Ill-Gotten Games by B. V. Lawson Page A

grimaced. “Innocent until proven guilty, Miltie.”
    “Ah, but your client’s guilt is obvious. Knowledge from his job with Artserve Enterprises about the shipment of Egyptian figurines. In debt to his eyeballs. No alibi for time of the heist. And he had a gun matching the type used, which he conveniently lost. I’ve gotten convictions with less.”
    “Don’t forget our friend, Mr. Reasonable Doubt, Taynter. I haven’t.”
    Taynter hesitated a fraction of a second, then patted Baskin on the shoulder like a senile relative and headed into the courtroom. He added over his shoulder, “Yes, I think today’s the day, Baskin. I’ve even got plane tickets to San Diego this weekend. I’m looking forward to the sun, the sand and a relaxing massage by the pool.”
    When he was out of sight, Baskin flipped his middle finger in Taynter’s direction, making Drayco laugh. “Cheer up, Benny. Parrack wasn’t the only person with shipment details. I doubt he’d risk leaving seven kids fatherless while he’s in jail. And the surviving guard didn’t get a description of the attacker. It’s all hearsay.”
    Baskin crumpled up the coffee cup he’d been holding and tossed it into the trash against the wall, where it left a weeping brown stain. “That’s why I need Jalen Truitt, Drayco. He’s got to be the brawn behind Odom’s brains. We find him and the missing figurines along with him, and my client is cleared. Without him, we’re doomed. Haven’t you seen the vultures on the courthouse roof? They’re smelling carrion.”
    “You think it’s that bad?”
    “Hell, yes. I’ll never take a case as a favor for Cousin Kenny ever again. So what’ve you got? Tell me you’re earning your retainer.”
    “Truitt’s in town. A friend of his was happy to tell me and a few Ben Franklins some of Truitt’s hangouts.” Well, it wasn’t an out and out lie. The friend happened to be one of Drayco’s informants, but he trusted Drayco not to interfere with his questionable businesses, and so far he’d never double-crossed Drayco in return.
    Baskin looked at his watch. “Can you check those hangouts without tipping off the State Department? Between those annoying suits and the Egyptian government, my dance card is full of people stepping on my toes.”
    “I’ve spied a suit or two following me but I can shake them. The good news is, my contact told me Truitt’s still in D.C. and may have stashed the figurines nearby.”
    “Oh well that narrows things down. I hope Truitt isn’t thumbing his nose at police again. When he stole that Chagall painting, he hid it in plain sight in his poor unsuspecting cousin’s insurance company.”
    When Baskin raised his wrist in front of his face for a third time to stare at it, Drayco rolled his eyes. “Taynter’s taunting aside, are you really running out of time?”
    Baskin’s glare could slice a man in half at ten paces. “Damn straight I am. So why are you hanging around here? Go fetch. I will not let that smug bastard Odom walk out of here scot-free.”
    “I’ll do what I can. I wish you’d called me in sooner.”
    That alone should have been a warning sign since Baskin had an annoying habit of calling in Drayco at the last minute when his back was against a wall. It had only taken a day for Drayco to share Baskin’s frustration. Thaddeus Odom the Fourth was the quintessential spoiled rich kid, everything handed to him on a diamond platter. He had a hobby of collecting citations for being drunk and disorderly, which the D.C. government overlooked after his Daddy Morebucks threatened to pull funding from the new waterfront development. Then there was Odom’s unhealthy attitude toward women, several rapes rumored in his past. But Daddy Morebucks was a pro at cleaning up junior’s messes.
    Drayco guessed Odom’s misogyny explained his obsession with collecting Egyptian Hathor figurines, the more naked the better. It wasn’t long after Odom cozied up to a Smithsonian curator