Shoot (39 page)

“Night, Eddie,” I mumbled from under Walter’s hat, hustling out the swinging door, hoping most guards didn’t pay as much attention to people leaving as they did to those trying to get in.

“Can I get you a cab, sir?” I heard Eddie say halfheartedly inside, not bothering to rise, as I disappeared.

As I walked, I thought about what I had just done— framed a killer with planted evidence and executed him, without trial, in a state without the death penalty. All in a day’s work. I felt bad but not nearly bad enough. It felt like justice to me.

Walking faster, I made a traceless digital web call through a free internet service in Amsterdam called ZeroTrace, which distorted voices and deleted all electronic signatures once the call ended.

“Hello?”

“Is this Detective Lieutenant Negron of the Major Case Squad?” my robot-like, altered voice asked.

“Yeah, who the fuck is this? Iron Man?”

“Not important,” I told him. “What’s important is that a secret source is tipping you off to who is behind your political murders but you need to move fast to get him.”

I told Izzy Walter’s name, address and penthouse number and suggested he get there before Cantor committed suicide or fled the jurisdiction. I mentioned a flag as evidence, a dangerous weapon on the coffee table and reminded him to feed the cat. That was probably enough for NYPD to get in the door without a warrant.

“Who the hell is this?”

I hung up.

Walter Cantor had ordered the deaths of five people to throw an election but I wanted my last memory of him to be a positive one. I tried to think of him as a winged bundle of consequence, speeding toward his fate. His view of the city he loved would be magical right about now. High over the harbor, on his way toward the Atlantic Ocean, he would have a once-in-a-lifetime view of the Statue of Liberty, lifting her light beside the Golden Door.

I tossed Walter’s cap in a trashcan and headed home to Jane and Skippy, my real magic.

KIERAN CROWLEY was a
New York Times
bestselling author and award-winning investigative reporter, who received communication from an actual serial killer and deciphered his secret code. He covered hundreds of trials and thousands of murders and recovered evidence missed by police at numerous crime scenes, some of which helped bring killers to justice. He passed away in 2016.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world at the infamous tabloid the
New York Mail
, where brand new pet columnist F.X. Shepherd accidentally finds himself on the trail of The Hacker, a serial killer targeting unpleasant celebrities in inventive—and sometimes decorative—ways. And it’s only his second day on the job. Luckily Shepherd has hidden talents, not to mention a hidden agenda. But as bodies and suspects accumulate, he finds himself running afoul of cutthroat office politics, the NYPD, and Ginny Mac, an attractive but ruthless reporter for a competing newspaper. And when Shepherd himself is contacted by The Hacker, he realizes he may be next on the killer’s list…

“A witty and incisive mystery set in the raucous world of tabloid journalism. It’s like Jack Reacher meets Jack Black.”
Rebecca Cantrell,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Delivers high and frequent thrills. A rollicking, sharp-witted crime novel.”
Kirkus Reviews

“The man is a legend, a master of his craft. It’s a joy to read and captures the imagination from the start.”
Long Island Press