Skip Case (David Dean Mysteries)

"Vinnie, you bastard, I'll kill you! You sicced those gangster sons-of-bitches on Cynthia Byrne too!"

"Davey, I didn't mean no harm. I didn't tell 'em to do nothing to you!"

Winston dragged him toward the doorway, pausing by Rita's desk. "Sorry 'bout the language, Ma'am."

"No problem," she answered, neither stopping her typing nor looking up.

"Oink! Oink! Oink! You bastard pig slopper!" Dean screamed after Vinnie, shrugging off Harrigan and slumping into his chair. Dean pounded his fist on the desk in disgust just as Andy Sackler entered the room.

"Your buddy Vinnie's lawyered-up with your girlfriend's part­ner, Arthur Atherton. The two sleaze-bags deserve each other."

"That's all I need," Dean moaned. "That son-of-a-bitch Vinnie! I never should have answered his phone call."

Leland Anderson burst out of his office. "Hold-up down on Broad Street. Sackler and Dean, get down there!"

Dean grabbed his coat, glad to be doing something that took his mind off Vinnie Baratto, Arthur Atherton and the fact he and Cynthia Byrne were items of interest to some very nasty people.

Sackler and Dean spent the afternoon listening to the exagger­ated tale of a variety store owner who had been held up at gun­point, and supposedly relieved of $1,500. The store hadn't done $500 in business the past month by the looks of things, and the two hardened robbers sounded like kids. Nevertheless, the owner was frightened enough to stain the front of his pants. He swore the water pistol found outside couldn't have been the weapon. It was nowhere near large enough and how could he have been that mis­taken? But the old man, finally, with much reluctance, agreed to re-figure the amount stolen when Dean began to ask how fre­quently deposits were made and offered to check bank records.

The investigation killed the entire afternoon and part of the evening before they finished checking the neighborhood. By 8:00, Dean was ready to call it a day. He'd eaten neither lunch nor din­ner.

On a prompt from his answering machine, Dean called the sta­tion and checked the night desk for messages. There were two. Cynthia Byrne called saying he needn't be concerned about the burglary as nothing had been stolen and it was probably just kids. He considered returning her call but dismissed the idea. He'd already inadvertently caused her enough problems. He'd stay clear and give her a rest.

Jonathan Winston called to report that J. Cleary was the only listed person to receive mail at the Bascomb Street address and there had been no form filed requesting forwarding. Dean was sur­prised by the FBI's prompt response to what he'd described to Winston as an unimportant matter.