Page 67 of Parrish

“Fine, punish me,” I fume. “But you don’t get Reina. She’s mine and I won’t let you take her from me.”

My tantrum is greeted by more silence and I lift my hands to my face as the mania starts to wash over me. Doubt creeps in too, feeding into the insecurities of my marriage and it isn’t long before I start to think Reina is never going to come back to me.

I jump to my feet as the dire need to destroy everything in sight swarms through me. I’m about to send my fist flying into the altar when I hear my name. Abruptly, I turn around and see the younger Schwartz standing in the back of the chapel. Like his old man, he has an arrogant flare. It’s the way he walks with a chip on his square shoulders. It’s the way he talks like he’s above you. His father had the experience and a stellar reputation to warrant his cockiness. This mutt is fresh out of the womb and has nothing but his good looks and his father’s name.

“I went by your wife’s room and the woman inside told me I could find you in here. I would apologize for interrupting a moment of faith, but it looks like I came just in time,” he says, lifting his gaze to the cross hanging high above me. “I wouldn’t piss him off,” he adds as he unbuttons his three-piece suit. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he strides towards me, dumping his leather briefcase in one of the pews.

“What are you doing here? Where is your old man?”

“I’m here on behalf of my client,” he replies pointedly. “My father passed Petra’s case onto me.”

When Blackie mentioned that he had retained Schwartz, I automatically assumed it was this putz’ father.

“So, Blackie sent you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters. “No one sends me anywhere. I came of my own will.”

His arrogance makes me want to knock his teeth down his throat, but I find a sliver of self-control buried inside of me and remind myself this man isn’t the enemy. Him and his father are used to Victor’s flashy ways. It’s going to take time for him to ditch the Teflon and learn how leather operates.

“Look, I’m not one for games. I know you and your father are used to Victor’s ways, but I don’t need to bask in the limelight of a case, I need results and so does Blackie,” I tell him.

“I suspect that’s why he retained me and not that putz you call an attorney, Holden,” he rebuts. “If you were my client, I would’ve never allowed you to entertain the thought of striking a deal with Ritzer.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the fucking evidence is a joke,” he says, crossing his arms against his chest. “Blackie didn’t make bail, but that’s no fault of mine. The judge looked at his record and laughed in my face,” he adds, pausing to curl his lip. “Not a fine moment for me.”

“Get on with it, Schwartz.”

“They’re moving him to Ryker’s while we wait for the trial to begin.”

“The trial?”

He waves a hand.

“Nothing to worry about,” he scoffs.

This fucking guy is off his rocker. He makes me look stable.

“He’s being charged with two counts of murder,” I exclaim.

“One count,” he corrects. “I got that shit with the paramedic thrown out. Ritzer didn’t have a shred of evidence to back that charge. Same with the disappearance of the other paramedic. Now, this business with his prints on the gun and the dead Mexican in the paper factory—it’s all circumstantial. There is nothing placing him inside that factory. Sure, they have his prints and the forensic report states the bullet that killed the drug dealer came from that gun, it still doesn’t place Blackie at the scene of the crime. If they had a footprint or video footage then yeah, it would take a little work, but this shit is a cake walk. My father has gotten Victor off on far worse charges.”

“That was your father,” I point out. “Not sure how that warrants your confidence.”

Ignoring my comment, he continues.

“This will all be swept under the rug when I stand in front of the judge on day one of the trial. It’s a shame the city will waste the tax payer’s money on something like this.”

“What about the witness? One of Javier’s guys named Blackie in the murder,” I point out.

Instead of replying, he laughs in my face. A full belly laugh that causes his eyes to water. I must’ve missed the punch line because his laughter provokes rage.

“What the fuck is funny about any of this?”

Sobering up, he straightens his tie and bites back another chuckle before fixing me with a look.

“For one, he’s not a credible witness. His rap sheet makes Blackie look like a choir boy and let's call a spade a spade, it wouldn’t be that hard to get rid of him. Deportation is very popular these days and even if it wasn’t, I’m sure Victor didn’t leave this Earth without schooling you people on how to make a witness disappear. I mean you got rid of the other paramedic, didn’t you?”

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