Free Other Than Murder by John Lutz Page A

organized crime in New York, enjoyed not denying complicity in Brendan’s death by gunshot four days ago. “The whiskey’s for you to drink in good health,” he said, feeling as if he might leap across the desk and begin pounding on Malvin.
    “And why would you be bearing such a gift?” Malvin asked.
    “My brother was working undercover, gathering evidence so the police could roll up your operations and put you away for life. And it would be a life sentence this time if drugs were found in or around you.”
    Malvin shrugged. “I don’t do drugs.”
    Quinn drew a folded brown envelope from his overcoat pocket, the sudden movement making Malvin blink if not flinch, and laid it on the desk corner.
    “Would this be another peace offering?”
    “My brother’s notes. There’s enough in them to make life uncomfortable for you, maybe even put you behind bars.”
    “ Maybe’ s a big word.”
    “Isn’t it, now?”
    Malvin sighed and absently reached back to place the whiskey bottle, still in its bag, on a shelf behind his desk. He settled deeper into his padded swivel chair, facing Quinn directly. “Let me get this straight now, son. Somebody killed your brother—“
    “Brendan.”
    “Okay, Brendan. This was because he was an NYPD undercover detective who infiltrated my operations and was going to give me to the law. Now here you are handing me his notes and talking some kind of truce. Seems to me you’d hate my guts, if you really thought I did Brendan, and you wouldn’t be thinking of any kind of truce. So what’s the deal?”
    “A trade.”
    “Ah! Young as you are, you’ve figured life out.”
    “Those are Brendan’s original notes, and there are no copies. Now you have them. Destroy them--whatever you want--and you’re safe.”
    “So why didn’t you give them to the cops?”
    “There’s nothing conclusive there. You’d be charged, for sure, but you’d beat the serious stuff in court, maybe only do a couple of years.”
    “I’ve got the best lawyers,” Malvin said.
    “But you knew about the notes, and you were worried.”
    “I’ll concede that. And now that I have them and I’m not worried, what is it you expect in return. Your safety?”
    “I have another brother,” Quinn said. “I want him left alone.”
    “His name is Colin,” Malvin said. “Your mother died in a car accident some years ago. And your father was a New York cop killed in the line of duty.”
    “I guess you came across that information learning about Brendan,” Quinn said.
    “Guess away. The thing is, I know. And more than you might think. So there’s just you and Colin now. Your little brother, three years younger, so you feel a responsibility.”
    “That’s right. I feel a responsibility.”
    “You and Colin, don’t you ever think of carrying on the family tradition and joining the police?”
    Quinn smiled crookedly and sadly. “After what happened to our father and Brendan, no thanks. It’s not the kind of thing we’d want to make a family tradition.”
    “So you two are from the smart side of the family.”
    “That’s what we’re trying to be now.”
    “I haven’t the slightest motive to harm either of you,” Malvin said.
    “That’s the truth of it,” Quinn said. “Now that you’ve got Brendan’s notes, there’s no reason. You can’t be touched by the law.”
    Malvin leaned back in his desk chair and studied Quinn. “But if it was my brother I thought you killed–“
    “You’d think about it like me and do the smart thing,” Quinn interrupted. “Nothing can bring Brendan back. He lost the game he was playing. But Colin isn’t in that game, and neither am I. And we never plan on playing it. In return for the notes, I want you to leave Colin alone.”
    “And you?”
    “I’ll take my chances.”
    “That means you’ll take my word.”
    “I understand it’s good, despite some of your other character flaws.”
    Malvin stood up. He was almost as big as Quinn. He offered his