protect a client, they could always add another phone number to a court order and get Ethan’s ID that way. The phone service provider would cooperate, but it would save time and leg work if the publicist played ball.
Cronan decided to sit back and let Angel work her magic, woman to woman. If that didn’t work and he sensed resistance, he had a backup plan. Anyone could do bad cop, good cop. But hot cop, beat up cop with a face bruised like an overripe banana, now that raised the bar.
He settled into his chair and glared at the woman behind the desk. He gave her his best Chuck Norris. And Angel? Well, she was always hot. Rachel Blevins didn’t stand a chance.
“ We’re investigating a murder that happened last night. A young woman,” his partner began.
“ Oh, my.” The publicist grimaced. “That’s tragic, but why come to me?”
“ A corporate name came up in our investigation, and your name is listed as a contact person.” Angel looked down at her notes. “Circle of Fifths.”
Rachel Blevins flinched, a subtle twitch that came and went, but Cronan hadn’t missed it.
“But we’re specifically looking for a man named Ethan,” Angel continued. “Do you know him?”
“ Ethan?” The publicist shrugged and pursed her lips. “You don’t have a last name?”
“ No, we don’t. But we do have a phone number for him.” His partner read the number aloud.
“ That number doesn’t ring a bell.” She shook her head. “How did you get my name again?”
Cronan recognized a stall tactic when he saw one. Plus, when he stared at Rachel Blevins, she took great pains to avoid looking back. She sucked at playing nonchalant, and patience would never be a virtue he could claim.
“Protecting him won’t help.” He finally broke the Chuck Norris code of silence.
“ Excuse me?”
“ You heard what I said. You’re a publicist, and Ethan is a client. If we have to go public with this information, how will your client take it, knowing you could have kept this inquiry discreet and chose not to help the police? You get my drift?”
Rachel Blevins clenched her jaw and sat back in her chair. Cronan knew the wheels were turning in her head. Whatever she came up with now would be like buffing up horseshit to pass it off as a diamond.
“Perhaps if you told me more about the woman who was killed?” Blevins went fishing and fixed her gaze on Angel, the hot cop. Cronan was determined not to let the publicist gain the upper hand. From years of experience as his partner, Angel would know he wanted into the conversation. Whatever came next would be his play. He leaned and rested his elbow on the desk. With his free hand, he juggled the woman’s nameplate and messed up her tidy corner of the universe.
“ You see the thing is, we can come back with a court order and turn this place upside down. I don’t think you want that.” He kept his eyes on her. “The way I see it, you’ve got more to lose here. If we have to come back with paper to force you to release that information to us, we can turn your office into a circus of blue uniforms. Confiscating files until we sort things out isn’t out of the realm of possibility. What would Ethan say about that? Hell, what would ‘the Donald’ say?”
The publicist’s face turned red. In truth, any court order would be used to obtain phone company records, not the files of a publicist trying to protect her client. But by the look on this woman’s face, Rachel Blevins didn’t know that.
“I can’t be sure until I verify that phone number, but you might be referring to Ethan Chandler.” She glared at Cronan before she turned her attention back to Angel. “And yes, he’s a client.”
Angel made a note of the name. “Do you have an address for Mr. Chandler? We need to talk to him as soon as possible.”
The woman hesitated, but when Cronan popped his neck and glared at her without saying a word, she gave in and coughed up the address. More trendy digs in downtown
Cronan decided to sit back and let Angel work her magic, woman to woman. If that didn’t work and he sensed resistance, he had a backup plan. Anyone could do bad cop, good cop. But hot cop, beat up cop with a face bruised like an overripe banana, now that raised the bar.
He settled into his chair and glared at the woman behind the desk. He gave her his best Chuck Norris. And Angel? Well, she was always hot. Rachel Blevins didn’t stand a chance.
“ We’re investigating a murder that happened last night. A young woman,” his partner began.
“ Oh, my.” The publicist grimaced. “That’s tragic, but why come to me?”
“ A corporate name came up in our investigation, and your name is listed as a contact person.” Angel looked down at her notes. “Circle of Fifths.”
Rachel Blevins flinched, a subtle twitch that came and went, but Cronan hadn’t missed it.
“But we’re specifically looking for a man named Ethan,” Angel continued. “Do you know him?”
“ Ethan?” The publicist shrugged and pursed her lips. “You don’t have a last name?”
“ No, we don’t. But we do have a phone number for him.” His partner read the number aloud.
“ That number doesn’t ring a bell.” She shook her head. “How did you get my name again?”
Cronan recognized a stall tactic when he saw one. Plus, when he stared at Rachel Blevins, she took great pains to avoid looking back. She sucked at playing nonchalant, and patience would never be a virtue he could claim.
“Protecting him won’t help.” He finally broke the Chuck Norris code of silence.
“ Excuse me?”
“ You heard what I said. You’re a publicist, and Ethan is a client. If we have to go public with this information, how will your client take it, knowing you could have kept this inquiry discreet and chose not to help the police? You get my drift?”
Rachel Blevins clenched her jaw and sat back in her chair. Cronan knew the wheels were turning in her head. Whatever she came up with now would be like buffing up horseshit to pass it off as a diamond.
“Perhaps if you told me more about the woman who was killed?” Blevins went fishing and fixed her gaze on Angel, the hot cop. Cronan was determined not to let the publicist gain the upper hand. From years of experience as his partner, Angel would know he wanted into the conversation. Whatever came next would be his play. He leaned and rested his elbow on the desk. With his free hand, he juggled the woman’s nameplate and messed up her tidy corner of the universe.
“ You see the thing is, we can come back with a court order and turn this place upside down. I don’t think you want that.” He kept his eyes on her. “The way I see it, you’ve got more to lose here. If we have to come back with paper to force you to release that information to us, we can turn your office into a circus of blue uniforms. Confiscating files until we sort things out isn’t out of the realm of possibility. What would Ethan say about that? Hell, what would ‘the Donald’ say?”
The publicist’s face turned red. In truth, any court order would be used to obtain phone company records, not the files of a publicist trying to protect her client. But by the look on this woman’s face, Rachel Blevins didn’t know that.
“I can’t be sure until I verify that phone number, but you might be referring to Ethan Chandler.” She glared at Cronan before she turned her attention back to Angel. “And yes, he’s a client.”
Angel made a note of the name. “Do you have an address for Mr. Chandler? We need to talk to him as soon as possible.”
The woman hesitated, but when Cronan popped his neck and glared at her without saying a word, she gave in and coughed up the address. More trendy digs in downtown
Similar Books
