Death to Blonds Ch. 06

And then they both were interrupted. Neil Paxton and a few of the other detectives who had been out on assignment were streaming into the room.

"Gather around, ladies," Paxton was bellowing. "Can't rest on our laurels on getting Brunelli behind bars. We have news on the serial killings case."

"I keep telling you," Danny turned from Clint and called out to Paxton. "Brunelli's good for those too. You'll see that I'm right."

"We have this other avenue we're pursuing," Paxton retorted, "and unless we can link Brunelli to the Larnaka Star, he might not be on this pathway."

"The Larnaka Star?" Danny said. "That's half way to Bermuda now. We've got several days before we pick up on that freighter."

"Not so. You weren't there when we learned from the Bermuda end that the freighter wasn't expected there this week. The port authority belatedly told us the freighter didn't leave for Bermuda at all. It just went up to Boston to take on some cargo. It returned this morning. These guys here served the warrant and searched the ship after the crew got off. They got the crew lists and schedules we wanted. But, more important, they found what could be the kill site."

"The kill site?" Clint asked.

"Yes," Paxton said. "There's a locker down in the bowels of the freighter with a cot and cuff attachments. And some blood. We took samples, but then we got out of there. It's up to Kahn to decide where we take it from here."

As if on cue, Burton Kahn was coming out of his office. He had a serious, concerned expression on his face.

"They got him," Kahn said in a subdued voice. "He didn't even have time to get processed and to his cell. When the bus pulled into receiving at Riker's, he was already dead on the bus. Knifed."

"Brunelli?" Paxton asked.

"Yes," Kahn answered.

Clint looked into Danny's face. The look of supreme satisfaction in his face made Clint want to puke. "Just tell me that this wasn't your doing, Danny—that you didn't arrange it."

"No. I didn't have to," Danny said. "Didn't I tell you that all that needed to be done was to get him away from his people."

"I heard that," Kahn said. "And I don't want to hear any more of it. And I don't want to hear it coming back from the outside, either. What is done is done. We're not going to stop following leads on the docks serial killing investigation, either. We don't want to spook the killer, if it's someone on the freighter crew—and if it wasn't Brunelli. I don't think for a minute that it was, though. So, we'll leave the locker you found unprocessed for now. I trust you have the ship's captain buttoned down, Neil?"

"Yep. He's not going to talk to any of the crew about this."

"OK, so, divvy up the crew member names among teams and tomorrow we'll round them up and start working on them." Kahn turned to go back to his office.

"What about the Wilde guy, Brunelli's bodyguard?" Paxton asked. "Brunelli's history, but Wilde is in the wind, and his trace was on the bodies of the judge and the witness as well."

"Oh, I forgot. The call on Brunelli knocked that out of my mind," Kahn answered. "I got that call just before I got the call on Brunelli. They picked up Wilde—down in Maryland, on I-95. And, surprise, surprise, they picked up Assistant D.A. Hodgkins with him."

When he said this, Kahn was giving Clint a look.

"What's that all about?" Danny asked.

"We'll have to see," Kahn answered. "Wheels within wheels. I wouldn't be surprised to know that Brunelli had Hodgkins in his pocket. I've seen some evidence of that. But putting the two together that we picked up may mean this was all a power play to get Brunelli out of the way."

Wheels within wheels was certainly what Clint was thinking too, as he reached for his share of the sailor files Paxton was handing out.

When everyone was settling down, he looked over at Danny, who wasn't as euphoric as he had been when he heard that Brunelli was dead. Clint was afraid he was brooding again about Clint not having stopped seeing Brunelli. Not that he had had a choice, Clint thought. Brunelli had always just taken what he wanted. Somehow Clint had to make Danny understand that. It just happened the first time, when Brunelli was just a thuggish-looking guy. Clint knew that wouldn't fly with Danny though. He'd counter with "a thug with a bodyguard, so guaranteed bad news."

What, Clint wondered, would have happened if he'd told Brunelli right off the top that he was a cop? It could have gone several ways then, and not too many of them good for Clint. But he knew he was kidding himself. He, Clint, wouldn't have called it off. He wanted what Brunelli had had to give.

"Danny," Clint said in a low voice.

No response.

"I was thinking that I might come back to your place with you for tonight."

"I don't think that would be wise," Danny said in a voice that was half choke and half growl. "I know you like it rough, but I don't think I could control my temper with you tonight."

There was no more conversation between the two. And in the silence Clint's mind raced on all that was happening in these investigations and on that phrase: wheels within wheels. This wasn't even close to being over where he was concerned.