Randy went on like that for a while until Jenkins finally cut him off with a frown. When Randy took his place beside me again, I elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, “Told you, you shouldn’t do that.”
Then the questions began, and it quickly became clear to everybody in the room that Jenkins didn’t understand most of the details. The reporters began asking Randy instead, and he did know most of the details. Even so, he kept asking me to speak up.
My problem was, I didn’t have the gift of gab. I began to stutter for the first time in my life. Luckily, Randy ended up giving most of the answers.
Sarah did most of the talking for the District Attorney’s Office. As I expected, her comments were polished and concise.
Jenkins thrilled me by ending the press conference before the reporters were finished asking questions. Most of the government folks stuck around to chat more informally, but I bolted and headed home.
Before I lost my cell signal, I talked to Willow. She was overflowing with praise, and that warmed my heart. I was most interested in her opinions and Skip’s. She’d seen the CNN version of the presser, so I didn’t need to tell her much.
By that point, I was exhausted. Just hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately, and my energy boost from adrenaline had dissipated. I stopped by Sally’s place long enough to grab Boomer and Rambo and thank her profusely for taking care of them.
We made it back to the cabin, and it was intact, thank God. A friend had been kind enough to nail plywood over the openings for my picture windows.
Boomer did his business quickly for once, and while he did, I fed my horse an extra ration of oats to welcome him home again.
Once I was inside, I took off my uniform and prosthetic then plopped on the bed. Was out within seconds.
-o-o-o-
The mutt and I headed into the office early. I was determined to figure out the last piece of the mystery. Who of the twelve was working inside the group?
My office voicemail box had overflowed again, and it took me a while to discard the calls from reporters and listen to the others. Most importantly, Mom had called again. I hoped that meant she wanted to restart our relationship—something I couldn’t stop dreaming about. No matter how old I got, I still needed to be able to talk to her and see her.
I called, and hearing her voice turned me all squishy and excited inside, like a kid at Christmas. I promised her I was fine, and we agreed again to meet for lunch as soon as I wrapped up my case.
Then I turned to my email. Over a hundred new messages since Saturday night. Again, the majority were from news media types, and I deleted those unread. Reviewed the messages from friends and colleagues like Carlos. He congratulated me for finding the connection to Lomax.
Eventually, I found an email from someone named Jim Renault at LASD’s crime lab. His message said:
We checked all four phones collected. Only one was used to communicate with someone in Aspen. No calls, all texts. Seven in early June and eleven within the last several days. All messages are in some kind of code. The same code was apparently used on the three other phones that the Crips used to communicate with various people in California, Phoenix, and Denver. The attached file contains copies of all messages sent by any of the phones. You will probably need the assistance of someone skilled with ciphers. The extra data ought to help them figure out the messages you care about. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.
This sounded like something right up Willow’s alley. Weren’t computer programs just a series of codes?
I called her right away, using her VPN on my phone. After exchanging a few terms of endearment, I read her the message from Jim Renault.
“Perfect,” she said. “The fact that Lomax was communicating recently with someone in Aspen means one of the rappers must have a phone at the B&B. I know you checked the bedrooms, but you were outfoxed. Is that the correct expression? The device is there somewhere. Maybe it has fingerprints on it.”
The outfoxed crack stung, but I couldn’t argue. “Right you are. Even if the phone’s been wiped clean, there’s a good chance my mutt can tell me who used it. I’ll send you the data Jim forwarded to me. See what you can make of it.”
She beamed. “I’ve always loved cracking codes and ciphers, since I was a small child. Some girls played with dolls. I preferred puzzles. Stay safe, my love.”
After I sent her the file, I went to find Randy and explained why I wanted to search the B&B from top to bottom.
“Small problem. The boss thinks the case is over,” Randy said.
“Maybe we’ve found all the accomplices we can, but aren’t we going to look like idiots if the rogue rapper kills another contestant?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, could be embarrassing. You, Skip, and Linda should turn the place again. The thing is, I don’t want any word getting out to reporters about that. If you find something, we’ll figure out how to deal with it. I’ll clear this with Jenkins.”
Chapter 29
To make sure we weren’t outwitted again, I grabbed Skip and Linda, and we developed a plan to make sure whatever happened at the B&B stayed at the B&B. Then we headed over.
One blessing was that Tyrone and his crowd kept late hours. The owner was starting to make breakfast, and none of her guests had come downstairs.
I asked her, “When does your trash go out?”
She started. “My word! What an odd question. Let’s see…I collect the trash from each room every day, including the kitchen. I take it to the dumpster in the alley, and the trash company picks it up on Fridays.”
With any luck, the mole on the show hadn’t heard about Lomax or tried to get rid of the phone yet. Otherwise, we’d have to dumpster dive. That was always nasty.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. “First, we’ll search the kitchen, dining room, and the closest bathroom. Then, as folks come down, they can grab their food and eat in the dining room.”
Her eyes opened wide. “What are you looking for?”
I didn’t want to take a chance on anyone hearing it from her. “The Holy Grail.”
-o-o-o-
We searched the kitchen quickly. Our hands were double gloved to minimize the chance of contaminating any communications device we found. To search behind large pieces of furniture and equipment, we used a telescoping wand with a small mirror attached to it.
Boomer spent his time mooching from the owner who loved dogs.
No phones were hidden in the kitchen, dining room, or the closest bathroom.
Alex Rivera happened to be working the early shift, and I knew I could trust him. I took him out in the backyard to speak privately. Without getting into too many details, I told him we were looking for a hidden cellphone. In particular, we wanted to make sure no one could sneak it from one part of the house to another. He was happy to restrict everybody to certain rooms and keep them there.
As each person wandered downstairs to eat, Skip or I searched them, depending on their sex. Several of the rappers whined about civil rights, but they knew Tyrone would back us up.
By the time everyone was eating breakfast, Skip, Linda, and I’d searched the entire downstairs. We even checked the front and back yards. Boomer mostly got in the way, as usual.
A sinking feeling began to settle inside me. If we didn’t find the device at the B&B or the dumpster, we were fucked. This was our last chance to deliver complete justice.
I dragged Tyrone into his office, locked the door, and described our plan to find the hidden device.
As usual, he couldn’t have been more helpful. “Whatever you want, girl. I’m ready to name my firstborn after you.”
“Henry for a boy would be fine, I wouldn’t wish the name Henrietta on any girl. You need to help Alex keep everybody together while we go through the entire second floor and attic. Fair warning, we plan to check your room, too.”
“No problem. You look everywhere. I’m fucking fed up about this traito
r in our group.”
Skip, Linda, Boomer, and I headed upstairs, me bringing up the rear. We started searching in the common areas because we’d already checked the bedrooms once. I began with the dark and dusty laundry room, which the B&B’s owner also used for storage. With my mirror on a wand and a flashlight, I peered into potential hiding places up high. Boomer went crazy sniffing God only knew what. The dog was so frantic he began baying.
I found nothing suspicious, so I got down on my knees and used the mirror to check under a large industrial washing machine. Nope. I was getting damned tired of striking out.
Then, I looked under the matching dryer. Bingo! We have a winner!
A cellphone lay on the floor under the dryer, tucked back a foot. Using the wand, I managed to nudge the phone closer. It was the only thing in sight not covered with dust.
A thrill of excitement shot through me so heady I almost passed out.
I fitted one evidence bag inside another and used them to pick up the phone without touching it. Then I tucked it into a small duffel bag I’d brought along to carry my gear.
When the mutt and I found Linda on her knees in a supply closet, I was so giddy I couldn’t speak without laughing.
She took one look at me and beamed. “I know you. Either you found it or won the Powerball. It’s over five hundred million bucks this week.”
“Okay, it’s not quite as good as winning the lottery. But yeah, we found the Holy Grail.”
I opened my bag and showed it to her.
She started giggling, and it was infectious. We were a couple of twelve-year-old girls with a new puppy. Both of us hurried to find Skip. He was thrilled. This was the most excited I’d been in years. I needed a life outside the office.
The phone didn’t have any obvious prints on it, and I assumed whoever was using it was smart enough to wipe it off each time they finished reading a text. I didn’t want to dust it for fingerprints in case the smell threw off Boomer’s nose. That meant everything depended on him. That thought sent a chill of fear through me.
-o-o-o-
Skip, Linda, and I sat together in the dining room and whispered as we finalized our plan. Next, I texted Willow with the news that we’d found a phone, and it was very likely the one used by the Crips. She opened up a video chat. Her beaming smile took my breath away. “C'est magnifique!” she said. “I knew you’d find it.”
Linda and Skip looked at me with puzzled expressions. I probably should’ve warned them that I had a beautiful techie on speed dial. “Any luck with the code?” I asked Willow.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s a substitution cipher, relatively simple.”
I looked at the other two. Their blank faces told me they didn’t understand what she meant either. But we didn’t have to, as long as Willow could unscramble the messages.
“We’ll rely on you to translate,” I said. “How quickly can you do it?”
She grinned. “Give me two hours. I should have all the messages back and forth from Aspen deciphered by then.”
“Fantastic!” I said. “We’ll check back later.”
Linda stared at me. “Who’s the redhead, and what’s going on?”
The edge to her voice woke up Boomer, who’d been sleeping near me. He did his customary freak out. Saved by the dog.
When he settled down again, I said, “Linda, trust me about Willow. For once, we’ve got a chance to run the table.”
Chapter 30
I carried my duffel bag in one hand and the dog’s leash in the other as I entered the old ballroom Tyrone was using for their breakout sessions. My bodycam was on. Skip and Linda stayed out of sight in the hallway with their video cameras operating, too.
After entering the room, I closed the door behind me. “Okay, kiddies, it’s showtime!”
They all stared at me like I’d grown a second head. The mutt and I strode to a stage on the far side of the room. The contestants used the platform from time to time to perform for the others, and this was where the sing-off later tonight would take place. It only stood a foot off the floor, but I felt a bit awkward as I climbed up there.
“Tyrone, if you would please have the contestants stand in a semicircle in front of me on the ballroom floor, spaced an arm’s length apart.”
He didn’t have to say a word. They arranged themselves, their backs to the door. The mutt stood next to me wagging his tail. He had no idea what was going on, but he somehow realized fun times were in the offing.
Time to find out. “Okay, this is one of those good news-bad news situations. The good news is I know the identities of the two men most responsible for killing Splendiferous Wang. They are Denzel Lomax, a Crips leader in Compton, California. He died in a shootout with police yesterday. His main partner, Reggie Samson, is a Crips boss in Denver. Samson’s in jail now and will probably stay there for the rest of his life. That may not be for long because the Denver DA is seeking the death penalty.”
I paused and stared at each of them. The pisser was, I still couldn’t figure out who was going to join Samson in prison. “The bad news is, one of you helped them from the inside of this B&B, and that makes you equally guilty.”
Again, I paused and scanned the competitors. They all looked back at me as though curious but not afraid. I was terrible at reading people.
“Okay, here’s my last and final offer. We’re willing to give the guilty party an opportunity to do the right thing. If you confess now and cooperate with my office, the county prosecutors are willing to promise you’ll serve no more than twenty years. He’s also open to the possibility of considering even less time for good cause shown. Like if you really were forced against your will to help the Crips, you may not have to serve any time at all.”
I’d talked to Sarah, and she’d suggested the deal to eliminate any possible doubt about who was responsible. She also knew Boomer very well. Didn’t trust him to come through when the stakes were this high. My queasy stomach told me I wasn’t all that confident in him either.
The guilty party kept his or her mouth firmly shut. My level of frustration grew. “Last and final chance to help yourself. Going once…going twice…and gone.”
Tough crowd. “Let’s quit pussyfooting around. Time for somebody to cry, cry, cry. Most of you will never guess what I found upstairs a few minutes ago.”
Their eyes opened wider.
I took the cellphone out of my duffel bag and held the sealed evidence bags with my thumb and forefinger. “This looks like an ordinary phone, and it probably is, but somebody here used it to text with Lomax and the Crips in Compton. Of course, we have all those texts. They were coded, but our expert made short work of that. Somebody here is in a whole fucking lot of trouble.”
Nobody seemed ready to break. I was never going to make it as a mind reader or poker player. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need to, unless I got fired because my dog fucked up the only thing he was good at.
“I’ve carefully kept the phone inside two bags to lock in the scent for my pal Boomer here. Did you know a bloodhound’s nose is forty times better than yours or mine?”
One last time, I scanned everybody’s face without any of them screaming out a confession. I’d hoped that my long windup would work on a guilty conscience. Nope, they were going to play their hand to the end.
I used a pen knife to open the sealed bags and let Boomer stick his big fat nose inside. He knew how this game was played. His tail wagged like mad as he anticipated eating a bag full of his favorite treat, Ol’ Bob’s Steaky Chunks.
“Find the person, buddy!”
A hundred and thirty pounds of lunatic hound launched himself off the stage onto the hardwood floor. His feet practically slid out from under him on the varnished surface, but his legs kept churning until he got a grip.
Then Boomer sniffed the air a couple of times then made a beeline for Michelle Mobutu, the woman from Baltimore. With a yelp, she turned and ran for the door. The dog let out an ear-splitting ba
y. The thrill of the chase excited me as much as him.
Michelle reached the door, opened it, and bolted through…right into Linda’s arms. Skip grabbed Boomer and hugged him.
I applauded as I stepped awkwardly off the stage and headed for the door. Everybody else in the room stood frozen, dumbfounded. What a mutt.
We’d identified the guilty insider. “Tyrone! My work here is done!”
He looked down and shook his head.
“For all the performers,” I said, “I wish you all the best of luck tonight. I’ll be watching it on TV, along with everybody in the country.”
Boomer scarfed down his bag of dog treats in seconds.
-o-o-o-
Michelle broke into sobs as Linda cuffed her and led her out of the B&B. I Mirandized her as we walked. All of us recorded everything. We were going strictly by the book.
When I asked if Michelle understood her rights, she said, “Lomax made me—”
I put up my hand to stop her. “All I want to know is whether you understand your rights.”
“Yes!” she yelled at me. “He forced me to give him information. I didn’t want to do it. I liked Wang.”
“Then, why didn’t you go to the cops, or at least Tyrone?” I asked. “Both would’ve helped you escape Lomax.”
“That just put me back in the Baltimore slums. I needed this show.”
“Bottom line,” I said. “You liked Splendiferous, but your eagerness for fame and money meant much more.”
Too late, she realized she didn’t have a good response.
“I want a lawyer.”
We took her to an interrogation room at the sheriff’s office and arranged for still another public defender.
Even though she’d been cold-hearted to her supposed friend, I was sympathetic to her predicament. Lomax had literally owned her.
But Willow called me. “I’m still reviewing the texts,” she said, “but one shocked me. Shortly after Luther sent his stupid message about you harassing him, Michelle texted the Crips, An Aspen cop is after us. She’s at Luther’s apartment. Get rid of her!”
His Song Silenced Page 20
