by Jennie Marts
“So this Jimmy worked for one of these guys?”
“Not these guy—the guy. There’s one main dude that kind of controls the show in Pleasant Valley.”
“And you know this guy? Who is he? What’s his name?”
“Um—well let’s just call him John.” Scooter looked across the table at John. “Wait, sorry dude, that’s your name. Okay, let’s call him Leon—wait—shit—that really is his name.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.
“It doesn’t matter,” Zoey said, although she tucked the name Leon away in her mind. “I don’t know anyone in the marijuana business at all. Except you, I guess.” She gave Bruiser a small bite of her cookie. “So now we know who the dead guy is, but that doesn’t explain why he would come after me. What could he possibly want with me?”
“No clue. That’s all I know.” Scooter held up his plate. “Good pizza. Mind if I have another piece?”
Hmmm. She somehow doubted that was all that he knew. She pushed back from the table and set Bruiser on the floor. “I’m going to call Mac and fill him in.”
“Leave my name out of it,” Scooter said.
“No problem.” She somehow thought Scooter was probably not his actual name anyway. She slipped into the guest room and called Mac. Her heart raced as she waited for him to pick up.
“Hey Zoey. You all right?”
The deep tone of his voice shot straight through her, and she practically swooned at the concern in his tone.
Geez. Pull yourself together girl. This isn’t the seventeenth century. She needed to keep her swooning in check. Mac wasn’t a knight in shining armor, he was a cop, and probably sounded concerned about a lot of people.
As much as that was true, she still sort of saw him as her knight, her protector. And just imagining him swooping her up onto his horse and riding off with her almost took her breath away.
“Zoey? You there? Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.” She really needed to get her fantasies under control. Or at least save them for later. “I’m here. I’m fine. I just wanted to tell you we met a guy who knows Jimmy Two-Fingers.”
“Where did you meet a guy like that? What’s your grandmother got you mixed up in now? Are you at a biker bar?”
She laughed. “No, I’m at Edna’s house. It’s a guy she knows from her community theater. But he’s also somehow involved in the recreational marijuana business and recognized Jimmy Two-Fingers.” She felt so silly saying his name—like she was in a bad mafia flick. “Apparently he serves—or served—as muscle for the head guy in charge of the majority of the marijuana trade here in Pleasant Valley.”
“Yeah, I’ve figured some of that out. I’ve been working on digging up information on Jimmy and how he might be connected to you.”
“Did you come up with anything?”
“Not really. Not yet.”
“Well, I guess the main guy’s name is Leon.”
“Leon Molloy?”
“Maybe. I don’t know his last name, but surely there aren’t that many Leons that are running recreational marijuana businesses.”
“All of this recreational shop stuff is still pretty new, especially here in Pleasant Valley, so we keep a close watch on what’s happening with it. Leon’s got a shop on the west side of town, and the parking lot is always crowded. So far, he seems all above board, and his business seems legit.”
“Then why does he need muscle like Jimmy?”
“There is a lot of money in marijuana. I mean a lot. Those businesses can bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash a day.”
“In cash? A day?” She had no idea.
“Yeah, and since it’s only legal in certain states and not federally, the banks won’t open accounts for them or set up credit card machines. So they have tons of cash and no banks to deposit it in. And it’s no secret they have massive amounts of cash on site, so they’ve got to run tight security because their risk of being robbed is enormous.”
“So where do I fit in to all of this? I’m just a lowly accountant.”
“But you’re an accountant for a large financial advisory firm that invests large sums of money for corporations.”
“A firm that’s been laundering money through a series of dummy corporations.”
“That’s got to be it. It makes sense that Leon would be using a finance company that may have less than stellar scruples to run some of that cash through.”
She grinned. “You’re pretty good at this detective stuff.” Her face warmed as her mind went to what other things he might be good at.
He chuckled, and the sound of his low laughter did funny things to her insides. “Well, so far it’s all just speculation. We’ve got to find an actual connection between Leon and the Cavellis.”
“Pleasant Valley’s a pretty small town. I’ll talk to the Page Turners and see if they know of anything. It seems like around here, someone always knows somebody’s aunt or their cousin lives next door to or they dated their brother in high school.”
“Well, I’d say not to involve them, but if I know your grandmother, she’s probably already made seventeen calls. Just tell them that if they do ask around, to keep it pretty quiet and don’t give any details. We don’t want to tip our hat that we suspect any connection to Molloy.”
“Okay, that makes sense.”
“All right, I’m going to get to work on my side. I’ll let you know if I find anything out.” He paused. “I was thinking maybe I’d stop by Edna’s on my way home, if you think that would be okay. Just to check on you.”
She smiled again. She couldn’t have kept that smile off her face if she tried. “I’d like that.”
He cleared his throat, and his voice switched back to business tone. “All right then. I’ll see you later. My shift goes late tonight, so it will probably be closer to eight or nine when I get over there. Is that too late?”
“That would be perfect.”
“See you then.”
Butterflies tickled her stomach as she clicked off the phone. She felt like a teenager with a crush. But no teenage boy she remembered had the broad shoulders and muscled physique of Officer McCarthy.
She wondered if she should have told him about their undercover mission into Cavelli Commerce today. They hadn’t really found anything, and it would probably only make him worry. Better to tell him about it tonight. In person. When he stopped by.
She checked her watch as she headed back toward the kitchen. They had several hours before he showed up. Surely the Page Turners could uncover a few things about this Leon guy by then.
Chapter Nine
Mac ran a hand across his head in frustration.
He knew there had to be something here. Some kind of connection between the Cavellis and Leon Molloy. It made perfect sense that the marijuana mogul would need a financial advisory company that would be willing to bend the rules to help him deal with his abundance of cash.
But what made sense and what he could actually prove were two very different factors.
The two odd links in the chain were Zoey and Teddy Grimes. The two accountants that worked for the Cavellis but were being hunted by Leon’s head muscle. They had to be the connections. They had to be the ones who could somehow connect the financial dots that would harm both sides.
Not for the first time that day, he wished he could find Ted Grimes. He’d had his dispatcher calling hospitals and clinics around Zoey’s apartment since that morning asking if they’d seen anyone fitting Ted’s description or the description of the injury. But Denver was a big city, and even as she’d widened her search she’d come up with nothing.
Either someone was covering for him, or he’d gone into hiding with someone helping him that might have medical skills.
Or there was one other alternative—that Teddy was dead. That he’d been killed at Zoey’s apartment and was now wearing cement shoes and sinking to the bottom of Chatfield Reservoir. But he wasn’t ready to give up on the burly accountant yet. He’d prom
ised Zoey that he would keep looking for him.
And he knew the guys in the Denver PD were looking for him, too. They’d had a couple of uniforms canvassing the neighborhoods around both of Zoey’s and Teddy’s homes.
They’d had a couple of hits—a neighbor had seen Teddy pull out of the garage around one that morning, and a shop owner on Zoey’s street thought he saw a guy matching Teddy’s description come out of her apartment building and head east on foot. If the shop owner was correct, then at least that meant Ted left Zoey’s apartment alive. But so far, no one had come up with anything solid to lead them to his whereabouts.
“Hey, Officer Asshole. You want some coffee?”
Mac recognized the voice and looked up into the grinning face of Patrick Callahan. He was holding two takeout cups from Pleasant Valley Perks, and Mac reached out to take one. “Hey, Detective Dick-less. What the heck are you doing in my station?”
Pat lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “What? Can’t a guy visit an old friend in his home town?”
Mac offered him a wry grin. “Not when he just saw that old friend this morning. What’s up? Did you get a lead on the case?” Maybe their hunch about Leon was correct, and Pat was in town to check up on him.
Patrick sat on the corner of Mac’s desk and took a sip of his coffee. “Damn. They still make pretty good coffee over at the Perk. And did you know Stacy Hayes works over there? Remember her from Algebra? I think she was a cheerleader. Heard she’s divorced now, but she still looks good.”
Mac took a sip of coffee, trying to hold his patience with his old friend. “So, besides the coffee and the good-looking staff at the Perk, what are you doing in town?”
“I had a few follow-up questions for your friend, Zoey Allen. They ID’d the stiff at her apartment, and I thought I’d show her some mug shots—see if it triggered any memories about how she knows the guy.”
“She doesn’t know him. I already showed her a photo of Jimmy Two-Fingers, and she didn’t recognize him. Apparently he was muscle for a local guy that runs the recreational weed parlor in the Valley. A guy named Leon Molloy.”
“Well, haven’t you been a busy little beaver today?”
Sometimes his friend really could be an asshole. And a condescending asshole at that. “Yeah, this ain’t my first case. So—do you know this guy? This Leon? What can you tell me about him?”
“Not a lot. I mean I know about him. Hell, the Gazette ran a story on him and his recreational pot-shops when they first legalized the stuff in Colorado. But as far as I know, he keeps his nose pretty clean.”
“It’s not his nose I’m concerned about. It’s his cash. How’s he getting that cleaned?”
“Good question.”
“You think he could be using Cavelli Commerce as a way to wash his cash? We already have the Cavellis on money laundering. When you add in that Molloy’s muscle is going after the Cavelli’s accountants, it seems like a logical connection.”
Pat downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the cup toward Mac’s trash can. “I dunno. Seems like a bit of a stretch to me, but we don’t have much else to go on so it’s worth looking into. Why don’t we start by going over and talking to the blonde accountant?”
An uneasy feeling prickled his spine when he imagined Pat questioning Zoey. What was that about? His protective instincts kicking in? Or was he worried about Zoey meeting the brawny Irish cop who charmed every woman he knew. “You don’t have to bother with that. I can take care of talking to the accountant. I already know her grandmother.”
Pat narrowed his eyes and offered him a leering grin. “What? You don’t want me around the blonde? What’s up, Mackey? You got a thing for the hot bean-counter?”
Mac didn’t need his friend giving him a hard time about Zoey. Especially because it seemed he did have a thing for her. Or was in the process of developing a thing for her. Maybe. Hell, he didn’t know. But he knew he didn’t need Pat in on whatever he was feeling. “No, jackass. I don’t have a thing for her. I’ve just already talked to her, and it seems to me that we should spend our time and the taxpayers’ money following up on actual leads.”
Pat held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes held a knowing gleam. “All right, all right. Don’t need to get all touchy about it. I got a couple of hours to burn before I gotta be back in the city. Let’s go track down some bad guys.”
***
Zoey stepped back into the kitchen, Bruiser following close on her heels. “What’d I miss?”
The cookie jar was empty, and Johnny, Edna, Sunny, and the scruffy-haired Scooter were the only ones left around the table.
“Maggie and Cassie had to leave,” Sunny said. “They had something at the high school tonight that they both had to go to. They said to tell you goodbye, and they’d check in with us later.”
Edna had a notebook in front of her and a pen in her hand. She tapped the pen against her chin. “We were just brainstorming, trying to come up with ideas of how this Leon Molloy could possibly be connected to you or thoughts about why he would want you dead.” The notebook page was still blank. “We haven’t come up with much yet.”
“No, I can’t imagine that you would. Because there is no connection. Or none that I know of. I don’t smoke pot, and I don’t hang out with anyone that does.”
Edna grimaced. “Actually you do.”
Zoey gave her a quizzical look.
“I hate to suggest it. But could this have anything to do with your parents? When’s the last time you talked to Moon?”
Zoey’s parents were self-professed hippies that had raised her on a commune in southern Colorado. Everything about their lifestyle was easy and free, and they lived the motto ‘If it feels good, do it.’ Any therapist worth their salt could tell her why she valued order and preferred things in her life to be tidy and constant. And several of them had.
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” she said. “I haven’t talked to mom in a few weeks. Probably not since your wedding.”
Johnny and Edna exchanged an intimate smile, and he placed his hand over hers.
Zoey sighed, so happy for her grandparents. “You guys are adorable. You’re still such newlyweds.”
Edna grinned. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to marry this man. I plan to ride this honeymoon as long as I can.”
“All right,” Sunny said. “Let’s keep on task here. Otherwise Edna’s going to start filling us in on her honeymoon activities and ain’t nobody got time for that.”
Zoey picked up her phone. “I’ve been meaning to call mom anyway. Just to let her know that I was okay in case she heard about the—you know—dead guy in my apartment.”
“Yes, you should,” Edna agreed. “Why don’t you call her now, and ask her if she knows Leon or if she’s had any kind of problem with him that might influence his actions toward you?”
She pushed her mom’s contact and listened to an old Eagles song play as her ringback tone.
Moon picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Zoey Shining Star.”
Gotta love caller ID.
“Hi, Mom. You know I hate it when you use my middle name.”
“Well, you are my shining star. And I was just going to call you. You must have picked up our psychic connection.”
“I’m sure that’s it, Mom.” Zoey didn’t know how much she believed in all of her mom’s metaphysical stuff, but now wasn’t the time to argue.
“Are you all right? I did your cards this morning, and they seemed to suggest that danger was surrounding you.”
“Well, that’s what I’m calling you about.” She took a deep breath. “A couple of guys kind of broke into my apartment last night.”
“Kind of? Were you home? Are you hurt?” Her mom’s voice was shrill in her ear.
“I’m fine, Mom. I heard them come in, and I snuck out the back window. But the thing is, when I went back with the police, we found that one of them was still in my apartment. And he was dead.”
“Dead? Oh my gosh. Hon
ey, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. But we can’t figure out why someone would break into my apartment.”
“It sounds like they weren’t there to rob you, but to hurt you. That would make sense.”
“How could them wanting to hurt me possibly make sense to you?”
“Oh, not that they wanted to hurt you. But the reading makes more sense. I turned over a death card this morning.”
“A death card?” This was getting better and better. This is why she didn’t usually let her mom ‘do her cards.’
“Now don’t worry, the death card doesn’t necessarily mean someone’s going to die, but it could mean danger or signify harm.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I guess.” Zoey was glad her mom couldn’t hear the roll of her eyes. “Anyway, we may have found a small connection to the dead man with a guy here in town that runs a recreational marijuana shop. His name is Leon Molloy. Do you know him?”
“Why would I know him? We don’t go to those shops. They’re rip-offs. And their product is completely inferior. The blend we grow here on the commune is so much better.”
Of course. She should have known. “So you don’t know this guy? Never heard of him or had any dealings with him?”
“No. Nothing. He doesn’t sound familiar at all.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mom.”
“Honey, are you safe now?”
“I’m with Gram and Grandpa Johnny.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Her mother continued to speak as if she hadn’t said a word. “What about that cute cop that was at the wedding? Mac? Why don’t you call him? Maybe he can offer you some private protection.”
“Gram already called him. He was with me when we discovered the body, and he’s checked on me a couple of times today.”
“Ahhh. That would explain the ace of hearts card–it stands for love.”
She felt the heat of a blush warming her neck. “All right, Mom. I gotta go.”
“Bye, honey. Keep in touch with me. I’ll light a candle of protection for you. I love you.”
