Too Old a Cat (Trace 6) Read Online Free

toward Jackson, a look of agony on his handsome angular face.
    “You forgot to put tape in the machine,” Jackson said.
    “You must have dropped it, you big clumsy oaf,” Razoni said. “There was tape in that machine.”
    “There wasn’t any.”
    “Well, the hell with it,” Razoni said. “We’re not going to book them anyway. And besides, you heard everything.”
    “I didn’t hear anything,” Jackson said.
    “I can’t believe you. Why not?”
    “I was talking on the phone,” Jackson said.
    “Oh, I see. That’s good. At least you weren’t wasting your time. You were talking on the phone. Good. And how’s everything home. Wife all right? The kid, the nasty one, he all right too?”
    “I was talking to the captain,” Jackson said. “He said just finish up with these guys and go down and see him. He wanted to talk to us.”
    “Well, for Christ’s sake, why didn’t you say so?” Razoni said. “You can’t ever get to the point.”
    He walked away from Jackson toward the table where the two men sat, watching the detectives intently, trying to overhear what they had been saying.
    Razoni holstered his pistol.
    “I’ve decided to let you two men go,” Razoni said.
    Sonny Alcetta smirked. “I thought you might. How much?”
    “What did you say?” asked Razoni pleasantly.
    “I said how much?”
    “That’s what I thought you said.” The smile still on his face, Razoni raised his knee and kicked the man from the chair. He hit the floor with a thud.
    “I don’t know what you do with other cops, but don’t try to bribe me,” Razoni said. He turned toward the other man. “And you called me an asshole,” he said.
    Charlie Ribs raised his hands toward his face. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.
    “Good,” Razoni said. “I don’t mean anything by this.”
    His hands darted forward, brushing aside the other man’s hands. He grabbed the collar of the man’s jacket and slammed his head forward onto the table.
    The head hit with a thunk that echoed through the room.
    “What do you think, Tough?” Razoni called out.
    “Not loud enough,” Jackson said. His voice was a deep bass and resounded through the dark restaurant.
    “That’s what I thought too,” Razoni said. He pushed the man’s head back, then slammed it down onto the table again.
    “That’s better,” Jackson said.
    Razoni nodded and released the man’s collar. He brushed imaginary lint from the sleeves of his suit jacket.
    “Now, you two, listen,” he said. “You go back to whoever sent you and you tell them that Mr. Tippi is a very good friend of the police department and if they try to lean into him again, they will find themselves in very deep trouble.” He spoke slowly, his voice rising and falling for emphasis, as if lecturing young children. “Which is not to mention the trouble you two shits will be in because I will personally wipe up the streets with you. Is that very clear?”
    There were two answering grunts.
    “I don’t hear you,” Razoni chided. “Louder, please.”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes.”
    “Good,” Razoni said.
    Sonny Alcetta flinched as Razoni extended a hand toward him, but the detective simply picked up the billfold and looked through it. He examined the driver’s license. “Angelo Alcetta?” he said, disbelievingly. “You should be ashamed of yourself, doing this kind of work.” He took a hundred-dollar bill from the wallet’s cash compartment. “This is for the chair.” A business card slipped from the wallet with the bill and fell onto the table. Razoni looked at it.
    “Patrick Tracy, Private Investigator,” he read aloud. “Angelo, what do you need a private detective for?”
    “It’s personal,” Alcetta said.
    “I’d hate my last memory of you to be that you were uncooperative,” Razoni said.
    “My wife. He’s checking on my wife.”
    “You think she’s cheating on you?” Razoni asked.
    Glumly, Alcetta nodded. “She left me,” he said.
    “Can’t blame