Free Formerly Fingerman by Joe Nelms Page A

go now?”
    â€œWell, actually we have a few more questions for you.”
    â€œLook, I told you everything I know. I got in the elevator. I bent down to clean off my shoe and then pow, this guy is dead.”
    â€œYou must have seen something, heard something, smelled something. Anything.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    Other agents had been building cases against Frank Fortunato for years. Run of the mill stuff for mob bosses—third-hand hearsay and vaguely relevant circumstances. Low-level wannabe gangsters caught with enough weed to turn over the guys they bought it from, guys who had a relationship with the Maraschino family. Drunks who claimed they saw Frank leave through the back entrance of a restaurant the night its owner had all four limbs broken. But the feds’ efforts were largely pointless and at best annoying to Frank. They had never come up with anything concrete. Not like what was sitting in Brittany’s chair. Not like this FBI goldmine.
    â€œIt’s okay to be scared, Brad. I’m sure you’ve seen Frank’s picture in the paper. Probably heard the rumors about him killing witnesses.”
    â€œWait, what? He kills witnesses? Holy shi—”
    â€œThey’re only rumors. Trust me. We can protect you.”
    â€œI’m not scared. I didn’t see anything.”
    Brittany sighed. “Look, Brad. What’s it going to take? If you testify I can make sure they never find you. I can get you a new name, a new job, a new life. Maybe somewhere nice, like Idaho or Georgia. You pick it. You can start all over.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œThe Witness Protection Program. You’re an ideal candidate.”
    â€œCan’t someone else testify? Don’t you have other witnesses? What about the slow guy who arrested Fortunato?”
    â€œYes, we have Special Agent Lewis. But he wasn’t there in the elevator when the murder actually happened. And we have other witnesses, but all they can do is put Frank at the scene of the crime. It’s not enough. This could be the biggest case in twenty years. That means lot of media coverage, which means we can’t make one mistake. We have to be perfect. We need your testimony so we can put Frank Fortunato away for life.”
    What was going on here? This wasn’t how the vine system was supposed to work. Tarzan’s vines always took him where he wanted to go. They didn’t take him to maybe somewhere nice like Idaho or Georgia. The logic of the elaborate jungle transit system was such that the vines in question hung at angles that avoided sending the ape man directly into massive tree trunks. That was George of the Jungle territory.
    Holy cats. Brad might not be Tarzan. But he couldn’t be George, could he? The premise was untenable. Which meant the vine being jammed into his hand was the wrong vine. No way the Witness Protection Program could lead to anything productive or sexy career-wise. What kind of agencies might they have in Idaho? Definitely not a branch office of Red Light. And that was the point of today, wasn’t it? The rebirth of Brad. He just had a killer interview for his dream job. His confidence was back. He felt taller. The Fingerman renaissance was scheduled to begin any second now. Sitting in the offices of the FBI was simply a post-traumatic stress induced courtesy. Not only did he have no interest in helping the feds, but the process would completely derail his comeback tour. No, no, no!
    On top of all that, he still hadn’t returned Gracie’s call. Plus, he’d need to invest in a wardrobe refresh before he started at Red Light. Was his phone ringer on? What if Geoff called right now to tell him to come in tomorrow and pick an office? He had to get ready. Time was a-wasting!
    God help him, but clearly Brad’s best course of action here was to be honest.
    He looked up from his now warm, unopened Pepsi can.
    â€œI wish I could