Free Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 01 - Galveston by Kent Conwell Page B

deal. He had your name on the cover of the phone book, and the telephone records show eight or ten calls to your number.”
    His smile faded from his lips. “Well, maybe we did talk more. Yeah, now that you mention it, we did have several conversations about the diamonds.”
    “Did he tell you who he was hijacking the diamonds from?”
    “Oh, no.” He shook his head emphatically. “There wasn’t no hijacking. The way he talked, a shipment was coming in. I assumed he brokered it. Strictly legit. He needed a buyer.” A sly look slid over his face. “You know, I was wondering about the guy in Philadelphia. That’s when I figured something was crooked. When I got back, I told Cheshire I didn’t want nothing to do with nothing against the law.”
    “He must have given you some time, a date to pass on the fence in Philadelphia.”
    Morrison frowned.
    I explained. “A timeline. Like when could he have the merchandise in Philly.”
    “Oh. No. Nothing like that.”
    He was lying again. What part of his story should I believe? None? Or all? Might as well flip a coin.
    “But, he did tell you about the diamonds?”
    Morrison nodded briefly. “Yeah.”
    I vacillated a moment between asking him the question or keeping quiet. I went with the question. “Would you be willing to tell the police about the diamonds?”
    His eyes grew wide. “Police? But why? What good would that do?”
    “I need proof that Cheshire was dirty. He was smuggling diamonds.”
    Hastily, Morrison backtracked.  “I didn’t say nothing about smuggling. Like I said, it was legit.”
    I leaned forward. “But you also said you told Cheshire you didn’t want to do anything against the law. Now which is it, Morrison? Make up your mind.”
    He frowned, trying to go back and remember just exactly what he had said. “I didn’t mean against the law,” he stammered. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
    “Then what did you mean?”
    He stared at me helplessly. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But not that. I thought it was all legit. That’s what I meant.” 
    I glared at him. I should have known he would crawfish. And even if I subpoenaed him, he’d crawfish. I glanced at my watch. 10:30 p.m.
     
    I climbed in my pickup where Virgil was waiting. I circled the block and parked across the street, banking on Ted Morrison to scoot to whomever was paying him.
    While I waited, I bounced my ideas off Virgil. “After all is said and done,” I added in conclusion. “I’m convinced he was working with Cheshire to fence the smuggled diamonds, but there isn’t enough evidence to even justify a search warrant. And besides, Galveston PD wouldn’t consider anything I requested.”
    “You think him and Cheshire was working for Maranzano?”
    “Could be. When I mentioned Maranzano and Abbandando’s name, he sure got nervous.”
    “What do you make of that?”
    “I think it means we’ve got to keep an eye on both of them.”
    Virgil grunted.
    To my surprise and disappointment, Ted Morrison didn’t leave his room.
     
    At two a.m., we headed back to the motel. The only pleasant thing about an otherwise disappointing and boring evening was that Virgil kept his shoes on.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    I couldn’t sleep.
    Like a catchy tune that sticks in your head, a dozen unanswered questions about Allied Cement kept tumbling over and over in my brain.
    I was convinced it was an Allied truck I had spotted at Berth 21, and I was convinced the footprint in the fresh cement belonged to Cheshire. Fresh cement, a wing-tip shoe, a missing man. I shivered. Was this what had been nagging at me about that night? Was it possible?
    On impulse I rose, dressed, and silently slipped out. As I gently closed the door behind be so as not to awaken Virgil, a raspy voice broke the silence. “Going somewhere?”
    I jerked around to see Virgil standing in his doorway. I shook my head. “Not without you, it appears.”
    He nodded. “Where are we going?”
    “I hate for people to