Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [33]
When Johnny knew his time was up, he made a deal with Mickey and his brother--Johnny's younger brother, nice guy, who's a cop in Philadelphia, and who had cared for their mother until she died; Johnny had never married--which gave twenty-five percent of the place to O'Neal and the rest to his brother.
"We're talking about me buying him out, over time, you know, but right now, I'm just running the place for the both of us. Once a month, I write him a check for his share of what we make. It's a pretty good deal all around. The bar stays open, which means I have a job, and his brother gets a check--a nice check, I don't mind saying--once a month. Which is nice, too. Johnny figured he owed his brother--did I say he's a cop in Philly?--for taking care of their mother all those years."
There were now answers to the questions raised by what Detective Payne had learned at the Northampton County Court House: Seven months before, for one dollar and other good and valuable consideration, all assets, real estate, inventory and goodwill of the property privately held by John Paul Cassidy at 2301 Tatamy Road, Easton, had been sold to the Shamrock Corporation. The building at 2301 Tatamy Road housed both Johnny Cassidy's Shamrock Bar and, above it, four apartments on two floors.
It would appear on the surface--he would nose around a little more, of course--that there was a perfectly good reason for Captain Cassidy's sudden affluence. If the brother had insurance, which seemed likely--and the mother did, which also seemed likely--that would explain where he had gotten the cash to buy the condominium at the shore. And it seemed reasonable that getting a check every month for his share of the profits would explain why Captain Cassidy felt he could afford to give his old Suburban to his daughter and buy a new Yukon XL, no money down, to be paid for with the monthly check.
Detective Payne had a third beer "on the house" and another pickled egg, and then got back in his Porsche to return to Philadelphia.
[TWO]
The temptation to take the very interesting winding road beside the old Delaware Canal was irresistible. But he didn't want to go back through Doylestown--past the Crossroads Diner--so he turned off Route 611 onto Route 32 a few miles south of Riegelsville, and followed it along the Delaware.
A few miles past New Hope, his cellular phone tinkled. He looked at his watch and saw that it was quarter to five.
That's probably Peter. Despite what he said about filling him in in the morning, he wants to know what I found out.
"Yes, sir, Inspector, sir. Detective Payne at your service, sir."
"Hey, Matt," a familiar voice said. It was that of Chad Nesbitt. They had been best friends since kindergarten.
"The Crown Prince of tomato soup himself? To what do I owe the honor?"
"Where are you?" Chad asked, a tone of exasperation in his voice.
"About five miles south of picturesque New Hope on Route 32. I presume there is some reason for your curiosity?"
"What are you doing way up there?"
"Fighting crime, of course. Protecting defenseless citizens such as yourself from evildoers."
"Daffy wants you to come to supper. Can you?"
Daffy was Mrs. Nesbitt.
"Why does that make me suspicious?"
"Matt, for Christ's sake, make peace with her. It gets to be a real pain in the ass for me with you two always at each other's throat."
"What's the occasion?"
"There's a girl she wants you to meet."
"Not only no, but hell no."
"This one's nice. I think you'll like her."
"She's a nymphomaniac who owns a liquor store?"
"Sometimes, Matt, you can be a real pain in the ass," Chad said.
There was a perceptible silence.
"Come on, Matt. Please."
"If you give me your solemn word that when I get there, we can go directly from 'How do you do?' to carnal pleasures on your carpet without--"
"Fuck you. Come or don't."
"When?"
"As soon as you can get here."
"Okay," Matt said. "Take me half an hour, depending on the traffic on Interstate 95."
The Wachenhut Security guards who stood