Box Nine by Jack O'Connell Read Free Book Online Page A

not.
    â€œThe Swanns were working on advanced drug therapy for treatment of what is termed ‘language delayed’ children.”
    Lehmann rolls his eyes.
    â€œSounds a little off your beat,” Lenore says.
    Lehmann shrugs, still looking at Woo, trying to make it clear that he screwed up, that he’ll let him know when it’s his turn to speak. “Like everything else it was strictly accidental. The FBI was doing some standard mob-sitting down San Remo Ave. Had a wire on a midlevel errand boy of Gennaro Pecci. Gennaro and his men go to dinner one night down Fiorello’s Restaurant.”
    Lenore can’t help but look over at Zarelli, who’s staring, unblinking, at Lehmann.
    â€œAnd who are the Don’s dinner guests but the Drs. Swann.”
    Richmond states the obvious for everyone. “Unusual pairing.”
    Lehmann gives an indulgent smile back at him and goes on. “The wire gave us nothing. They didn’t discuss a damn thing of interest. The weather. Recent vacations. Local politics.”
    Mayor Welby snaps into a practiced smile and says, “Should I call a lawyer, Al?”
    â€œEveryone agrees it was a size-’em-up meet. Both parties get a chance to feel each other out. Make an introduction. Establish contacts. Once the bureau got confirmation on the identity of the Swanns, they called us.”
    â€œYou think the Swanns were considering a mid-life career change,” Peirce says.
    â€œOr at least a new sideline. There’s definitely a precedent for chemical whiz kids like Leo and Inez turning a good dollar by leasing themselves out.”
    â€œMob chemists,” the lieutenant says.
    Lehmann nods. “Big demand for synthetic kicks lately. Big upswing. I’ve got the numbers. More controllable than run-of-the-mill organic crap. No importation problems. Chemical coke. Supertranqs, designer things.”
    â€œI’m just saying,” Miskewitz says, “two Ivy League yuppies from Windsor Hills seem like a little stretch.”
    Lehmann gets annoyed. “Today’s labs, Lieutenant, are a hell of a lot more complicated than they were just three years back. But more importantly, it’s unlikely the Swanns were dining at Fiorello’s for the lasagna.”
    It’s a line that would only come out of the TV and Lenore hates Lehmann for saying it. But Miskewitz shuts up and Lehmann goes on.
    â€œA month after the dinner meeting with Pecci, the Swanns resign their positions at the Institute. There were a lot of bad feelings. A lot of interoffice politics. A lot of fighting over grant money and allocations. The Swanns broke off and rented office space at the new industrial park up near the airport.”
    â€œPlace is a ghost town,” Richmond says. “Developer’s supposed to go Chapter Eleven any day now.”
    â€œI don’t think Leo and Inez were too interested in neighbors. They set up shop as consultants. They tried to make contacts with the bigger pharmaceutical boys. They called themselves Synaboost Inc.”
    â€œYou’re saying,” Zarelli tries, “that they were going through the motions. That the real contact was down San Remo with Pecci and family.”
    Lehmann ignores him for some reason. “Anything bother you about those photos?” he asks the table in general.
    Lenore tosses her photo back onto the original pile and says, in a bland, bored voice, “Nobody’s throat is cut.”
    Richmond sits up in his chair and looks toward Miskewitz. “I swear homicide said a cut throat. I had lunch with Berkman. ‘Cut throat,’ he says.”
    â€œSome facts about the Swann case,” Mayor Welby says, “have been altered.”
    â€œWithin the department?” Richmond says, showing too much concern. Lenore feels like sliding a note to him that reads, Shut up now.
    â€œBoth bodies,” Lehmann says, “were found hanging. The housecleaner called police