Blood Money Read Online Free

hands. "What took you so long?"
    "We just got into town."
    "Well, you might as well have a seat," the chief said. He indicated a chair in front of the desk.
    "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the shooting?"
    Peterson laughed out loud and shook his head. "Matter of fact, I was just going to call your dad and tell him about this."
    "So you also think this has something to do with Moran's will?" Frank leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the police report on the shooting, which lay open on the desk. Poletti's record was the top sheet of the file.
    "No, I think this has nothing to do with the will," Peterson replied.
    "But I thought you said - "
    "I was going to tell your dad not to worry when he read about this. As far as we can tell, this is a case of jealousy. Two men fighting over the same girl."
    "The papers thought that it might be the start of a gang war," Frank said.
    Peterson pursed his lips. "I don't think so. Poletti's only involvement with the Moran crime family seems to be with Emily."
    Frank nodded. "The papers also said you hadn't charged him with anything yet."
    "That's true," the chief said. "But Lewis and I are hoping he'll confess - the evidence is pretty convincing."
    "I don't know," Frank said slowly. "I just can't see Poletti killing Carew - "
    "Why? Because he's a former Heisman winner? A lot of things could have happened to him since then. We don't really know anything about him," Peterson said.
    Frank nodded a little sheepishly.
    Just then, a bell began ringing outside in the hall. Frank raised his eyebrows. "What's that?" he asked.
    "That," Peterson said, standing up, "is the coffee cart - more popularly known around here as the 'roach coach.' " He smiled at Frank. "Come on - I'll buy you a soda."
    Frank rose and followed him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to eat anything from a "roach coach."
    ***
    "How could anyone get locked inside a closet - inside a police station?" Emily asked.
    "I don't know if it is a 'someone,' " Lewis said, shaking his head. He rapped the door sharply with his knuckles, then stood for a moment with his ear pressed to the door, listening. "But something's in there, all right. I'll see if I can find some keys." He disappeared down the hall.
    "Hang on!" Joe yelled at the door. "We'll have you out of there in a second!"
    In fact, it took more than five minutes for Lewis to return. All the time Joe and Emily Moran stood, listening to the muffled thumping on the other side of the locked door.
    Finally Lewis arrived with a ring of keys about the size of a softball; the fifth key opened the door.
    A man, hands and feet bound behind his back and a gag stuffed into his mouth, lay on his stomach next to the door.
    Lewis rolled him over.
    "It's Ed!" Lewis said, bending down and undoing the man's gag. Joe helped Lewis untie the man's bonds and get him into a sitting position. The man began taking in huge gulps of air.
    "Take it easy," Lewis said, kneeling down by him. "Are you all right?"
    "What happened?" Joe asked.
    "Beats me," Ed said, his words punctuated by faint gasps. "I was coming out of the service elevator when I hear this noise behind me. Next thing I know, I'm lying in this closet all tied up - with a whopper of a headache. Somebody thumped me over the head but good!"
    Lewis looked puzzled. "What would anyone want to knock you out for?" he asked, shaking his head.
    "What do you do around here?" Joe asked, kneeling down next to Ed.
    "Him?" Lewis spoke first, before Ed could answer. "He's from the food service company. Runs the coffee cart."
    ***
    "What can I get you today?"
    The coffee cart, Frank saw, was similar to the pushcarts that were rolled up and down the aisles of airplanes. This one had sandwiches and an assortment of beverages and snacks.
    "Where's Ed?" Chief Peterson asked.
    "Oh - he called in sick today," the man pushing the cart said. He was a couple of inches shorter and a few years older than Chief Peterson, with graying hair that hung almost to his