Page 101 of Rest In Pink

“I know but I was busy this morning.”

“You were busy last night. Mickey’s starting to unravel.”

“The scary part is he called Liz ‘Lizzie Blue,’ and he also called Peri ‘Peri Blue.’ He doesn’t like the Blues.”

“Things aren’t working out for him,” Rain understated. “That makes him even more dangerous. And that kid is still doing the fucking posts. Did you lock her up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s Burney. She’s not hurting anybody.”

“Damn, Vince. This is a murder investigation. She’s calling attention to herself.”

“I warned her. She doesn’t have anything Mickey wants. Listen, I’ve been thinking.”

“And?”

“I do think Mickey killed Thacker. But he’s not really the computer type. What if he grabbed the computer for someone else? Someone who wanted Thacker’s tell-all posts to stop? And wanted the book to never see the light of day?”

“Such as?”

“Lots of people,” I said. “Senator Wilcox. Cash Porter. Mayor O’Toole. Vermillion Inc.”

“Why would he do that for any of them?” Rain asked.

“Money.”

“It’s possible.”

“Did you see Skye Blue?” I asked.

“She wasn’t very helpful,” Rain said. “Yes, she gave Thacker information. She confirms the briefcase of cash from her dad to Senator Alex Wilcox. Make that plural. Said it happened several times. She also said that she saw bikers at the house, mainly Pete OneTree, a number of times. Sometimes bringing satchels of something. Most likely money. Other than that, she didn’t want to talk.”

“She knows more,” I said.

“I agree, but it was an interview at her pleasure and I couldn’t push it.”

“Speaking of money. My second discovery of the day.” I reached past the bag and retrieved the black briefcase. “This has been sitting at the bottom of the ravine for four months. Note the initials.”

“Navy Blue. Holy shit!” Then she frowned. “Four months? Any prints will be gone.”

So much for an attaboy. “Yep.”

“What’s in it?”

“It’s evidence,” I said. “But take a look.”

She reached out and pressed both small buttons. The latches clicked open. She opened the lid.

Banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills. And a green accounting ledger.

“You were right,” Rain said. “You were always troubled by Navy Blue’s death. This money means there was something more to it. You don’t carry that much cash around in a briefcase unless you’re paying for something you don’t want tracked. For Cash and the development?”

“The money Navy was funneling to Cash was done by bank transfers.” I pulled the bank statement from Navy’s car in my binder. I fished it out and ran my finger down the page. “On the day he died, there’s a withdrawal of one hundred thousand.”

Rain had already donned a pair of gloves and counted the stacks. “One hundred K,” she confirmed. She looked at the ledger. There were pages of notes and numbers and dates in the same longhand that made no sense. “What is this?”

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