office on the building's
south side. The name on the office door read Quinton Barlow.
"I want to see my damn attorney! Where is he?!" the male
voice thundered behind the wood paneled door.
Zack hesitated. "That sounds like Ronnie T."
Warwick nodded. "He's either one damn good liar or he
doesn't know what happened to Harold."
"My money's on one damn good liar."
Ronnie T. had built a drug empire that stretched up and down the I-95
corridor. He'd evaded arrest on drug-trafficking charges; however, thanks
to Zack's undercover work, the Feds had been able to make a case for
income tax evasion.
Without announcing himself, Zack opened the door and strolled into the
plush office. "I thought I heard a familiar voice."
Warwick was a step behind him. "What's got everyone so
upset?"
Ronnie T. stood in front of Quinton Barlow's desk, his right hand
clenching an ornate walking stick that coordinated with his white jumpsuit and
custom Nikes. He sported a ball cap cocked at a jaunty angle and wore a thick
gold chain worth more than most cops made in a year.
Across the desk, a composed Quinton Barlow faced him. Short and pudgy,
he wore a white monogrammed dress shirt, red silk tie, and dark suit pants.
Barlow had been practicing criminal defense law for thirty-plus years. Dealing
with men like Ronnie T. was standard.
Barlow met Zack's gaze and smiled pleasantly. "Gentlemen,
what can we do for you?"
Ronnie T.'s eyes narrowed before he smiled at Zack. "Five-O. Shit. Before you ask, I ain't done nothing wrong. My hearing was canceled this morning, because
my damn attorney didn't show. I was just asking Quinton here where the
hell Harold is hiding."
Zack pulled a slim notebook and pen out of his pocket. "So where
is Harold?"
Ronnie T. flashed a signature grin even as his grip tightened on his
cane. "Quinton isn't telling."
"Ronnie only just burst into my office," Barlow said.
Zack raised an eyebrow and looked at Barlow, unsure of what he really
knew about his law partner. "Do you know where your partner is?"
Barlow didn't flinch. "I've spoken to Jordan. She told
me about your visit."
"She didn't waste any time," Zack said.
"She understands even the innocent need an attorney when dealing
with the police," Quinton said.
Ronnie T. leaned on his cane. "Someone mind filling me in on
what's what?"
Zack studied Barlow's guarded expression before he shifted his
gaze back to the dealer. "Harold's body was found this morning
behind Sanctuary Women's Shelter. He was shot point-blank in the
chest."
Ronnie T.'s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Shit."
Zack wasn't fooled by Ronnie's surprise. "When's
the last time you saw your counselor?"
Barlow cleared his throat. "Don't answer any of their
questions."
Ronnie T. shrugged. "I don't mind answering, Quinton. I
ain't got nothing to hide. I saw Harold
yesterday after court."
"Word is you two fought," Zack said. "Fact, I hear it
was nearly a knock-down, drag-out fight in the courthouse."
"Ronnie," Barlow warned, " keep your mouth shut."
Ronnie T. waved Barlow off. "Yeah, we mixed it up. He wanted me to
take a plea agreement. I told him I was paying him the big bucks to keep me out
of jail. The deal was no time spent behind bars."
"What time was that?" Warwick said.
"About three."
"Do you know where Turner was headed?" Zack said.
"Said something about dinner with his old
lady."
"And where were you last night, Ronnie T.?" Zack said.
Ronnie T.'s full lips split into a wide grin. "I was at a
swim meet. My kid was swimming the butterfly for the first time at the
community pool. He's on the Mite team. And he won his heat."
"I'm assuming you have witnesses," Warwick said.
"I do." Ronnie T. sounded amused. "They are some of
Richmond's finest--all white folks. I can give you a list of
names."
Zack flipped to a clean page in his notebook. "Let's have
them."
Ronnie T. rattled off a half dozen names. He looked pleased with
himself. Whatever had gone down last night, Ronnie T. had
south side. The name on the office door read Quinton Barlow.
"I want to see my damn attorney! Where is he?!" the male
voice thundered behind the wood paneled door.
Zack hesitated. "That sounds like Ronnie T."
Warwick nodded. "He's either one damn good liar or he
doesn't know what happened to Harold."
"My money's on one damn good liar."
Ronnie T. had built a drug empire that stretched up and down the I-95
corridor. He'd evaded arrest on drug-trafficking charges; however, thanks
to Zack's undercover work, the Feds had been able to make a case for
income tax evasion.
Without announcing himself, Zack opened the door and strolled into the
plush office. "I thought I heard a familiar voice."
Warwick was a step behind him. "What's got everyone so
upset?"
Ronnie T. stood in front of Quinton Barlow's desk, his right hand
clenching an ornate walking stick that coordinated with his white jumpsuit and
custom Nikes. He sported a ball cap cocked at a jaunty angle and wore a thick
gold chain worth more than most cops made in a year.
Across the desk, a composed Quinton Barlow faced him. Short and pudgy,
he wore a white monogrammed dress shirt, red silk tie, and dark suit pants.
Barlow had been practicing criminal defense law for thirty-plus years. Dealing
with men like Ronnie T. was standard.
Barlow met Zack's gaze and smiled pleasantly. "Gentlemen,
what can we do for you?"
Ronnie T.'s eyes narrowed before he smiled at Zack. "Five-O. Shit. Before you ask, I ain't done nothing wrong. My hearing was canceled this morning, because
my damn attorney didn't show. I was just asking Quinton here where the
hell Harold is hiding."
Zack pulled a slim notebook and pen out of his pocket. "So where
is Harold?"
Ronnie T. flashed a signature grin even as his grip tightened on his
cane. "Quinton isn't telling."
"Ronnie only just burst into my office," Barlow said.
Zack raised an eyebrow and looked at Barlow, unsure of what he really
knew about his law partner. "Do you know where your partner is?"
Barlow didn't flinch. "I've spoken to Jordan. She told
me about your visit."
"She didn't waste any time," Zack said.
"She understands even the innocent need an attorney when dealing
with the police," Quinton said.
Ronnie T. leaned on his cane. "Someone mind filling me in on
what's what?"
Zack studied Barlow's guarded expression before he shifted his
gaze back to the dealer. "Harold's body was found this morning
behind Sanctuary Women's Shelter. He was shot point-blank in the
chest."
Ronnie T.'s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Shit."
Zack wasn't fooled by Ronnie's surprise. "When's
the last time you saw your counselor?"
Barlow cleared his throat. "Don't answer any of their
questions."
Ronnie T. shrugged. "I don't mind answering, Quinton. I
ain't got nothing to hide. I saw Harold
yesterday after court."
"Word is you two fought," Zack said. "Fact, I hear it
was nearly a knock-down, drag-out fight in the courthouse."
"Ronnie," Barlow warned, " keep your mouth shut."
Ronnie T. waved Barlow off. "Yeah, we mixed it up. He wanted me to
take a plea agreement. I told him I was paying him the big bucks to keep me out
of jail. The deal was no time spent behind bars."
"What time was that?" Warwick said.
"About three."
"Do you know where Turner was headed?" Zack said.
"Said something about dinner with his old
lady."
"And where were you last night, Ronnie T.?" Zack said.
Ronnie T.'s full lips split into a wide grin. "I was at a
swim meet. My kid was swimming the butterfly for the first time at the
community pool. He's on the Mite team. And he won his heat."
"I'm assuming you have witnesses," Warwick said.
"I do." Ronnie T. sounded amused. "They are some of
Richmond's finest--all white folks. I can give you a list of
names."
Zack flipped to a clean page in his notebook. "Let's have
them."
Ronnie T. rattled off a half dozen names. He looked pleased with
himself. Whatever had gone down last night, Ronnie T. had
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