasn’t built to weather this kind of storm. Another mob perk I’d taken for granted—the Family paid for every bump, bruise, and bullet hole incurred in the line of duty.

Except . . . this dead nephew case represented more than a chance to bail my leaky financial boat. I’ll admit that pride figured into the equation. I love to challenge authority. Wave a red cape under my nose and I’m liable to react.

Mostly, however, it was about the dough.

■■■

Lionel appeared on my doorstep, staggering and depleted as the messenger at Marathon. He’d competed in an all-night online poker tournament, stopped to check the news, and beheld the red ticker of woe that media runs at the top of the page.

The Feds nabbed Adeyemi at JFK airport and whisked him to arraignment. There were many counts. Extortion, witness tampering, and obstruction of justice were the trio that received most of the play-by-play analysis from the network and cable talking heads.

Lionel sat on the couch, beer in hand.

“I wouldn’t be rushin’ to any conclusions, but I foresee an accident for a certain ex-bodyguard, ex-majordomo-slash-pimp, cum freelance douchebag.”

“An accident?” I said. “Like that former advisor to the Kremlin who died in a Virginia hotel room. The dude ‘fell’ repeatedly and severed his spine.”

“What kind of medical examiner signs off on such bullshit? Two-to-one gets you Adeyemi is sleeping with the fishes sooner or later.”

“Adeyemi is an evil sonofabitch. Even the fish won’t eat him.”

“Amigo, this deal is extra dicey,” he said. “Possible corporate espionage. Dirty ex-cops. Russian mafia. A rotten senator. Why the hell did Adeyemi sic you on Redlick anyway? Must’ve been pissed off at getting the cold shoulder.”

“He didn’t sic me on anybody. He asked me to double-check the facts.”

“Redlick Group and Zircon won’t appreciate your due diligence.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re worried digging into the corporate side will jinx your canoodling with Delia?”

“The way you blunder around . . . I’m probably shit outta luck. Don’t inadvertently ruin my love life, bro. That’s all I ask.”

“Scout’s honor,” I said.

“You need the cash,” he said. “I need the cash. Who doesn’t need the cash? Seriously, Delia says her dad has it in for you. The riffraff on his payroll would have no problem taking a shot if he gave the order.”

“Understood. Anything happens to me, certain papers and videos linking Zircon to the Croatoan will surface. Should keep the wolves at bay until a better plan comes along.”