Free Body Copy by Michael Craven Page A

something else.”
    “That’s why you make the big bucks, Tremaine.”
    “Like I said, I’m getting dinner.” Tremaine continued,
    “And if he is worried about something else, maybe I can confuse him into telling me something about Roger Gale before he figures out what exactly I’m going for.”
    Lopez grinned. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
    “I’d appreciate it.”
    “Guy’s been to rehab a few times. Probably into drugs and running a little paranoid.”
    “Good to know.”
    “This next piece of information, well, it’s confidential.”
    With that, Tremaine flagged down the waitress.
    “What do you need, boys?” she said.
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    “Get this gentleman a scotch on the rocks, top-shelf.”
    “My pleasure.”
    The waitress scurried off.
    “Go on,” Tremaine said.
    “Tyler Wilkes made a huge investment in a cement company called L.A. Stone. This was after the Roger Gale investigation went cold. Here’s the thing. A guy named Paul Spinelli started the company.”
    “Don’t know the name.”
    “He’s a guy we’ve suspected—we know—is involved in a tremendous amount of organized crime.”
    “How involved?”
    “Very. He runs the show. He’s the head guy.”
    “Family?”
    “Not by blood. It’s just an organization. And he’s at the top. But for all the same reasons we always have trouble with these fucks, we’ve never been able to prove it.”
    “Tell me more about L.A. Stone.”
    “It’s a real company and a total bullshit company all at once. Spinelli is connected to lots of the builders around town. So, knowing that, he creates a real cement company, hires some people who actually know what they’re doing to run it, and then seizes all the business he can. Most of his employees just think they’re working for the most successful company in town. Little do they know, the mob is arranging all the contracts they get. Other companies go through the bidding process, but L.A. Stone has a certain knack for obtaining business.”
    “So you don’t know whether or not Tyler Wilkes has any knowledge of what he’s into?”
    “No one knows and no one cares. Regarding this issue, 79
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    no one is concerned with Tyler Wilkes. He’s a pawn. But the reality is, Paul Spinelli approached Wilkes with a win-win business proposal. And Paul Spinelli, when you see him, when you look at him, he’s scary. He’s shady. You can tell. I’d bet a lot of money Wilkes has some suspicions of his own. He may even know exactly what’s up. That he’s in bed with some serious people. Either way, your having that information could frighten him a little bit, keep him off balance.”
    “Let me ask you this,” Tremaine said. “How scary is Spinelli? How scared would Tyler be if he thought he’d pissed off Spinelli?”
    “Very,” Lopez said. “They call Spinelli the Shark. For three reasons. One, he goes after business like a shark.
    Two, he’s always moving. And three, he kills with no re-morse.”
    “Well then,” Tremaine said, “that’s the perfect nickname for him.”
    “Yeah, it is.”
    Tremaine looked at Lopez.
    “What?” Lopez said.
    “You parting with this confidential information? Lemme guess, some of the higher-ups down at the old station house are involved in this whole bullshit and are intentionally making it difficult to make a bust. And it’s pissing you off.”
    “You said it, not me.”
    “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” Tremaine said.
    Lopez didn’t respond. He just downed his top-shelf scotch on the rocks.
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    C H A P T E R 1 3
    Tremaine’s hangover, from his night with Lopez, made the Jumble slow-going. He sat there, at his desk in the trailer, big cup of coffee, medicine, sitting never too far away. The words were: myait, dahyn, cabeem, and boedul. The riddle was What the hairdresser did when the rack of clothes went on sale. He “_ _ _ _ _ _ _” _ _ _ _.
    It took him almost three minutes to turn myait into amity, dahyn into handy,