The Granite Moth Read Online Free Page B

said in the sing-song voice she adopted when I was being unreasonable. Still, I knew that if she was really unhappy, she would make a clucking noise, so I was in the clear. When I rubbed my eyes, she stopped her frantic packing, and I knew that I was being observed, curious about what tactful phrase Meeza would use to describe my bedraggled appearance. At least a quick stop by the bathroom had gotten most of the smoke residue off. It wasn’t that unusual for my job to take me behind garbage bins and onto tar-filled rooftops. She’d definitely seen worse than scrapes and smelled worse than the electrical tang clinging to my sweater. Meeza settled on “a bit tired.”
    â€œYou were at the parade?” she asked quietly before her eyes widened. “The man you know from the bird club?”
    â€œHe’ll be okay,” I said quickly.
    Meeza paused to consider my assessment. I could see rival impulses flash across her face as she decided whether seeking more information would be appropriate or prying. “Did you get what you needed?” she finally asked.
    I blanked at first, picturing Dolly’s perfect skin slashed in pink, then remembered my clandestine meeting for information about Salvatore Magrelli. It wasn’t often that I forgot about the man I considered Lord of the Underworld. I’d only given Meeza hazy details, and thankfully she hadn’t pressed me.
    â€œYeah, I’ve got a whole file of possibilities. My own homework.”
    Meeza gave me an appraising look and a quick hug. When she rushed out the door, I took her place on the couch. I had my qualms about her new relationship to say the least. But V.P. and I had an unspoken agreement. He wouldn’t mention my past life, dragging Meeza into worry she didn’t deserve. I wouldn’t share his rap sheet, a laundry list of misdemeanors begging to be bumped up to felonies.
    When I sat up on my knees, I could look out the window into the alley below or the empty offices next door. Neither view was particularly exciting, not even a rat in sight. That made it easy to turn my attention to the stack of papers Ellis had given me. I glanced at the first page, feeling torn. I could hear Big Mamma’s statement that she wanted someone’s undivided attention. Should I postpone my investigation while I look into the explosion? It seemed indulgent to pursue what could be called a vendetta in the right light when a friend was in need.
    I had trained myself not to think about the most harrowing days of my undercover work, using psychological tricks I’d invented myself. My actual department-assigned shrink had wanted me to relive each and every fear with the notion that visualizing the trauma would help me come to terms with it. I didn’t think much of his methods and preferred to visualize shooting the heart out of a target anytime my mind wandered down an unpleasant path. Totally healthy, I know.
    That night, however, I was too tired to war with my memories and found myself thinking back to the day I refused to shoot a teenager who had found out about a cocaine shipment. When Salvatore Magrelli had pushed a gun into my hand, I had shoved it back. I didn’t run away fast enough to miss the sound of bullets being fired into the boy’s head. You’d think something like that would be enough to build a case against the monster, but no. The boy’s younger brother had taken the fall with promises of riches when he was released from juvie. I don’tknow about riches, but I’d checked on him. He was dealing pot and getting into the kind of trouble you’d expect from a kid who’d watched his sibling get murdered—assault, vandalism, harassment. He didn’t look like a kid anymore in his latest mug shot, but I could still picture the first one, his watery brown eyes haunting me when I let my guard down. Like now.
    I spread out the papers from Ellis and began reading at random. Almost all of