Page 51 of Southernmost Murder
And it just so happens that stealing an item of cultural significance from a museum was afederaloffense. Hmm. I’d be damned. Here I was, sitting right beside a federal agent too.
“Peg,” Curtis tried again. “You’re offending Aubrey.”
“No, I—” I was cut off by Josh.
“I thinkAubreybest leave anyway. Our friend is dead, and he’s pegged Lou a common criminal.” He pointed at Jun. “Take this fuck with you too.”
“Josh!” Curtis shouted.
“No, it’s fine,” Jun said, finally speaking. He slowly stood, taking a moment to grab one last sip of beer and rub it in Josh’s face that he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “You all have a pleasant afternoon.”
I hopped down from the chair, watching Jun make for the door. “By the way,” I said, grabbing my hat before looking at Josh. “He’s FBI. You may want to not be such an asshole in the future.”
Josh’s face paled and he glanced at his buddies.
Seeing him finally at a loss for words felt really damn good. “Uh-huh. See ya.” I walked out and joined Jun on the sidewalk. “Sorry about that.”
He looked down. “Why are you sorry?”
I shrugged. “Well, I know Josh won’t apologize for being a cock… so….”
Jun smiled slightly and put his arm around my shoulders, squeezing.
I put my hat on and tilted the brim back to look at Jun. “Captain Roger’s diary,” I began. “Did you know it was reported as stolen from a museum last year?”
He raised a perfect eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Doesn’t the FBI look into museum theft?” I asked in a playful tone.
“That they do.”
“And if he broke into my museum with the possible intent to take something,” I continued, “isn’t it conceivable he has more than a stolen diary in his possession?”
Jun looked thoughtful before he moved his arm, pulled out his wallet, and chose a card. He took his phone out of his other pocket and dialed the number. “Detective Tillman?”
I put my hands on my hips. Jun was such a sneaky bastard.
“Agent Tanaka. I’d like to set aside some time to speak with you today about Lou Cassidy.”
Chapter Nine
“BUT WHYdo you think he agreed to talk with you?” I asked Jun. I paid the cashier in the shop we’d ducked into so I could buy some candy before I imploded and tackled the nearest person on the street to steal their cigarettes. “Do you think he found stolen artifacts at Cassidy’s home and knows the FBI has jurisdiction?”
“I doubt that’s the case,” Jun said, holding the door open for me as we walked out. “But local law enforcement tends to listen when we pull theagentcard.”
“But the FBI can look into Cassidy now, if they wanted?”
“The Art Crime Team would likely want to, yes,” Jun answered. “And if it boils down to me having to make phone calls to get Tillman’s cooperation, I know an agent in Miami on the team that might be able to help.”
I stopped walking. “Not… Matt or—”
“No.” Jun crossed his arms. “Matt’s still with Organized Crime. He took a transfer to Boston.”
My shoulders loosened. “Okay. Good. I had to check.” I ripped open a bag of Skittles, a few falling to the ground and bouncing across the sidewalk. “Crap.”
“Come on, Indy.” Jun led the way back to the rental car, and we got in.
I put the hat, which I was now likely to never live down, in the back seat before offering Jun some candy. “I took pictures of Cassidy’s displays in the museum.”
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