Chapter 65
“BROTHER DEAREST,” TOMMY said as he entered my office, arms spread wide. He was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit, no tie, and appeared to have hit the tanning salon earlier in the morning.
I remembered my brother winking at me in the courtroom the day of his arraignment. Was this part of his plan? Figure out a way to get me to admit that I was at the scene when Clay Harris took a 9mm round to the chest? It was not beyond Tommy to go this route. I still suspected that Tommy had hired Clay to kill my ex-girlfriend in the first place. In order to frame me for the murder. Since that didn’t work out, it only made sense that he’d try to frame me for Clay’s murder instead. But I had no proof.
Carmine entered my office right behind Tommy, his skin an even deeper red against his starched white collar and yellow cashmere sweater. “Jack,” the mobster said, as if we were long-lost golf buddies. “How gracious of you to entertain us at such short notice.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “What’s the proposition?”
“What, no business pleasantries?” Tommy said, taking a seat across the desk from me.
“I’m not feeling particularly pleasant, brother,” I replied.
Tommy beamed at me as if I’d said something of deep significance.
Carmine shut the door. He looked around my office, a space I intentionally keep devoid of personal effects. In my line of work, I’ve found that it pays to know more about other people than they do about me. Carmine gazed at me, popped his chin up. “Place bugged?”
“Good idea, but no,” I said. “You fellows wearing wires?”
Tommy cocked his head as if I’d gone paranoid, which I had.
“Nah,” Carmine said. “I was never one for taping myself.”
I said nothing. Tommy scowled but took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and showed me his chest and back. “Satisfied, brother?”
“Carmine?” I said.
“Fuck you,” Carmine said, as Tommy tucked his shirt back in.
I sighed wearily. “What’s the proposition, then? I’m a busy man.”
“I heard that,” Tommy said, and laughed. “Saw that too: the expression on your face when Bobbie Newton caught you with the Harlow children. It was worth the price of admission. You’re a television star, brother, you really are.”
“Glad to have entertained you,” I shot back. “By the way, I found it interesting that you designed the security system at the Harlows’ estate, Tommy. The one that was so easily foiled.” I looked at Carmine. “You two didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance, did you?”
The mobster acted insulted. “Do I look like I’m in the business of kidnapping celebs?”