Page 69 of Dead Man's List

“Each of us had a piece of the pie,” she said, “so none of us could betray the others and steal it all.”

“No trust among thieves,” Connor murmured. “How long had this been going on?”

“Eight years. Before Brooks was first elected to the city council.”

“Why was it so important for Munro to be on the council?” Connor asked. “It’s just the city council.”

Veronica sighed wearily. “To you, maybe. You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Brooks and I didn’t. He wanted to be a U.S. senator. To have respect.”

“So he stole to get it.”

The woman lifted a shoulder. “Not like he was the first to do that.”

Connor frowned. “That doesn’t make it right. How much money are we talking about?”

“It varied.”

“Guess,”Connor snapped.

“I would go to the Caymans when I had a half mil saved up.”

“So ten trips means five million dollars. Not as much as I thought, especially not split three ways.”

“Split into quarters,” she said, looking twenty years older than she had that morning. “I don’t know where the others put their money.”

“That’s more like it,” Connor said. “You said quarters. Is there a fourth partner or did you all take a different percentage?”

Veronica slowly shook her head. “No fourth partner. Brooks got half. The PI and I each got a quarter.”

“Didn’t that make you angry?”

“Only a little. Brooks was taking the risks. The PI and I were faceless. The targets knew only that Brooks held their secrets. So he got a bigger percentage of the take.”

“If you kept track of the money and never met the PI, how did he get his cut?”

“Brooks gave it to him. I’d prepare the accounting statement and give Brooks seventy-five percent of the take—his and the PI’s share. I only knew the targets by a number. Brooks knew the numbers and the names. The PI only knew the names.”

“So you’d put a million and a half dollars in a suitcase and hand it to Munro?”

She frowned. “Where did you get—? Oh. I said I’d save up a half mil before going to the Caymans. That took me several months to save up. I paid out the funds every month to Brooks, who then paid the PI. Like I said, I don’t know where they hid theirs.”

“How did your blackmail victims pay you?” Connor was asking.

“Cash. Nonsequential fifties. Left in a storage locker.”

“Where was the storage locker?” Connor asked.

“Only Brooks and I had a key, but it was too risky for Brooks to check. That was my job.”

“He trusted you one helluva lot.”

“He did.”

“Why?”

“We were lovers,” she said bitterly. “As you said.”

“Had to have been more than that. Where was the storage locker?”

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