Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

he was hoping for all three outcomes.”
    I almost didn’t want to ask, but of course I had to. “How could he pin Carter’s murder on me?”
    Long eyes went to the Zip-lock bag on the table between us. “This was found locked up in the Chief’s office. Not the evidence room, where it belonged. It’s the gun that was used to kill Carter.”
    “How did you know that?”
    Long took a folder from the leather bag and dropped it on the table.
    “Inside is the ballistics report on the bullet that cut Carter’s throat,” Jean-Marc said. “It states that that bullet was fired by this gun, which the cops found at the scene.”
    I looked at the folder but said nothing.
    “We believe the Chief was keeping the gun so he could plant it on someone,” Long said. “My bet is he was hoping to plant it on you. Maybe while you were out looking for Marie, or hunting the man who had put your best friend in the hospital.”
    “Obviously, without this, the Chief can’t connect you to Carter’s murder. So please, as my gift of thanks to you for being a loyal friend to my family, I want you to take it and do with it what you will.”
    I looked at the gun but didn’t make a move to take it. After a while I looked at Long.
    “Won’t you need that to charge Searls with Carter’s murder?” I said.
    “We’ll have more than enough on him to get him put back to jail,” Long answered. “He won’t be getting out again for a long time. Since he’s been free, he’s been having some…fun. More than you know about.”
    I still wasn’t anywhere near willing to take what they were offering me.
    Jean-Marc said, “The Chief must be getting old. He’s slipping. Maybe he’s distracted by whatever’s between you two. Maybe it’s something else. Whatever the reason, he’s on his way out. My family helped him become chief of police. It’s time for someone else to take over now.”
    I looked at Long again. I had come to him this morning because I remembered him to be a decent man. I was betting on his compassion. I had no idea that he was ambitious—so ambitious that he would be part of what was starting to look to me like a coup.
    I turned away then, needed to think. I looked toward the water. It was lead-colored under the broken clouds and many gasps of light. No one was talking now. The handgun in the Zip-lock bag was still on the table. I had learned long ago to shrink away from things that looked too good to pass up. Greed ruined lives, and often not just the lives of the greedy. It was the reason I lived the way I lived—wanting for nothing, and possessing nothing another might want.
    But how could I not grab at this shiny thing? If it was what Jean-Marc and Long said it was, how could I not want to be the one in control of it?
    As if sensing my doubts, Jean-Marc said, “I don’t know what I can say to persuade you, except maybe to remind you that my father cared about you quite a bit. You were nearly part of the family. More so than you realize, I think. My father was quite fond of you. Still is. You know what kind of man he is, Mac. You have to remember the kindness his showed you. You have to know that he doesn’t repay loyalty with betrayal.”
    My mind was still racing. A dozen scenarios played out in my head in a matter of seconds. None of them were good. One thought crossed my mind, however, that I had to address. It was the clearest of all my thoughts.
    “At some point I’ll go looking for a friend of Marie’s named Scully. There’s a score to be settled with him that has nothing to do with her. Will that be a problem for you?”
    Jean-Marc shook his head. “I don’t see us having any trouble with that,” he said.
    I looked at the gun once more. I knew that one way or another this was the end of things—either I took it and walked free, or I took it and walked straight into a trap. My life was there on the table before me, the gamble mine to take, win or lose. It was as simple as that.
    I had no other choice but to take what they were offering me—take it and all the risks that came with it. I wanted my life in my hands, even if that meant letting it slip through my fingers and losing it forever. I wanted it in my hands again, even if only for another day, even if only for a moment.
    “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do what you want.”
    Long picked up the plastic bag and put it back into the leather pack. Jean-Marc reached for his tall glass and took a long sip from it. I knew then that something had