Fallen Angels by Connie Dial Read Free Book Online

needed that.”
    She smiled but didn’t ask the question she was aching to spring on him: What the hell’s wrong with you? Unfortunately, before he could open that door or volunteer any personal information, Councilwoman Fletcher was off her stool and hovering over their table.
    “Captain Corsino,” Fletcher said, and held out her chubby hand to Josie. “Thanks, Sammy,” she bellowed, waving her other hand at the cook standing across the room. The old guy ignored her and slipped into the back room. Fletcher was probably in her forties, but had an old lady appearance with her henna-colored hair cut just below her ears and curled under at the ends, and her dark matronly business suit.
    “Councilwoman,” Josie said, smiling. “Detective Behan, my homicide supervisor,” she added, pointing at Behan.
    Fletcher reached down and grabbed the detective’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said. “How’s the Dennis investigation going?” she asked, and pulled an empty chair from the table behind them. She moved it beside Behan and settled her considerable bulk without an invitation. Her preppie-looking aide, who never did get an introduction, stood, clipboard in hand, leaning against the counter. “I know Eli Goldman is terrified his son might be involved,” Fletcher said. She tried to sound concerned, but Josie caught just the slightest trace of a smile cross the woman’s plump face.
    Before her election, Fletcher was a vocal left-wing liberal; but during her first year on the council, she’d proven to be one of Josie’s strongest supporters . . . most of the time. It wasn’t friendship, but Josie and the councilwoman had a solid and respectful working relationship.
    “It’s not my investigation anymore,” Behan said.
    Fletcher turned to Josie. “Why not? I thought the girl died in Hollywood.”
    “Deputy Chief Bright gave the case to RHD,” Behan said, before Josie could think of an answer that would offer her boss some protection. She didn’t like Bright, but generally felt an obligation to shield the rank above her.
    Josie glared at Behan. She knew what he was doing. It was common knowledge Eli Goldman and Fletcher didn’t get along. They never fought in public, but behind the scenes there were rumors of threats and backstabbing recriminations. Behan was a master at pushing people’s buttons. He had to know Fletcher would suspect Goldman’s hand in the investigation’s abrupt transfer to RHD, a move which meant greater oversight and control by the chief of police, who also happened to be Eli Goldman’s good friend.
    The aide whispered something in Fletcher’s ear; she nodded, and he faded back to the counter.
    “I’ve got a meeting,” Fletcher said, grunting as she used everything within reach to get herself back on her feet. “I am not pleased with this. It doesn’t pass the smell test.” She turned to leave, stopped, came back and challenged Josie. “Did you agree with the decision to pass this investigation to RHD?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
    Damn you, Behan, Josie thought, and said, “Actually, I wasn’t given a vote or I would’ve kept it.”
    They were gone, the councilwoman and her Sancho Panza on a mission to the civic center to hack down a few political windmills in the City of the Angels.
    After several seconds of painful silence, Behan put his hand over his mouth and said, “Oops.”
    “I should’ve let you starve to death,” Josie whispered.
    “Come on, I want the case back; you want it back; RHD wants to give it back, so everybody’s happy.”
    “Everybody except that deputy chief guy who can transfer my ass to Jail division for the rest of my career.”
    “They’re not gonna know it was you.”
    “It wasn’t me,” Josie said, tossing twenty dollars on the table. “It was my big-mouthed, conniving D-III.” She actually wasn’t all that angry, which surprised her. There would be some questions, but she hadn’t initiated anything. Councilwoman Fletcher