Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) by Mara Jacobs

his arm across me, grazing the tip of my boobs, his hand out for Jimmy to shake.  
    I gave him a sideways look, but his eyes were on Jimmy. But…there was just a hint of some deviousness in his brown eyes.
    Jimmy shook his hand. “Detective,” he said in greeting, his tone cool. Which normally wouldn’t mean anything, but it was cool even for Jimmy. “Any word yet on who done this to Danny?”
    And just like that, any playfulness that I might have imagined on Jack’s face was gone. Cop face was back. He shook his head. “No, sir, we’re still looking into it.”
    Jimmy snorted at that and faced forward again. I stared at Jack Schiller while he studied Jimmy. “Mr. O’Hern owe anybody money that you know of, sir? Gambling debts unpaid?”
    I turned my head to Jimmy, who stared straight ahead for a moment. “No.”
    “No, you know for sure, or none that you know of?”
    “Both,” Jimmy said.
    Jack sighed, ran his hand over his face in a movement I was beginning to recognize. “Mr. Mancino, if you know anything that would help in our investigation, I think you owe it to Mr. O’Hern to—”
    Jimmy turned toward Jack and me. He thrust his meaty hand out and pointed a finger at Jack. “You don’t know the first thing about what I owe to Danny O’Hern, Detective. Don’t think I don’t know why you brought us all to the morgue separately the other night. Didn’t let on the others were there till the end. You was watching us. Watching our reactions to the news. You like one of us for Danny’s killing, don’t you?”
    I looked at Jack, but his face was unreadable.
    If I’ve been around somebody for as long as I’ve been around Jack Schiller—granted, not a ton of time, but on three separate occasions now—I can usually read them pretty well.
    Especially strangers. Believe or not, it’s easier to read strangers than people you know really closely. With strangers it’s a clean slate. Everything is noticeable. With those you know well, you bring your own feelings into it.
    It’s what makes me a good poker player. If I’d wanted to help people rather than win their money, I’d probably make a good shrink.
    But I couldn’t read Jack Schiller.
    And that just made me want to all the more.
    Jimmy gave up on an answer from Jack, gave my hand a squeeze—which startled me—and headed back into the main area of the church.
    “Something I said?” Jack said as he watched Jimmy make his way down the aisle and settle in next to a surprised Lorelei. He hadn’t wanted to disturb Ben on the aisle ahead of them.
    “More like something you didn’t,” I said, trying to draw his eyes off of the boys.
    “Such as?” he asked, but continued to watch the crowd ahead of us.
    “Like, ‘don’t worry, Jimmy, we don’t think you or any of your friends could have had anything to do with hurting Danny’.”
    He gave a little snort. Turning his head slightly, he looked at me out of the corner of his brown eyes. “Good thing he didn’t hold his breath.”
    The crowd was standing again, singing another hymn. I turned fully toward Jack. “You can’t possibly believe that any of those sweet old men had anything to do with this?”
    “Sweet? Jimmy Mancino, sweet?” He raised a brow at me. He had that down perfectly, the one brow raise. I’d practiced it in the mirror when I first started playing, practicing poker expressions. Intimidation tactics
    I could never pull it off.
    But what was probably intimidating to most—Jack’s brow raise—had a different effect on me. One I chose to ignore while talking about the welfare of The Corporation.
    “Jimmy can be sweet,” I said, but didn’t have much conviction in my voice. I decided to try a different tack. “What motive could they possibly have? They all loved Danny. Everybody loved Danny.”
    Jack turned back to the front, sighed. “That’s what I’m finding out. Everybody loved Danny O’Hern.”
    “You sound disappointed.”
    He shrugged, and for the first