Page 6 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

Gaffney came to his feet, planting his hands on the desk and leaning in, his face tight with anger. “That was before I knew who her new boss was! Afterward I told you that this was a fucking stupid idea.”

Gaffney had said exactly that, actually. But it had been worth the risk. It still was. Naomi Cranston needed to go back to prison. It was that simple.

It was also that complicated. He needed the woman back in prison for personal reasons that Gaffney would never be privy to. Not ever.

If Gaffney knew…

I’d find myself blackmailed in a heartbeat.

But the man was easily manipulated—useful in a foot soldier, but in a partner? Not so much.

Which was why John Gaffney would never be his partner.

Of course Gaffney thought he was a partner—because he was easily manipulated.

It was better to let Gaffney think he had an equal say until he no longer needed the detective. He and Gaffney were rebuilding their contacts and connections. Their network had been neglected for the past two and a half years out of necessity.

Cresswell’s arrest had shone an unwelcome light on their business, so they’d laid low. That meant their dealers and distributors had gone to work with others. Many had left New Orleans for other cities. They would be rebuilding for at least a year.

More importantly, there was the new business. One he’d put a lot of his own money into financing. He could manage the staffing for the new business on his own while Gaffney ran defense with the NOPD. Making sure the right people looked the other way.

Once they’d solidified the operation, Gaffney would no longer be useful. He’d suffer a heart attack or maybe he’d have a car accident on a rainy evening. Anything that didn’t raise red flags within the department.

Gaffney was still leaning into his space, still huffing like a bull. Daring me to huff back. But that was never going to happen.

Unlike Gaffney, I maintain my calm.

“Sit down, Detective Gaffney.”

Gaffney’s nostrils flared and for a moment, he wondered if the man was going to hit him.

Let him try.

But Gaffney’s sense of self-preservation must have kicked in, because the detective sat down.

He inclined his head. “Thank you. As I was saying, we knew the involvement of Broussard was a possibility.” He hadn’t considered it a high likelihood, however, because Naomi Cranston had never sought help in the past. She was supposed to fold in the face of threats to her son, just like she had six years before.

She was supposed to obey.

The woman needed to be brought to heel.

He rested his hands on his desk. “That just means we have to deal with her swiftly. Before Broussard can start digging.”

“What does that mean?” Gaffney asked, still belligerent. “Dealing with her? I thought we didn’t want to kill her.”

“We don’t.” Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

He didn’t like murder. It was too messy.

Invited too much attention. Murder was what had gotten Cresswell incarcerated, after all.

“Clearly she didn’t believe you meant business regarding her son.

Pick the kid up this afternoon, after school.

He’s not due to go to his mother’s house this week.

Where is he likely to go? Will he go home, to his father’s house? ”

“He doesn’t usually go straight home, regardless of which house he’s going to. He’ll either go to one of his friends’ houses or the girl’s house.”

Because of course there was a girl. Boys Everett Haywood’s age always had a girl in the picture.

“Grab the kid and drive him around the block a few times. Blindfold him. Tie his hands. Take his phone. Give him a scare, then let him out only far enough away that he can still walk home. Count on Broussard having someone watching the boy, though. Don’t get caught, and don’t let him see your face. ”

Gaffney lifted his chin. “Don’t patronize me.”

He smiled tightly. “Don’t fuck this one up.”

Gaffney clenched his teeth. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am. But I’m the asshole who manages the cash. Speaking of cash, Broussard will find the bank accounts. We need to close them out. Freddie opened them, she’ll have to close them.”

Gaffney nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“As soon as possible,” he stressed.

“ Fine. I said I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Because he was already late for his next meeting, which was clear across town. Unfortunately, he’d have to be even later because there were still several details to attend to.

He was thinking ahead, reorganizing all the plan Bs he’d developed in the event Broussard became involved. He’d been studying Broussard for a while. He knew exactly how to get the PI to back off.

Gaffney scowled at him. “Yeah, what are you going to be doing?”

He might not like murder, but he found himself fantasizing about it a lot more often now that he had to manage Gaffney.

That Gaffney hadn’t already been arrested by NOPD was merely testament to the strength of the alliances they’d made. Cresswell and I.

“One, I’ll be reminding Cresswell to remain quiet.”

Gaffney scoffed. “He’s in solitary. Who’s he gonna talk to?”

He just looked at Gaffney, saying nothing. Finally, the man rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” Gaffney said. “But his reach is severely limited.”

“On that we can agree.”

“How are you going to remind him, then? It’s not like you can visit him without the entire state knowing about it.”

“Did you really think I haven’t been monitoring him daily? That I’d just leave him to talk to whoever he wanted? I have people inside.”

Gaffney looked reluctantly impressed. “Well, that’s good. I wondered why he hadn’t caved yet.”

“Better hope he doesn’t,” he said ominously.

If Cresswell talked, they were all toast.

Gaffney shrugged. “He knows his family is forfeit if he does.”

“I don’t depend on Cresswell’s devotion to his wife and kids. So I remind him every now and then.”

Daily. Like clockwork.

Because I am organized. Unlike the detective slouched in the chair in front of him.

“And the second thing?” Gaffney asked. “You said Cresswell was ‘one.’ I assume there’s something else.”

“I’m going to have that package delivered to Miss Cranston.”

“How?”

“Not your concern. You focus on the kid. I’ll take care of his mother.”

“Okay.” Gaffney rose and straightened his suit coat. “I have to get to my desk now or the new captain will nag. Keep me up to speed and I’ll do the same.”

As if they were partners. “Will do.”

He waited until Gaffney was gone, then said quietly, “You can come in now.”

Wayne Stanley entered and sat in the chair that Gaffney had vacated and waited, pen poised. His assistant was ruthlessly efficient.

“I assume you heard everything.”

Stanley nodded. “I listened, just as you instructed.”

“Good. We need to distract Broussard.”

“Understood. You’d like me to put plan B into motion.”

“I would. I think if you wait outside the Kristiansen woman’s flower shop, you’ll be able to access the vehicle of at least one of Broussard’s people. More, if we’re lucky.”

“Speaking of luck, you need to get out of here. It’s going to take you significantly longer to get to the warehouse, considering the traffic.”

He locked up his desk. “At least the Delgados can’t start without me. Do you have the files on the new inventory?”

“I’ve sent them to your phone. I think you’ll be pleased with the additions. Freddie and Elaine have really outdone themselves. I do believe we’re fully stocked for this weekend.”

When the big parades took place. The city would be flooded with more than a million tourists by the weekend. Tourists who’d be looking to party.

He had exactly what they’d be wanting.

“Good to hear.” At least something was going right. “Once I’ve met with Elaine, I’ll send her over to you. You’ll need another pair of hands to get started on plan B.”

Stanley saluted. “Distract Broussard. And if that doesn’t work? If he gets too close?”

“Then we’ll move along the alphabet.”

Plan Z would be their last resort, because he really did dislike murder.