“Tell me.”
“I don’t have to prove myself to you or anyone else. I don’t care what you think. All I care about is bringing down Adorno, the man who had my mother and the man who was like a father to me killed. Before they can hurt my men.”
“Then what the hell are we standing here yapping about? Show me what you got, tell me what you know and let’s make a plan.
“You need to eat first and I need more coffee.” She heads to the kitchen. “There’s a notebook on the edge of the counter. While I cook, you start talking and writing. Let’s start with the two weeks before your mother was killed.”
CHAPTER 17
Fancy
An hour later I have a whole new understanding of Roja than what I first suspected. Although she’s an awful cook, I managed to swallow a couple bites of overcooked scrambled eggs and finish a slice of burnt toast that, with enough peanut butter, was palatable. Sort of.
Her mind is like a kaleidoscope, shifting and twisting each new piece of information, looking at it from all angles then coming up with an image I never expected.
“So your mom was getting worried about her age and how long she could keep turning tricks.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, you said she turned forty-six. Her primary john recently gave her to his cousin. She hadn’t had a lot of success finding new clients at the clubs where she worked as a stripper or hung out. She kept changing her makeup every couple of weeks, her hair color each month, and ordered and returned at least two new wardrobes. You caught her doing Kegel exercises and she had a recent appointment for breast assessment. She was scared. She wanted stability.”
Slamming my coffee mug on the counter I stare her down. “Then why didn’t she go back to Phil? The man was still besotted with her even after she treated him like shit.”
“Because she treated him like shit. She rolled him for a bigger fish and going back to him would have been a step backward in her mind. She’d been with a top dog. She couldn’t settle for less. Her ego would take a hit. But she wasn’t getting younger. She needed security. Tell me about the days leading up to her last night again. You heard her arguing on the phone with someone about a key before she left.”
“Keychain. I think she was talking to DeStefano but I’m not sure. She said something like, ‘babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What is a gold ingot anyway? I haven’t seen a key chain laying around. That new housekeeper was cleaning. Did you ask her?’
“Which I can tell you was bullshit. Mom knew what a gold ingot was. She asked Phil for one at Christmas a couple years ago.”
“Keychain. Gold. Ingot.” Roja looks at me. I swear I see wheels turning. “You can buy a gold-plated flash drive that resembles an ingot. Would your mother know what a flash drive was?”
“No.”
“So, hypothetically, let’s say your mother did see one and lifted it thinking it was real gold. Did she have any hiding places at the house or otherwise that you know of? Like a safety deposit box? Or did Phil have one she knew about?”
“No….” Oh shit. Leaving the kitchen, I rush to the bedroom and my backpack. Pulling out the lockbox, I key in the code, open it and place the pictures to the side. I feel Roja behind me.
“Mom didn’t have a lock box, but I had one that Phil gave to me. I found it out of place a few months after she died. I just thought it shifted when I opened the trapdoor. I always use thesame numbers for codes, on my phone, the door lock. She was good at picking that kind of information up. Phil had to change his code for his checking account on a regular basis. I should have known better.”
“Well, well, well, aren’t you a bundle of surprises,” she says, reaching around me and removing my Sig P365. Pulling it from the clip holster, she checks for a magazine. “Yours?”
“Phil gave it to me and taught me how to use it when I turned twenty-one. I’ve never carried it. But it was at home if I ever needed it. He worried. Mom would sometimes bring random clients home. One got pushy with me. I think Phil handled it because the guy never came back. But Phil wanted me to be able to protect myself. Magazines are under the false bottom.”
“I’m liking you better and better, girl. You may have potential.”
Since she already knows about the weapon, I dump the contents on the bed. As I’m pushing things around, I notice an unfamiliar coin envelope. Hand shaking, I reach for it. Unclasping the top, I tip the opening toward my open palm.
A gold ingot with a key chain attached to the corner slides out.
“Don’t touch it. They may be able to get fingerprints. Drop it on the bed.” Reaching into the side of her cargo pants, Roja pulls out a very thin bladed knife. Using the tip she examines the bar. “See this? I think that’s the lever for a flash drive. We need to get this to the right people. Hmmm. But who could that be. Don’t touch anything else. Take pictures with your phone. I’m calling Diego.”
Thirty minutes later she tells me a special courier is on the way to pick it up. “Why not the police or the feds?”
“Diego was a cop. His wife is in internal affairs here in Vegas. Local law enforcement has had a few issues of their own. They’re still cleaning house.
“Rico and Kade are DEA. This should be their find, but I’m not sure the best way to protect it until they get back. An expert needs to inspect it to make sure the device doesn’t have a self-destruct. Diego and I know a guy who could do it, but again, proper protocol.”
After taking pictures, she has me use the tip of her knife to slide it back into the envelope.
