Page 16 of Justice

“Sorry, my bad. Mr. Kenner, the attorney sent by the State Attorney’s office to hand me my walking papers.”

“And was this Kenner guy hot?”

“Didn’t notice.” Justice shrugged her shoulders, but it was the way the skin at her chest turned a muted red, which told Molly she had lied to her again.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Drake sat in his office,a suit-clad man standing nervously before him. He had received a call from the State of Georgia two days ago, requesting an appointment with him at his earliest convenience.

“All of your wife’s effects are inside,” sweat beaded on the tall man’s forehead as he pointed to the document box on the table. Drake had a million of the same style in a warehouse across town, full of receipts he didn’t need but kept for when the authorities became too nosy.

“How did it happen?” Drake donned his indifferent face, the one he saved for meetings with other Family leaders, and attorneys much like Adam Kenner.

“Details are a bit sketchy, but the evidence points to retaliation. Mrs. Hannigan had recently been placed in solitary confinement due to a scuffle with the officers in her cell block.”

Adam had been selected for this team based on his public relations expertize. His boss had offered him several benefits including a huge promotion, if he would fly to Boston and deliver the news to Drake Hannigan in person, keeping the details of what they knew to a minimum.

Adam had done his research on Drake Hannigan and decided the benefits outweighed the risk in telling the notorious mob boss of his wife’s death. There had to be a reason for his absence during the trial, and the short time Deidre was incarcerated. He was banking on a lack of concern for her on Drake’s part, allowing him to deliver the news and arrive safely back in Atlanta.

“Do we know how many were involved?” Drake kept his voice soft, yet allowing a hint of masculinity to permeate the room, establishing who was alpha.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hannigan. I wish I had more information, but the investigation is on-going.”

Drake knew this little piss ant wouldn’t tell him what he needed to know. He could see the hand the state of Georgia had up his ass from where he sat, controlling every vowel and syllable that fell from his lips.

“Here’s my card, Mr. Hannigan. Please call the number on the back when you are ready to have your wife’s body shipped home. When I get the official report on what occurred, I will be in contact.”

Drake watched as a single drop of sweat trailed down Adam’s temple and onto the lapel of his off-the-rack jacket. He found amusement in watching how much being in the room with a man like himself, created such intimidation. He knew the search Mr. Kenner performed on him, only finding the information he allowed everyone who did the same before him to find. This fresh out of law school kid had flown from Atlanta and should be wrapped around a cup of hot coffee, instead of melting into a puddle of fear in his office.

“Thank you for your time, leave the contact information with my secretary.” Drake dismissed Adam, turning to look out his fifth-floor window, his distraught expression intact, the final ruse he would need as the grieving widower.

When the soft thud of the exterior door to his office sounded, he picked up the phone and asked his secretary to come in.

“Drake, I’m so sorry about Mrs. Hannigan.” Laura’s shaky voice called from the doorway, a pencil and pad of paper clutched in her hand, which hung at hip level.

“Thank you, Laura. Please, come in and have a seat.”

Laura Ashe had worked for him for the past two years, after Deidre hand selected her based on her plainness and lack of style. Drake didn’t agree with his late wife’s description of Ms. Ashe, finding her to be confident, with an abundance of common sense. Granted she dressed like a ninety-year-old lady most of the time, with long thick sweaters and orthotic shoes. Drake had offered to send her shopping and have the team who shellacked Deidre’s face every morning, perform a makeover for her, but she had politely declined.

“Thank you for the condolences, I know Deidre wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.”

Laura lowered her face, laying the pad on her lap, “I’m sure she had her reasons,” she defended. Drake wondered if she would feel different if she knew why she had been chosen for her position.

“Don’t we all.” He countered, knowing he had a tendency to go off the edge when things didn’t quite go his way.

“I need you to call the funeral home, have them contact the prison and arrange for Deidre’s body to be released. I’ll need to meet with her family before the final arrangements are made.”

Laura scribbles his instructions on the white pad, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she nods her head in agreement.

“Call my priest, include him on the arrangements, and forward the information to my cell.”

“Should I cancel your dinner meeting?”

Drake had nearly forgotten the favor an associate of his had called for last week. An order of protection on a client of his, who had crawled into bed with the wrong people.

“No, I can manage it.” He may live the life of a hardened criminal, but Drake Hannigan never went back on his word. “Besides, I’ll need a distraction once I break the news to Deidre’s parents.

Drake waited until he heard Laura speaking with the funeral home his Family used in the past before picking up his cell and scrolling its contacts. He listened as three rings sounded before the gruff voice of his private investigator answered.

---