Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

Anyone trained in the discipline of psychology has an unfair advantage. Our arsenal is filled with lethal weapons, the most effective of which, I employ at every opportunity. Getting information from people who might otherwise guard their reactions can best be obtained by appearing to be soft and warm, a dash of friendliness, a little ego stroking followed by a swift transition into the cobra ready to strike.

Judging the looks on Briscoe and Conall's faces, I had lulled them into a complete sense of intimate camaraderie before my hood spread and venom spewed paralytic poison in their faces. Conall was wounded. Briscoe was downright pissed, red-faced and puffing.

"I'll have you know that the department would love nothing better than to catch that smarmy creep committing a crime!" he bellowed. 

I suppressed the grin that threatened, hid the delight over the bulging neck veins and the big one in the center of his forehead that started writhing in a serpentine dance of its own.

"In fact, it wasn't long after that gambling fiasco took root out on Hennessey Island that we lost a good man who knew Datello was up to no good!"

"Indeed. Tell me about that, Detective Briscoe." I folded my hands calmly in my lap and sent the most unflappable, therapeutic stare in the history of clinical psychology along with the pleasant request for more information.

He sputtered for a moment. "I... the hell with you! Apologize for that slanderous accusation, Eriksson, or by God, we are done talking!" His blunt index finger punctuated the tantrum.

"I feel no compulsion to apologize for asking a legitimate question, Detective Briscoe. I haven't even been here for 24 hours yet, and the bizarre nature of criminal investigations by the police department points to the very kind of interference I implied by my question. You're telling me that the interests of Danny Datello do not influence you. Fine. In the absence of hard evidence to support my suggestion, I'll accept your assertion at face value."

"Dammit," he growled and glanced at Conall. "She just insulted us again, didn't she?"

"Just a little bit, but Tony, she has a point. Think about her first impression of us. We're at a crime scene, outside our jurisdiction, fighting for control. Not to mention, I'm the alibi witness for a person of interest in the case. That fact aside, we're both friends of Johnny to boot. What would that look like to any outsider, not just any, but a fed?"

"Paranoid bastards."

I couldn't hold back the grin another second. "Paranoia doesn't preclude the possibility that people are out to get you, Detective Briscoe. Sometimes paranoia is simply good common sense." It was the first tidbit of Dad's wisdom I shared with anyone.

Incredulous eyes widened in focus on me.

"Come on, Briscoe. Surely Orion told you that a couple of private detectives have been watching my every move since I got here. Forsythe's crime techs even found electronic surveillance in my hotel room after someone broke in this morning. They stole my laptop computer for God's sake."

They shared another glance, this one uneasy. Conall spoke.

"He told us nothing of the kind, Helen."

"Tell me who you lost because he dared investigate Danny Datello."

Briscoe snorted. "It was an assistant district attorney."

"David Ireland," Conall added. "Nobody ever knew what he uncovered, but considering that he was assassinated and his office was ransacked, everyone concluded that it was damning enough to put Datello in prison for a very long time."