Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

He shrugged. "Possible. Would explain the phone call."

"Exactly," Quinn said. "I'm not ruling out Contrapasso or Koss, but let's start by seeing if this mystery call actually came to Koss. Between Evelyn and me, we should be able to get Koss's phone records."

Getting those records wasn't easy, but it wasn't as hard as it probably should be. Evelyn said she'd handle it and called back an hour later. She spoke to Jack, as she usually did.

The problem with Jack taking the call? It was nearly impossible to eavesdrop. I couldn't hear Evelyn's side and from Jack all I got were grunts and single-word answers. He did, however, make notes, which would have been a lot more helpful if his note-taking was any more loquacious than his speech. There were numbers. That's it.

When he got off the phone, though, he was quick to explain. Koss hadn't been lying about receiving two calls to his home office, one last night and one this morning, both from the same number. The one at 7:30 last evening had connected just long enough to suggest the answering machine picked up and the caller listened to the message but didn't leave one. The second call, at 11:45 this morning, lasted nearly two minutes, which confirmed Koss's story that they had spoken briefly.

Evelyn had also pulled Koss's cell record. He hadn't made any calls or texted anyone from the time his lecture started until after he left the restaurant with his wife. Which gave some serious weight to the theory that someone else hired last night's hitman.

Evelyn had even gone one step further, running the number that called Koss. It had placed a call around five, then received two from the same number later in the evening--one at nine, one just before midnight.

I took out my phone.

"Whoa," Quinn said. "Hold on. You don't want to call that number just yet."

"Not the one that called Koss," I said. "The one that caller phoned and received two calls from."

Quinn looked confused. "Okay, but still, you don't want to use your phone for that. Even a burner."

"It can scramble the outgoing calls. The number won't match anything I've used before."

"Shit. I've heard of that but where--? Ah. Felix."

I nodded.

"I partnered with the guy for a week last year and you get the toys."

"Not me." I hooked a finger at Jack.

"You want one?" Jack said. "Just ask. It'll cost, though. Not cheap."

I dialed the number while they talked. It took a moment to connect. Then it started to ring . . . from the end table beside Quinn. He picked up the locked phone.

"Shit," he said. "You saw that coming, didn't you?"

"Playing a hunch," I said. "So whoever phoned Koss also called our hitman. Presumably, he's the client."

"We really need to learn who's at the other end of that phone," Quinn said.

"Yep."

There was no pressing need now to crack the hitman's phone. We still would, but having his number meant we could track his calls. Evelyn would do that. She'd also tried phoning the number that called Koss. It had gone straight to "customer not available." We tried and got the same, suggesting it was either off or he'd replaced the SIM card.

"The question is," Quinn said as we settled in again, "who would put out a hit on both you and Koss? I could guess Contrapasso covering a bad hit, but the Aldrich hit wasn't bad. I've been monitoring the case through law-enforcement contacts. Nobody suspects this was anything except a remorseful killer who offed himself. To them, it's a good-news story. They have no interest in looking closer."

"Agreed," I said. "So there's no reason for Contrapasso to panic and take out one of their own, especially someone as valuable as Koss. Which means we're back to our original theory that Aldrich had friends. Nasty friends."

"Right," Quinn said. "We know a fellow scumbag didn't kill him, but that could be who's after you."

I nodded. "Koss might not have been the only person Aldrich called after he saw me." I looked at Quinn. "Can we get Aldrich's phone records?"

He nodded. "So the theory would be that this guy is worried either Koss or you know something--or will find something--that will bring him down. Which suggests not just some scumbag friend but . . ."

I glanced at Jack.

"Partner," he said. "Aldrich had a partner."