Hot Schemes by Sherryl Woods Read Free Book Online Page A

press why one of your best homicide detectives was forced into early retirement. And forget about any hogwash about a medical disability stemming from this damned explosion. When I’m finished with this investigation, I will transfer into the Miami PD, which has been begging me to do just that for the past ten years, and I will look for every opportunity to make you regret this whole lousy episode.”
    Petty backed up and threw his hands in the air. “Jesus, O’Hara, you know it’s bad news taking on an investigation in which you’re emotionally involved.”
    “You don’t have the time or the manpower to give this case the attention it deserves,” Michael countered. “Nobody will care more than I do about seeing that it’s solved.”
    Lucas Petty cast his gaze heavenward. Judging from his sour expression when he finally looked back at Michael, he hadn’t received any divine inspiration. “Okay, okay, you win. Take your leave. How much time do you want?”
    “As long as it takes.”
    “Terrific. Your fellow officers in homicide will be pleased to take over your work load, I’m sure.”
    Michael glared at him. “Don’t you try to lay a guilt trip on me. I’ve carried more than my share of work for my entire fifteen years in the department.”
    Lucas Petty heaved a sigh of resignation. “Yeah, you have. Okay, O’Hara, do what you have to do. Be careful, though. This bombing thing tonight wasn’t some amateur prank.” He held out his hand and shook Michael’s. His expression softened. “I’m glad you’re okay, son.” He looked at Marshall and Domínguez. “You guys coming?”
    They glanced at Michael, who shook his head.
    “Not just yet, boss,” Marshall replied.
    The public safety director’s eyes narrowed. “You two aren’t on leave. Remember that.”
    “Yes, sir,” Marshall replied, his cheeks flushing with a patch of guilty color.
    Domínguez just avoided his gaze.
    Petty looked as if he wanted to launch into another lecture, but eventually he just shook his head, muttered something under his breath about maverick cops, and left them alone.
    “What do you want us to do?” Felipe Domínguez asked as soon as their boss was gone.
    “Ask around on the street, Felipe. I know you have contacts. See what’s going on with some of these anti-Castro paramilitary groups. Kenny, when they bring in the remains of the boat, I want you to go over every piece of evidence and tell me exactly what you find. I need to know where to start looking for the people who made that bomb.”
    Ken Marshall shook his head in disgust. “Exactly how many parts of that bomb do you expect to be recovered from the goddamn bay?”
    “One would be enough, if it’s the right one, one we can trace.”
    Domínguez shot him a grin. “Man, you watch too many cop shows on TV. Either that or you’ve got the soul of some romantic Cuban poet living in a dream world.”
    Michael grinned back. “I just know what fine, dedicated police officers can come up with when they put their minds to it.”
    “Oh, man, the pressure,” Marshall groaned, but he, too, was grinning now, clearly relieved that Michael was back to his usual bossy behavior, acting as if that explosion had never happened. “You know, O’Hara, one of these days you’re going to run the whole damned department.You know exactly how to motivate people.”
    “Right, pizza and beer at my place at the end of your long, productive days. See you tonight about seven thirty?”
    “Tonight?” Domínguez said. “You expect answers tonight?”
    “Let’s face it, some group out there is going to be very proud of what it did. Most likely they won’t be quiet about their accomplishment. My guess is there will be some trumped-up story about Miguel’s loyalty to the cause. As for the evidence, if it isn’t in the lab today, chances are Kenny’s right and it’s buried in the muck at the bottom of Biscayne Bay.”
    •   •   •
    To Molly’s astonishment, Michael