Snapshot
“I punched her number as soon as Mooney’s footsteps cleared the porch.
I’ve never yet tossed a client to the cops, but there’s always a first time. I figured I’d use Tina’s death to throw a scare into Emily Woodrow, speed up the process, get her to level with me. About her promised packet of information. About Cee Co. About why she needed a person with firearms expertise to take charge of her mysterious paperwork. Or else.
As the phone rang, I doodled on my blotter and tried to envision Emily, in her elegant beige suit, plunging a loaded hypodermic into Tina Sukhia’s arm. Or, more likely, forcing her to swallow a quantity of pills.
Had Emily ever been a nurse?
If Patsy Ronetti had done her job, I’d already know. Why the hell hadn’t she gotten back to me?
“Hello?” The voice was harried, anxious. I’d reached Harold, the husband, which seemed odd in the middle of the day. When I gave my name and asked to speak to his wife, he erupted, but not in the way I’d expected.
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