2:11 a.m.
“VICTOR? GOOD, you’re up.”
“What’s up, boss?”
Cooper wasn’t surprised Victor Suarez was awake in the middle of the night. A true surprise would have been finding Victor asleep or—even more shocking—out somewhere enjoying himself.
“Can you shake down an address for me?”
“Sure,” Victor replied. “Just as soon as you stop talking like a 1950s private eye.”
“Be kind to your favorite employer. I’ve had a rough day.”
“Mickey Bernstein, right?”
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what? Mickey’s been the puzzle piece that hasn’t fit this whole time. I figured you’d eventually want to go knocking on his door. Okay, got a pen?”
“Hang on. You found it that easily? What, do you have access to the home addresses of all Philly cops?” Cooper knew quite a few guys on the force, and they were super-cautious about any scraps of personal information leaking out on the internet. They often came to him looking for the name of a good web cleaner, a high-tech private eye (of sorts) who would scrub all traces of them off the web. Not that this helped them when dealing with a specialist like Victor Suarez.
There was a strange sound on the other end of the line, like an elephant clearing its throat. Cooper quickly realized this was the sound of Victor Suarez laughing.
“Good one, boss.”
“Whatever. Let me have the address.”
“You want the rundown on his wife and kids too?”
Cooper knew Victor was kidding. At least, he hoped he was kidding.