Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

Justin knew she was lying but he wasn’t ready to say so to her face yet. He fished a card from his pocket. “I’ll tell you what, come down to the precinct at four this afternoon. We’ll have some photos we’d like you to go through, see if you recognize anyone.”

Her shoulders dropped as if he’d trapped her into a date to the prom. “I doubt I’m going to be able to tell you much of anything. I rarely hang out with Cosmo these days.”

“That’s all right. Between you and your sisters, maybe you’ll come up with something we need.”

Iris tilted her head to eye him suspiciously. “What sisters?”

“Your two stepsisters or half sisters or whatever. You know, Cosmo’s other daughters.”

Her nervousness reappeared, softening the planes of her face. Distrust-and fear-glinted in her eyes. “You’ve got it wrong, Detective. I’m an only child.”

Stupid ass notion to bring the rabbit home after last night.

Mickey watched Edgar flop his way toward the bowl of water on the torn linoleum. What, was he supposed to hold the animal for ransom? Place a classified in the paper? Cosmo, bring me the jewels or the bunny gets it. Like the old charlatan gave a damn about endangering others.

“Not that I’m sworn to protect you, but if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll both survive this weekend.” He finished stacking ham and swiss on a kaiser roll and took a hearty bite while the rabbit watched him, nose twitching.

“You hungry?” Hunkering down, Mickey tugged a lettuce leaf from his sandwich and held it out, knowing the rabbit hadn’t had anything to eat in over twelve hours.

Edgar blinked but didn’t approach.

Recalling how fast the animal could attack, Mickey dropped the leaf, then pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and used it to push the offering toward the rabbit.

Edgar shifted away from him.

“What? Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to shoot you any more than I was going to shoot Cosmo.”

His mother would faint at the thought of him killing a defenseless rabbit in his kitchen. But then, if she had any idea he’d gone undercover to capture a Las Vegas hit man, she’d swoon into a full coma. She and Dad thought their son was on loan in Chicago doing SWAT team training. Instead he was chasing a crackpot magician with more schemes than Wile E. Coyote up his ass, trying to lay hands on some jewels and flush out the man who’d hired all the hits.

He exhaled his frustration and rubbed a hand along the base of his neck where another headache was forming. Standing, he chewed another mouthful.

Edgar took two hops forward to sniff the lettuce. But instead of eating, he reared on his back feet, eyes bright. His ears rose straight up and swiveled, almost as if he were listening.

Alerted, Mickey abandoned his sandwich. Pulling the gun against his chest, he looked over his shoulder. The merest movement of a shadow outside the window made him dart for the wall beside the door. A split second later, someone kicked in the door, bursting its flimsy lock and splintering the frame. August heat wafted in along with his intruders.

Small and wiry as a weasel, Jock slunk through the bent door opening, as always leading with his gun in his outstretched hand.

Mickey took him out with a quick punch to the stomach that doubled him over, coughing.

Pebbles eclipsed the opening, filling the space with two hundred eighty pounds of brawn and fat. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Mickey had a healthy respect for any man who could win a fight by sitting on his opponent. The bald-pated giant grinned. “Didn’t know you were home, Mickey.”

“Yeah? You come by to trash my place while you thought I was out?”

One hand still pressed to his side, Jock straightened. “We needed to check on you. You didn’t come in last night.”

Mickey heaved a sigh of unconcern and stuffed his gun back in his waistband. Jock and Pebbles made the most unlikely pair of thugs he’d ever met, but he’d learned to be wary of their methods. Bullies from the playground-maybe even infancy-they didn’t believe in rules or fair play. Nice when a couple guys could fall into a career made for them.

“I called Turner last night and told him I had Cosmo. You guys don’t need to worry about me. I know where the stones are, and I’ll have them in my hands in two days, maybe a bit less.”

“Where are they?” Jock brushed a hand down his tie, apparently feeling better enough to worry about his appearance.

“Ah ah ah, if I told you, what kind of insurance would I have that I’ll get paid for my part in all this?”

Pebbles scratched his scalp. Its bumpy surface must have led to his nickname. “Whatcha do with Cosmo?”

Mickey tilted his head toward the door and the parking lot below and lied. “He’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Dead or alive?” Jock asked with interest.

“Seeing as it topped a hundred and ten out there this afternoon, I’d say he’s definitely dead by now.” Mickey yawned. “Go look, if you want, just don’t let anyone see you. You guys want a beer?”

The partners shared a look. Jock shook his head, his eyes crinkling with respect and maybe a little macabre delight. He’d never liked Cosmo. “You’ll get rid of the body so no one finds it?”

“Trust me.” Hell, even he couldn’t find Cosmo right now.

“The dead guy in Cosmo’s car was a nice touch. When did you think of that?”

Mickey opened a cupboard to pull out a coffee can, the hairs on the back of his neck telling him that neither of his guests was making any move to approach him. At least now he knew Jock and Pebbles hadn’t planted the body he’d found in Cosmo’s car when he’d checked it again at four in the morning. “Yeah, I thought it would make it look more like Cosmo wanted to disappear, buy us some time.”

Jock chuckled. “Okay, you get points for that, but Turner is pissed you didn’t follow orders and bring him Cosmo last night.”

“It took me awhile to get the answers I needed-”

“Hey, what’s that?” Pebbles motioned with his gun toward the kitchen.

Edgar hopped from the linoleum onto the drab olive carpet and sniffed with disdain at what clearly wasn’t grass.

“It’s a bunny,” Pebbles said with the same delight he’d greet a monster truck rally.

Jock grinned with a flash of two gold teeth. “I never pegged you for an animal lover, Mickey.”

“It’s Cosmo’s rabbit from the act.”

“Looks like the little bunny’s out of a job.” Jock watched it sniff at his shoelaces, then nudged it away when it started to nibble his pant leg. Edgar hopped under the dining table and pooped.

Pebbles laughed. “Can I have him?”

For a second Mickey considered it, but these were the kind of guys who followed bugs around on a hot day with a magnifying glass just to see if they’d really explode. Even Edgar didn’t deserve that. “No, I’m trading him for the stones.”

The smell of urine wafted to him. From his hideout under the table, Edgar blinked a couple times.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Jock shook his head with a fiendish grin. “He’s pissing on your carpet.”

“Whatever.” Mickey hooked a thumb at the broken door. “Not like I’m getting my deposit back.”

He felt rather than heard Pebbles creep up behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jock nod once. And then his head exploded with pain, his knees buckled and he found himself nose down on the carpet. Pebbles had probably done a stint on WrestleMania when he was younger-he sure knew which vertebrae to press with his knee to keep a guy lying flat.

Jock’s shoes approached, stopping inches from his nose. “You’ve got ’til tomorrow night to bring the jewels, or you’ll be the one stuffed in a trunk. Got it?”