Cold Hit | Chapter 7 of 7 - Part: 1 of 33

Author: Stephen J. Cannell | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 1187 Views | Add a Review

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I looked at the guilt in her eyes. That's why she cried when Cindy questioned her. Martin had been at the gas station because of her. She felt guilty about his death, but could do nothing without risking the lives of her sister's children.

"Who were they, Mrs. Litvenko? Who killed your husband and your nephew?"

"No. They will kill my grandnieces."

"You give me their names and I will see that they all get protection."

I held her hand again. "This has gone on long enough. Only you can make it stop."

The tears started flowing again. I stayed beside her until she was finished crying. After a few more minutes, she had no more tears.

"Please, Mrs. Livenko," I pleaded. "It's time to finish this."

"Nyet," she whispered.

Chapter 48

I called Tampa and talked to the chief of police there," Alexa said. "You were right. Zack had some problems."

We were standing out on the deck of the safe house. The evening sun was just setting behind a dense wall of brush in the overgrown canyon; sliding below the hills, shining gold on the limbs of a nearby stand of white eucalyptus. Broadway and Perry were in the kitchen opening beers and preparing a plate of crackers and dip.

"What kinds of problems?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"The chief wouldn't unseal his juvie record, but he remembered the worst of it. A lot of fights, half a dozen D and Ds."

D and Ds were drunk and disorderly arrests. My own juvie record was three times worse.

"Anything else?"

"Nothing the chief could remember. If he was killing dogs or beating up classmates, it didn't make it to the booking cage." She reached into her purse and retrieved some temporary credentials with my name attached. "Here. I figured you'd need these until Personnel gets your new ones made."

I put them in my pocket without looking at them. No cop likes to lose his badge. It was embarrassing.

Perry brought out the hors d'oeuvre plate and set it on the table with a flourish. It contained a three-by-twoinch block of something covered in brown goo with crackers arranged around the edges.

"I hope that didn't come out of the toilet," I said skeptically.

"This here ain't some possum I scraped up off the highway, Joe Bob. What we got here is a quarter pound a cream cheese with A-1 Sauce. Prime hillbilly cooking."

"I think I'll pass," I said.

Broadway came out on the deck, balancing a tray with beers and four glasses he'd found in the kitchen. All this party formality was because it had finally occurred to these two dingbats that Alexa could actually enhance their careers. As if cold beer and cream cheese would zip them right up onto the Lieutenant's List.

After the Heinekens were poured, Alexa opened her briefcase and pulled out some folders.

"This is everything from the Russian organized crime databank on the Odessa mob," she said. "The guys who seem to be currently in charge are the Petrovitch brothers. Samoyla and Igor. They're both foreign nationals here on long-term visas. Neither of these guys has a wife or family, but that's pretty standard. Members of the Russian mafia are prohibited by their criminal code from getting married, seeing or talking to relatives, or even working for a living." "They're celibate?" I asked, surprised.

"They can have girlfriends, but no children," she responded. "They brought a strict thieves' code over from Odessa. It's all pretty desperate stuff. Never work, never marry. Never, under pain of death, give truthful information to police. And my own personal favorite; sit in on trials and convocations and be willing to personally carry out all death sentences."

"Nice," I muttered.


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Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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