Delivering Death: A Novel (Riley Spartz)

Delivering Death: A Novel (Riley Spartz) by Julie Kramer

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Authors: Julie Kramer
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asking, Benny. That plea bargain was a sweetheart deal, even for you.”
    “Yes, Leon Paul Akume turned informant.”
    “Who?”
    “You might be better off not knowing.”
    “Come on,” I pressed. “I just want to know what the cops know. Otherwise I’m at a disadvantage.”
    “Here’s my terms,” he said. “You can know it, but you can’t report it.”
    A tough off-the-record deal. But he had the name, so he had the leverage.
    I always like repeating source arrangements to avoid misunderstandings. “Just so we’re straight, I can report Akume was aninformant as long as I don’t attribute it to you. You’ll give me the name of who he rolled on, but I can’t use it unless I verify it another way.” That wasn’t as difficult as it sounded. As a journalist, once you know what you’re looking for, you know where to look.
    “He gave up Jack Clemens.”
    I knew the name. When a rich guy falls, it makes news.

CHAPTER 24
    O ne secret phone call transformed Inmate 16780-59’s prison standing from chump to champ. Nobody dared call him Trip. He had regular access to a cell phone and the kind of respect only someone like Jack Clemens could buy.
    The voice on the other end of the line had been surprised to hear from him in prison, but greeted him warmly and promised to work out a weekly payment plan with Scarface’s outside people.
    Kilo tried to weasel in on his good fortune, but this time his cell mate relished shutting him down. “Your problems are your problems, remember?”
    “You know I didn’t mean that, Jack. I was just joshing. Hey, you look like you’re losing weight. That’s hard to do on a high-carb prison diet.”
    He was momentarily startled by Kilo’s compliment, and muttered something about getting “plenty of exercise folding towels.” He didn’t care that he had to work a menial job at the prison laundry for twenty cents an hour anymore. Knowing Scarface had his back gave him confidence walking the corridors. And that combination of protection and nerve kept other thugs at bay.
    His first hint that something was wrong came during an off-the-books phone call to check in with his benefactor, who mentioned being irked by the price increase.
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    “Don’t get me wrong, Jack,” the voice said. “I’m willing to pay to keep you safe, but I was just informed the cost is doubling. And apparently there’s no guarantee it won’t keep going up.”
    The inmate felt double-crossed by his prison partners, but didn’t react because he was surrounded by them. “I had no idea. I’ll see what I can find out on this end. I want you to know, I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” the voice said. “No amount of money is enough for what you’ve done for me.”
    He didn’t worry, because he knew what the voice said was true. They both needed each other.
    Approaching Scarface about the finances was problematic. He decided not to take the scam personally, but simply treat it as a business misunderstanding.
    “About our deal?” He brought the subject up when they left the cafeteria together later that day. “My people need to budget, and I thought our price had already been fixed.”
    Scarface stopped walking, placed his hand on his colleague’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “Well, Jack, if you’re unhappy with my services, we don’t need to continue this arrangement.”
    “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He backed out from the big man’s grip. “I’m just wondering how you arrive at your rate?”
    “My people handle the numbers.”
    “Well, my bill keeps going up, and I’m wondering why?”
    “My people never charge more than they think a client can pay. Apparently they think you can afford the best we have to offer.”
    “That sounds more like blackmail than services rendered.” He tried to make it sound like a joke.
    “It is what it is. You made some negotiating mistakes, Jack. If I took advantage of your

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