Free Bullseye by Virginia Smith

unbelievable occurred and Mason had been put on administrative leave while he was investigated for his own wife’s murder, he’d gone into full investigation mode on his own. And everywhere he’d turned, one name kept cropping up. Russell Maddox. Parker, his old partner, had said it was just coincidence because the guy seemed to own half the city. But even though Mason’s gut instinct had told him the guy was up to no good, he’d never uncovered a shred of evidence to prove it, and that had left a bad taste in his mouth that hadn’t cleared in the past four years.
    The waiter approached, a dark-skinned kid with straight black hair and Hispanic features. He set a bowl of tortilla chips and a dish of runny salsa on the table between them.
    “What can I get you to drink?” Not a trace of accent sounded in his voice.
    “I’m sticking with water,” Mason replied.
    “Something diet, please.” Karina’s gaze rose from her menu. “Was that really Russell Maddox we saw leaving a minute ago?”
    His bored expression barely changed. “Yeah. He comes here a lot.”
    “Really?”
    The kid nodded. “I guess he likes the enchiladas.”
    She grinned. “I’ll bet he leaves a decent-size tip, huh?”
    A shrug and an eye roll. “I never get to wait on him. He and the manager are friends or something. Jorge always takes care of Mr. Maddox personally.”
    He wandered off to get their drinks, and Mason leveled a disgusted glare across the table.
    She returned the look calmly. “Wipe the glare off your face. I’m not impressed with his money. For your information, I have a reason for asking.” She unwrapped the blue paper slip securing her napkin around her utensils.
    She’s going to make me ask. For some reason, that irritated him.
    “So? Are you going to tell me?” he snapped.
    Only when her napkin was smoothed in her lap did she answer. “Several times Alex mentioned seeing Russell Maddox in the store where he works. At the time I thought it was strange that a rich guy like him would shop in a dinky little grocery store like that, but I didn’t give it much thought. But now.” Her head moved as she looked around the room.
    Mason followed her glance. On the inside this place was everything the outside had promised. Clean, but tiny and about as plain as you could get. Eight scarred wooden tables with hard plastic chairs. Fake tile floor scraped by the chair legs. Few attempts at decorations adorned the walls, mostly brightly colored ponchos and a display of cheap straw hats. Certainly nothing to attract the attention of a rich guy like Maddox. And apparently he ate here on a fairly regular basis.
    A kind of sick excitement tickled the base of Mason’s skull. “Those must be some killer enchiladas.”
    The look Karina gave him was full of understanding. “I can hardly wait to try them.”
    Maybe they’d stumbled onto something. If he could pin something on Maddox—anything, even a misdemeanor—that would make this trip worthwhile in Mason’s books. His appetite stirred back to life.
    The waiter returned and set Karina’s soda on the table in front of her. “So do you know what you want?”
    “Enchiladas, definitely,” Mason said, and Karina nodded agreement. As the kid turned to leave, Mason stopped him with a word. “Hey, let me ask you a question. Did you work much with José Garcia?”
    Finally, a reaction on the bored face. The smooth forehead creased, and his eyes darkened with grief. “Yeah. He was a buddy of mine.”
    “Terrible what happened to him.” Mason shook his head in sympathy. “Getting shot by his friend and all.”
    Karina stiffened in her chair, and her mouth opened like she was getting ready to launch a verbal torpedo. He kept his gaze fixed on the server’s face and kicked her under the table.
    The teen’s reaction almost mirrored Karina’s. He seemed to grow a couple of inches taller as his spine stiffened. “They got no proof of that.”
    Mason picked up a straw and peeled the