Page 30 of Butterfly Assassin
Frank held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. White slash Smith is definitely a piece of shit, but we have nothing but a hunch connecting him to the murders. Nothing that’s going to convince Arlington to do what I know you’re thinking about suggesting.”
Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a golden fucking opportunity.”
“It is, but we still need something.”
“We can’t bring him in, I’m sure he has an alibi in place, and that’ll just tip him off. What about the fact that Harper can place Crossford at Smith’s fight on Saturday night and that according to him, Crossford and Smith parted on less than friendly terms?”
“But he left that meeting alive. If Smith wanted to kill him—and murder seems a bit harsh for not throwing a fight—then why not do it after the fight. Why let Crossford leave, go to McDonald’s, only to catch up with him later. How did Smith know where he was for starters?”
“Maybe he had him followed?”
Frank frowned. “I have the same gut feeling that Smith, White, whatever you want to call him, is at the root of all this, but I’m not sure we have enough to convince Arlington.”
“Convince Arlington of what?”
They both startled, unaware their boss had appeared behind them. Detective Chief Inspector Max Arlington’s six-foot-two frame loomed over them.
“Sir.” Michael spun around in his chair to face him; Frank did the same. “We have an idea about how to proceed in the Crossford case.”
Arlington gestured towards his office. “Come on then, let’s hear it.”
MICHAEL SAT next to Frank on the opposite side of the desk to their boss, waiting to see what he had to say to their suggestion.
Arlington steepled his fingers and glanced from Michael to Frank, then back again. Michael had plenty of practice enduring that look, and he waited for him to process the information they’d just bombarded him with, knowing he’d speak when he was good and ready.
“So.” Arlington glanced down at the folder they’d brought in. “You think Daryl White is involved with these murders?”
“We do.”
“But you have nothing that puts him at or anywhere near the scene of any of the three murders.”
Michael didn’t bat an eye. “No. But then White would never get his hands dirty. He has people to do that sort of thing for him.”
“You think he has a shifter in his employ? Because that’s what you’re implying.” Michael went to answer but Arlington wasn’t finished. “And if that was the case, wouldn’t he already know that one of his fighters was a shifter? It’d make sense to use him there since that’s one of White’s rules. And in your report, you say that Harper only sensed other fighters who were shifters, not any of Smith’s slash White’s men.” He huffed. “Why can’t they ever stick to their own name? It’s not like no one knows they’re the same person.” Resting his forearms on his desk, Arlington sighed. “Can you give me one good reason why I should authorise this?”
Michael met his gaze, unflinching. “My gut says White’s involved and that it has something to do with the illegal fights he organises. I don’t want to wait for another body to turn up.”
Silence filled the office for three long seconds and then Arlington sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Don’t make me regret this. Make sure we have sufficient backup in place to minimise any risk involved. I’d rather not have to face the alpha council and explain how we got one of their shifters killed.” He glanced over Michael’s shoulder and then added. “Get Bridgford and Stewart in on this too. I want to have as many eyes on him as possible when he sets foot in that place.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want a report on my desk first thing tomorrow detailing all those involved, your plans to gather information, and contingencies for when shit hits the fan.” He made a shooing motion with his fingers, signalling they were done, so Michael stood, pushing his chair back. Frank followed suit.
Once they’d closed the door behind them, Michael grinned and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna let Thomas know we want to see him, Harper, and Nash tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll go fill in Bridgford and Stewart.” Frank stalked across the room while Michael made his call.
FOR THE second time in as many days, they parked outside the Clapham Common Pack buildings.
Frank turned off the engine and paused, keys in hand. “You think they’ll go for it?”
Michael shrugged. “The alternative is a possible spell in Krillick Hall. What would you do?”
“Good point.”
They showed their warrant cards at the front door and made their way to the top floor, headed to Alpha Thomas’s flat again.
