Hooked

world, isn’t it?” Smoke spiraled from Russo’s mouth as he spoke.
    “Getting smaller all the time,” Dennis said.
    After squinting at Dennis as if he were a lower life form, Russo carried on, zeroing in on Linc. “From what my niece told me, her husband took his own life. Strange, I never imagined Rick to be the type.”
    “Mr. Martell’s death was a homicide,” Linc said. “The note he left claimed Martell killed Sarah Marshall and a young prostitute by the name of Cindi Tyson.” Linc turned to Benny. “Did you know either of those women, Mr. Cooper?”
    Blood rushed to Benny’s face. “You know I knew Sarah, but I’ve never heard of the Dyson girl.”
    “Oh, is it Dyson?” Linc asked, checking his notebook again. “Hmm, so it is. Thank you for correcting me.” He stared at Benny, whose face now glistened with sweat.
    “I must have misheard.”
    “Must have. I have it on good authority she rented a room here occasionally. Like Ms. Dell. Am I mistaken?”
    “She…she may have. Colin would have that information. I’m not always here, so I don’t know everyone who rents a room when she or he is in town.” Benny cleared his throat. “Anything’s possible.”
    Linc wanted to pursue this line of questioning, but Cooper would call his lawyer and the conversation would be over. Besides, it wouldn’t help find Tawny.
    Russo stopped further discussion anyway, referring back to Martell’s murder. “Rick’s note might be right, however,” he said. “He suffered an unfortunate incident when he was a boy. He accidentally killed his sister. He’s been seeing therapists for years, but I’m not sure they helped him deal with the guilt. I’m no psychologist, but an incident like that could have devastating effects. In fact, Rick had been rather distracted lately. Maybe he took the only way he knew to stop the pain.”
    “Maybe,” Linc said. “I’ve heard worse theories, and you’ve explained why Cart was at Martell’s office, but I’d still like to talk to him. Maybe Martell hinted at what he was going to do. Do you have Cart’s contact information, Mr. Cooper?”
    Russo interrupted before Benny could respond. “Come on, Walsh. You can get Reggie’s address with one phone call.”
    Though not physically imposing, Russo exuded awesome power. He spoke in the voice of a stage actor, clear and resonant, with no hint of his Sicilian roots or Brooklyn accent.
    “This visit reeks of harassment,” Russo continued. “I know all about that. For some reason, the police in this city think I’m the cause of everything bad that happens. Now someone has murdered the accountant my sons and I employed for our construction business. As for Ms. Dell, I doubt it would take much checking to find out Mr. Martell managed her money and did her taxes, which is why her prints were identified in Rick’s office. I’m sure you already knew that, and that she and I have known each other for many years.”
    The two men stared at each other in a room as quiet as church during Sunday sermon. His comment twisted the knife in Linc’s back. Was he that obvious, or did Russo know something he shouldn’t? Had he seen Linc at Tawny’s apartment? If so, she was as good as dead.
    Eileen Cooper shifted in her chair but one look from Russo and she remained quiet. Linc summoned his professional reserve from a place deep down, seething with hate. “For the record, Mr. Russo, where were you this morning?” Linc checked his watch. “Yesterday morning now?”
    Russo smiled, as if he’d anticipated the question. “SUNY Downstate, enduring a chemo treatment. Twenty people can verify that. Besides, why would I want to murder Rick? That’s not the way I do business, contrary to what people think.”
    “No, you get others to do your dirty work,” Dennis said.
    Russo scowled at the detective. “You’d have to prove that, and you can’t.”
    Linc couldn’t waste any more time. Maybe Tawny had managed to leave the building before anyone arrived on the scene and was on her way home. But even as the thought flittered through his mind, he knew she would have answered her phone when he called. No, she was in serious trouble. Maybe fatal trouble. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Cooper. I might want to talk to you again.” He forced an impatient smile at Eileen and nodded at Russo.
    “Next time,” Benny said, “I think I’ll take Mario’s advice and have a lawyer present.”
    “Your call,” Linc said, heading for the