Jacobs nodded. “In that case, we’ll clear out and leave you to your evening. Do take care to lock up afterward. You never know who you’ll find on the doorstep.”
* * *
This might be the worst date I’ve ever been on, I mused as the officers escorted us silently down the gallery and out of the house.
Oh, I doubt that, Ethan said behind me.
That’s not flattering, Sullivan.
It wasn’t meant to insult you, but the boys you dated. Had any of them the guile to win you, they’d have done so. But seeing as you’re here with me . . .
Just stop there, I advised him, before you dig that hole any deeper.
“Put them in my car,” Detective Jacobs said to the uniforms. “I’ll take them back to the station.”
The cops looked at each other. “You don’t, uh, want us to go with you?” asked the one who held me, free hand on his club as if there was a possibility I’d take a swing at a cop.
“Unnecessary,” Jacobs said with a smile. “I’ve handled these two before.” He patted his coat as if he held a secret weapon there. “And I know just how to do it. I’ll even take care of the paperwork.”
“That’d actually be great,” said my cop, looking very relieved. “I’ve got a pile on my desk. I mean”—he glanced at his partner—“it’s not exactly protocol . . .”
“But, then,” Jacobs said, “neither is coming to the home of a millionaire to arrest vampires he’s apparently invited through the door.”
“He does have a point,” said Ethan’s cop. Ethan watched the discussion with amusement, apparently nonplussed about the fact that his arrest was the topic of conversation.
“If you could just get them into my car,” Jacobs prompted, and they nodded, opened the back door of a sedate gray sedan, gestured us inside. I squeezed in after Ethan, and they closed the door with a heavy thud.
“Twenty-eight years without so much as a speeding ticket,” I said, glancing at him, “and you get me arrested for trespassing.”
Ethan snorted. Jonah usually accompanied me during investigations, so Ethan didn’t often get the chance to do the fieldwork. He seemed to be enjoying it—both the highs and lows. Maybe he saw it as a break from administration and paperwork. Or maybe he just appreciated being my partner in the other sense of the word.
Jacobs gave parting instructions to the cops, climbed into the front seat. He watched as the uniforms drove away, then glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “You have anything to say for yourselves?”
Ethan smiled. “Can we throw ourselves on the mercy of the CPD?”
Jacobs humphed. “Now that we’re alone, would you like to tell me why you’re here in the middle of the night worrying Chuck Merit?”
I winced, but Ethan didn’t mince words. “There’s evidence Reed’s involved in the Circle. And considering his money, finances, connections, I’m guessing he’s at the helm.”
Jacobs, being a cop to the bone, didn’t so much as flinch. “What led you to that conclusion?”
My grandfather must not have filled him in on what the Ombuddies had found.
“Jeff and Catcher dug into Jude Maguire’s past,” Ethan said. “He’s actually Thomas O’Malley. O’Malley went off the radar several years ago, and Maguire took his place. Reed and Maguire went to college together. They’re friends; close ones. O’Malley was in Reed’s first wedding.”
Jacobs considered quietly. “That doesn’t link Reed to the Circle.”
“Not definitively,” Ethan agreed. “But he as much as admitted it in his office.”
“Admitted it, or as much as?” Jacobs asked.
Ethan nodded, taking his point. Reed hadn’t expressly said anything about being in the Circle.
Jacobs turned on the car. “We’ll look into it,” he said. “In the meantime, I recommend you stay away from Mr. Reed. Whether he’s part of the Circle or isn’t, he’s a very powerful man, as I’m sure he informed you. Your transportation?”
“Black Ferrari, one block north.”
Jacobs nodded. He eased the car onto the street, and after doing a figure eight around the block in case Reed was watching, pulled up in front of the Ferrari.
He glanced at Ethan in the rearview. “Perhaps, next time you decide to play junior detective, you’ll let one of us in on the investigation.”
I elbowed Ethan in the ribs.
Jacobs put the car in park, got out, and opened our doors, making a grand gesture as we climbed back to freedom.
“Don’t worry your grandfather,” he said to me. “I’ll talk to him. And do try to have a nice evening.”
* * *
We climbed into the Ferrari, and I, for one, was relieved to be leaving the neighborhood. At least until I pulled out my phone, found the waiting message from my father.
Reed had apparently gotten to him, too, and he was pissed.
“I cannot believe you. Your disrespect for yourself, for your family, for your grandfather, for me. To barge into a man’s home, to accuse him of wrongdoing, of all people. A trusted friend and business partner. To be escorted out by the police. What if there’d been reporters? Or a tourist with a camera? Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done to this family, to the Towerline project? We’re going to talk about this. We’re going to talk about this tonight.”