BLACK in the Box (21 page)

“Where did you find the bag?”

“It was in a drawer.”

“Ah.”

She powered the computer on and tapped in some commands, and then inserted the flash drive into the port and downloaded the only folder on the system. When she was done, she removed it and slipped the bag off her hand.

“I presume you want to see what’s on it?”

“Good guess.”

Inside the office, she opened the file and nodded. “See the names?”

Black leaned into her and looked at the screen. “Alec and…ATM.”

They exchanged a glance. “Want to bet there are cameras capturing the checkout data and the ATM machine?” he asked. “What’s in the files?”

She tapped in another command and frowned. “This will take some time.”

“Can you open it?”

She treated him to a long-suffering sigh. “I thought by now you’d be tired of asking dumb questions. Just a matter of time.”

“Dare I ask how much?”

“As long as it takes.”

“You think it’s capturing the credit card data?”

“That would be my guess.”

“And selling it.”

“Brilliant, Dr. Obvioso.”

“Can you see when it was last accessed?”

“If you’ll stop pestering me.”

“This is where you tell me to leave?”

“Don’t you have any more cigarettes left?”

“I can bum one, I suppose.”

“I’ll call when I’m in.”

Black hesitated. “Were you serious about the flavored condoms?”

“Ew.”

“No, I’m just curious. I didn’t realize…”

“Leave me alone, boss.”

He walked to the door. “What will they think of next?”

“A boss who doesn’t talk?”

Black left Roxie to her work, grateful that she was still there, for all her truculence, doing all she could to help. He had no doubt she’d be able to crack the files, and saw no point in asking her how – he wouldn’t have understood the explanation anyway.

He limped slightly as he made his way to the cash registers and studied the overhead beams. It was too high, but he had no doubt there would be more cameras strategically positioned.

At least the mystery of how the killer knew Alec’s password had been solved. The files would confirm what he already knew in his gut. He checked the time and dialed Stan’s number.

“Colt. Speak.”

“Hey, buddy. It’s me.”

“I got that.”

“Guess what I found at the store?”

“A new outfit? A buy on insurance? A hearing aid?”

“Nope. Cameras.”

“You’re calling at this hour to tell me Home World stocks cameras?”

“No. Better.” Black explained his theory and what he’d discovered. When he was done, Stan let out a long whistle.

“Depending on where they’re selling the data, that could make it federal, not state or city.”

“Really? So the FBI?”

Stan ignored the question. “When will you know what’s in the files? They get kind of cranky if I start waking people up at three in the morning.”

Black scooted onto one of the high-back stools behind the cash registers and put his feet up on the counter, leaning back and stretching one arm over his head as he did so. “Soon. But that shines a new light on Bethany, doesn’t it?”

“Depends. Maybe she’s the perp and was selling the data. She’s a manager, right?”

“Supervisor. But yeah.”

“Can you find out if she has access to the receipts? If she does, it’s not so good from her perspective.”

Black stifled a yawn. “Stan, the laptop’s still locked up. If there are prints on it, it will either clear or convict her.”

“That occurred to me.”

“How soon can you get someone here to dust it?”

“I’ll need to coordinate with McCarthy and think about this a little. I don’t want to step on federal toes.”

“But it’s germane to your case.”

“And McCarthy’s.”

“Who has yet to call. At coming up on…” Black checked the time. “Closer to four than three, Stan.”

“I’ll get on the horn to him right now. This definitely ups the ante.”

Black glanced toward the rafters again as headlights swept through the glass front doors. A dark SUV pulled to a stop, and Larry emerged from the car, keys in hand, glaring at Black through the glass. Black dropped his feet from the counter and stood. “Stan, I’ve got to go. Client’s here.”

“Don’t say anything, Black. That’s evidence. For all you know, he could be in on this.”

That stopped Black cold. “Larry? No. He’s rich.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that expression? Behind every great fortune is a great crime. Don’t say a word. You have no idea what he’s into, buddy. Trust nobody.”

“That’s a little paranoid. I mean, he’s going to want to know what progress I’ve made.” Black hesitated. “Damn. He looks pissed.”

“Make something up.”

“Gotta run.”

Chapter 42

Larry fiddled with the front entrance lock and eventually got it open using his master key. He slid one of the glass doors to the side and stormed over to Black, who approached from the registers.

“What the hell are you doing lounging around out here when we’re running out of time?”

“I was on the phone with the police.”

“You work for me, Black, not the cops.” Larry was beet red.

Black figured the quickest way to disarm a confrontation was to change the topic. “Mary’s dead. Murdered,” he said, his voice flat.

The blood drained from Larry’s face. “What? How?”

“Remains to be seen, but at first glance, someone bashed her head in.”

Larry blinked twice. “Robbery? When did it happen?”

“Could be. Too soon to know. As to when, sometime between when she left here and now. Probably a few hours ago.”

Larry was silent, his eyes calculating, and then they drifted to Black’s injury. “What happened to you?”

“Pallets fell on me. I’m lucky I’m alive.”

“Here? How did that…”

“Looks like an accident. Someone backed a forklift into one of the stacks in the back, and I was in the wrong place at the right time.”

“Christ.”

Black’s gaze drifted to the SUV. “No Bentley?”

“Not at this hour. What progress have you made? We’re almost out of runway, Black.”

“I’m working a few angles. Bethany never called, so that’s not doing much in her favor.” Black eyed Larry. “How about you give me her cell and I reach out to her? Seeing as you’ve had no luck?”

Larry sighed and nodded. “Don’t expect her to be too excited to hear from you. We had a disagreement.”

“Over this?”

“No. Doesn’t matter. Here’s the number.” Larry read off the digits and Black entered them into his phone.

“Give me a second.” He placed the call, but it went to a generic voice mail. Black left a short message and hung up. “Nothing.”

“She’s probably asleep.”

“Right.”

“So what have you got?”

“Not good, Larry. The cops found meth at Mary’s.”

“Good Lord. I…I’d have never guessed.”

“And according to some of your workers, Alec was also using. I advised the police to run a screen on him to see if there’s any in his system – it would go a long way to establishing a connection between Mary and Alec if they both had the same habit. Obviously it might also cast doubt in a jury’s mind – unless Bethany also uses. Does she?”

“I’ve never seen her use meth. That doesn’t mean it’s impossible, though.”

Black could see the wheels turning in Larry’s head. “It also looks like Mary might have been embezzling from you, Larry. Not a ton, but it looks like she was cooking the books.”

“How do you know that?”

“They found some jewelry in her trunk.”

“Damn.” Larry paused. “Back to Bethany and Alec. Other than the meth angle, you dug up any possible suspects other than her?”

“Not yet. But I’m following some promising leads.”

“Like?”

“At this stage, I’d rather not say.”

Larry’s stare turned hard. “I’m paying for the privilege. What have you got?”

“That’s not how I work, Larry. You put money in one end, I give you a report when I’m done. Which, as you’ve pointed out, is rapidly approaching, so I need to get back to work.”

“That’s not acceptable.”

“Look. There’s a lot going on here – a lot of people to interview, and everyone’s a suspect. I’m going to need three or four more hours. That’s the deal.” Black returned the older man’s obstinate glare. “And it’s not helping that you refused to cooperate with the computer system. You tied one hand behind my back and expect me to win the fight. Bethany hasn’t gotten in touch, I’m flying blind with the computers…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Black. I saw from home that someone’s accessing the network. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I had to get in, Larry. For your own good.”

“You disobeyed my direct instruction not to. I should fire your ass on the spot.”

“You’re free to do so, Larry. I could use the sleep.”

Larry shook his head. “Like I said before, concentrate on the murder. I don’t want you nosing around in my systems. That you decided to ignore my wishes pisses me off a whole boatload, Black. I’m about done with you telling me what you’re going, and not going, to do. Stay out of my accounting. If that’s not crystal clear, you can leave now.”

“Oh, I hear you. Besides, I’m about done with that. I’ll include my findings in my report and you can decide how you want to handle it.”

“What findings?”

“Like I said – you’ll get a report. Now, are we done here, or should I pack up and leave?”

Larry’s expression grew more sullen. “You’re treading on thin ice, Black.”

“I’m used to it, Larry.”

“Fine. Call me when you’re finished.”

“Oh, and your security guard is going to bill you for a new jacket.” Black explained about Mugsy.

“Why would I pay for that?”

“I was thinking it was a fair trade, considering the pallet collapse.”

Larry swallowed hard. “You’re okay, right?”

“Got a headache, but I’ll live.”

“All right. I’m out of here. Stop screwing around and find the killer.” He eyed Black skeptically. “Tell you what – you find evidence that exonerates Bethany, or at least guarantees they can’t pin it on her, I’ll double your pay.”

“That’s very generous, Larry. I’ll take you up on it.”

“I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is. So now the question is, can you deliver?” Larry marched off, done with the discussion, his offer made and accepted. Black watched him go and turned to face the store.

“Easier said than done, Larry. Easier said than done.”

Chapter 43

Black wandered the Home World aisles, calling Mugsy’s name without much hope. The cat was obviously ignoring him, and probably enjoying the much-needed sleep that Black was missing. His thoughts raced at the implications of a credit-card-skimming operation in the store and what it might mean for Alec’s case, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether Mary hadn’t also been involved in some way. Wasn’t it now possible that she had planted the axe in Alec’s back, rather than Bethany? That would certainly be the way a decent defense attorney would spin it – the classic tactic of BTDG: Blame The Dead Guy. It was essentially non-disprovable and would more than qualify as a good punt strategy. But it was a far cry from absolute clearance of guilt.

The only way that would happen was if Black could find another murderer and ironclad proof of his or her being the killer. At the moment, the chances of that were teetering between awful and nonexistent. Whether or not the BTDG evidence of a credit-card-skimming scheme would qualify for Larry’s double-the-money offer was debatable, although Black would certainly argue it did, especially if he could convince McCarthy that it was pointless to charge Bethany given the reasonable doubt introduced by Mary’s possible involvement.

The only way it wouldn’t work was if Bethany’s prints were on the laptop. In that case, it would be another nail in her coffin. Black had no dog in the fight, but he hoped that she wasn’t a party to it, because if she was, she’d be spending her life in prison. While it wasn’t proof positive, it would be tough to argue, because there would be the motive – assuming Alec was also in on it. Of course, there were also more damaging ways to spin the findings: Alec had to be silenced because he’d tripped to it being an obvious one.

As with the drugs, the defense was also an indictment, if Bethany was a part of it.

The cops would likely want to search Bethany’s place for stolen contraband, and if there wasn’t any, that would work in her favor. Of course, it didn’t exonerate her, but it would introduce doubt into their minds that she was the killer. The question was whether the DA would feel it was worth rolling those dice with a jury. Black knew it could go either way in a sensational case involving a comely suspect in a gruesome murder. That would sell papers and, perhaps more importantly, could make or break a career.

Black felt in his pocket for his crushed cigarettes and paused by a trash can. He shook the remaining decent one into his hand and studied it closely. Thankfully it looked serviceable. He tossed the empty pack into the garbage and continued to the rear of the building. The employee exit area was deserted as he opened the door and stepped outside, taking care to wedge it open with the wood block left inside for that purpose.

Three men sat in a Buick Regal in the darkest corner of the parking lot, waiting for their target to show. The steel door opened, and a man in a stylized suit stepped out to smoke. The driver grinned at the rearview mirror and nodded.

“That’s him.”

The passengers, both Asian, opened the doors and got out, carrying baseball bats held close to their bodies, their clothes baggy and shapeless, their tennis shoes soundless on the pavement. They moved unhurriedly with a jail-yard swagger; the errand was routine for them as members of the Green Dragon gang that controlled drug distribution to the street dealers in that part of Long Beach, Seal Beach, and Westminster. Both had rap sheets stretching back to their teen years, as well as scars to prove their seasoned underworld status.

Black looked up as two youths approached from the darkness, and his internal alarm was sounding when the taller of the pair brandished an aluminum bat.