The Panic Pure

Chapter Fifteen

=THE SPACES IN-BETWEEN=

It felt a bit like a betrayal, nosing in where he didn't belong, but it was something he had to do. Marshal was his friend and it was obvious that he was crazy about Worth.

Hamilton wasn't the kind of man that was willing to let a mystery go, so it had felt perfectly natural to take the information Conway had given him and run a few checks. And what he'd dug up was enough to make the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

Screw up after screw up until it wasn't incompetence anymore. It had to be purposeful sabotage of the investigation.

Someone hadn't wanted the Worth murders solved, and they'd gotten their way. It was just a question of who and how many agents had let themselves be lured by money into becoming just as bad as the crooks they busted. Worse even, as they were supposed to be on the side of the angels. Not helping innocent people be murdered for their fortune.

Acid was bubbling in his stomach and more than anything he wanted to go back in time a week to before he'd known any of this. But it was what it was and there was a crime for him to uncover and arrests to be made.

He now had a crate of hard copy files to go through, all pertaining to the Worth Case, and he'd notified his immediate superior--a woman he knew he could trust--that they were going to have to run an internal investigation to find all the bad seeds. The reaction made him feel as though he'd knocked over a bee hive and it was only a matter of time until people started getting stung.

And on top of everything else, his coffee pot was on the fritz and the one in the break room on his floor produced the kind of sludge he'd expect to be used to tar roofs. Definitely not anything he'd want to drink.

So he grabbed his mug and headed down to the floor below. And like fate, when he stepped into the elevator to return upstairs, he recognized one of the men leaning against the wall.

Arthur Conway was wearing a three-piece suit that probably cost more than the monthly rent on Hamilton's condo, but he carried himself the same as when he'd been in a tee shirt and jeans. There was a pair of expensive sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and he looked bored.

Hamilton nudged his way through the elevator crowd to stand next to him. "I wasn't expecting you here today."

Conway blinked at him, then smiled. For a lawyer, he came across a lot less sleazy than he was charming. "I wasn't expecting to see you here either. Danny had me bring Marshal his lunch." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Huh. So this is a normal thing for you now?" Hamilton asked.

Conway shrugged. "It makes Danny happy to think that Marshal is eating a good meal while working. So he has me drop something off here before going back to the office with his lunch. It's not that far out of my way and sometimes it's nice to get out a little and stretch my legs."

"I bet." Hamilton rubbed his hands together. "Listen, there's something I need to discuss with you. Do you think you could come back to my office now?"

"For a few minutes," Conway said after glancing at his watch. "Danny likes to have his lunch at a specific time, so I can't give you too long."

"That's all right. I just need a minute." He wasn't prepared to mention anything in the pseudo-public of he elevator, but he felt as though Conway could help him with the case.

He led Conway back to his office and closed the door behind them. "I read that you have Daniel's power of attorney."

"Yes," Conway said, perching on a chair like a well-dressed falcon. From everything Hamilton had seen about him, Arthur Conway was not someone that fooled around. He was justifiably feared.