BLACK in the Box

by Russell Blake

  Larry lowered his voice. “Is there any way to keep it…to keep it quiet?”

  McCarthy looked at Larry’s expensive watch and worried expression. “I’m not calling any reporters. It’s part of a murder investigation. If you don’t tell anyone, until charges are filed, it’ll stay confidential.”

  Larry looked relieved. “Between the murder, and now this…it could ruin me. Especially this time of year.”

  “I hear you. But by the same token, if this is really a skimming deal, you can expect the feds to get involved, and from that point it’s just a matter of time till someone makes a call. Sorry.”

  Larry scowled. “So merry Christmas to me.”

  “Sometimes you’re the bug, sometimes you’re the windshield.”

  All three men took in Roxie as she strode toward them, her walk as flamboyant as her outfit, hair, and tattoos. She blinked at the computer and then at McCarthy. “What’s the problem?”

  “You know how to access the files?”

  “Sure. Took a while to figure it out. Why?”

  “Care to show us?”

  “Got any gloves?”

  Trout drew a pair from his pocket and handed them to her. She slipped them on, black nail polish showing through the thin latex, and then moved into the small room and typed commands.

  Three minutes later, McCarthy was hanging up a call to the FBI as Larry paced by the administrative offices. Black joined him.

  “Sucks for you. Sorry, Larry.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  “Business will recover.”

  “Oh, yeah, probably, after a rough month or two. That’s not the problem.” Larry leaned in conspiratorially. “You’ve been wasting your time here. McCarthy just told me that Bethany got picked up on a DUI early this morning. She’s in custody.”

  “That explains why she didn’t call.”

  “Right.” Larry hesitated. “So looks like you’re done. Unless you’ve got something that can completely clear her.”

  “I wish. I mean, I’ve got some theories a decent attorney could use to poke holes through any case they put together – assuming her prints aren’t on that computer.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “I’ll have a report in your hands within an hour. My assistant’s typing it up.”

  “I think the need for formalities is over, Black.”

  “Maybe. But that’s how I work.”

  “Tell me you have something that will get her off the hook.”

  “What I have will make the district attorney think really hard before charging her. I’ll share the rest of it with the cops. They like nice, clean cases. This introduces doubt – Alec could have been killed over the credit card scam. No way to prove he was, unless his prints are on the computer, but there’s also no way to prove he wasn’t.”

  “That’s why you said Bethany’s better not be on it.”

  “Exactly. Then it’s sort of, the cops will say she was in on it and that’s why she planted the axe in him, but it introduces the possibility that someone else did – because now there’s another motive besides an argument of some kind or a lovers’ tiff.”

  “I see what you’re saying. Reasonable doubt.”

  “And someone’s dealing drugs in your store.”

  “What! Who?”

  “I don’t know. But I have Nancy on record saying she knows it’s happening, because Alec was taking a ton of them. The toxicology results will show if that’s true. If it is, there’s the possibility that he was dealing. Or that he owed the dealer money. Either way, it could be someone teaching Alec a final lesson. Which again, sounds plausible enough to dissuade a jury from being very certain about anything. It’s lousy for your store, but her defense lawyer will make it look like Home World’s a hotbed of criminal activity. Mary was stealing from you. And using drugs, which she probably bought here. Or maybe not. The cops might think it’s a better bet that she was buying from someone and it went wrong. Or selling to them. Or that she had an accomplice in the thefts, and he decided to terminate their relationship. Sky’s the limit, but any of that could mean the same person took Alec out. I mean, it’s a hell of a coincidence that there were two of your workers murdered within twenty-four hours.”

  Larry studied Black with newfound respect. “Bobby wasn’t kidding. You are good.”

  “Right. And expensive. Let’s not forget that.”

  “The problem is none of that really clears her, Black. Don’t get me wrong, it’s promising, but it’s no guarantee, is it?”

  “Only guarantees are death and taxes.”

  Larry thought for several beats. “But all those theories are bad for business.”

  “The only way they would be is if there are leaks, or if the case makes it to trial. No prints, their case got a lot weaker.”

  “You think you can sway that McCarthy fellow? He seems tough as nails.”

  “I can give it my best shot. Assuming we agree that I get the bonus for coming up with enough to muddy the water.”

  “I’ll think about it. Do your best. If you manage to pull this off, sure, I’ll pay you double. Even though it’s bittersweet, it’ll get her off the hook.”

  “There’s still the DUI.”

  Larry’s voice hardened. “That’s not my problem.”

  Roxie approached and Larry’s eyes roamed over her. She ignored him and looked to Black.

  “Cops said they’ll take it from here. So I’m done, right? I need to find poor Mugs. He’s probably terrified,” she said.

  Black held back the retort that was forming and instead nodded. “Not quite, Roxie. Still need to finish the report to wrap things up. But you did well. Thank you.”

  Her face didn’t change. “Next time, don’t lose my cat, and I’ll feel way better about it.”

  They both watched her walk away, and Larry shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Is she always like that?”

  Black smiled. “This is one of her good days.”

  Chapter 49

  Tom’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket as he watched with increasing alarm as the police arrived and met with the investigator. Fortunately it was just the pair of detectives from the other night, but the way things had been going, the uniformed officers wouldn’t be far behind. He’d gotten a message moments earlier from his boss, who had confirmed that there was a car in the rear lot waiting for Henry. If he was quick about it, Tom could get the security guard to the vehicle in time for them to make a getaway.

  His superior had decided to have Tom disappear along with Henry – while his background papers were good, they wouldn’t withstand a thorough investigation.

  Tom approached Henry’s office, his rubber-soled work boots silent on the hard floor, and spied the security man watching the monitors, his feet up on his desk, a can of caffeinated soda in his hand. Tom tapped on the door jamb, and Henry raised his head.

  “You see the police and the owner are here?” Tom asked.

  “Yes.” Tom eyed the shredded sleeve of Henry’s racing jacket and shook his head. “What happened?”

  “The investigator’s cat got to it.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I loved that jacket.”

  “The shipment’s ready for pickup?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. It’s all staged and on the cart.”

  “Excellent. Listen, I got a call from our mutual friend. He needs to speak with you. He’s concerned about the murder and wants a briefing.”

  “I can do that. When?”

  “He’s outside, waiting. He’s unsure about our shipment. You know how jumpy he gets. Reassure him – I don’t know enough about what the police are doing to tell him much.”

  Henry stiffened. “Ling Hai is here?”

  “I guess he watched the news, and it troubled him.”

  “He wants to do this right now? Can’t he wait until my shift is over? We only have another hour to go.”

  “You want to call and tell him he’s going
to have to cool his heels? I’m not going to.”

  “What if the police want to talk to me?”

  “Have they asked for you? Called your extension?”

  “No.”

  Tom looked away. “He didn’t sound like rejecting his invitation was an option.”

  Henry dropped his feet onto the ground and stood. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

  Tom led him out the rear entrance and they stepped into the dim morning glow. It would be full light out in another fifteen minutes, which would complicate matters, but once Henry was in the car, it was no longer Tom’s problem. It had been decided that others would question Henry and then attend to him. He was merely the delivery boy today.

  They moved to a Chevrolet Suburban, and the passenger door opened as they drew near. Henry climbed in and nodded to the driver. “Where’s Ling Hai?”

  “He’s waiting for us a block away. Felt it wouldn’t be prudent to talk with police around.”

  “I can’t be gone for more than a few minutes.”

  The driver’s face was stony. “You can tell him.”

  Henry barely registered movement behind him and then a length of yellow nylon rope snaked over his neck and pulled tight. His legs kicked as Tom closed the door, uninterested in Henry’s thrashing as the enforcer in the rear seat cut off his air until he passed out. The big motor started and the driver put the transmission in gear as Tom walked back to the employee entrance, his part in the affair now over.

  When Henry came to, he was bound on the floor of an industrial area, seated with his back against a brick wall. He blinked and coughed, his larynx badly bruised, and winced as he swallowed.

  A steel door at the far end of the space opened and Ling Hai stepped through, followed by two hard-looking men. Henry’s stomach sank at the sight – he knew them, and if they were here, this wasn’t some sort of misunderstanding. His only hope would be to insist on his innocence – which probably wouldn’t work. The realization that he wouldn’t live to see another night hit him like a hammer blow, and he closed his eyes and muttered a silent prayer to a deity he neither believed in nor had ever had any use for.

  “So, Henry,” Ling Hai said, his voice silky and low, all the more menacing for its subtlety, “I thought we should have a talk. You can tell me how you haven’t been cheating me and selling drugs to your fellow workers, and I’ll listen patiently before having you ground up and fed to the dogs.”

  “It’s not like that. I would never cheat you.”

  “Let’s start with your sideline. I know you’ve been selling product to some of the workers. Tom has overheard their discussions. Apparently you’re well known for having ‘good shit.’ A commendable business philosophy, were it not my shit they were praising.”

  “No. I get it from somewhere else.”

  “Has it not given you pause to question whether taking on the additional risk of being a known dealer might jeopardize our arrangement? For which you’re paid handsomely, I might add.”

  “Nobody can prove anything.”

  A sad smile played across Ling Hai’s face, and he shook his head as though speaking with a child. “One of your best customers died yesterday. And our sources tell me the woman, Mary, your boss, was killed only a few hours ago. Do you not understand that because they were both buying their product from you, the police will eventually come for you?”

  “There’s no trace of anything.”

  “Except for how many kilos sitting in the loading area as we speak, you mean. If they discover that, they’ll want to know who it belongs to. There aren’t many candidates that have the keys to access that area. You’re one of them, you idiot. So, yes, you’re exposed.”

  “But it will be picked up today.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Neither of us knows that. What I do know is that if you are arrested in connection with the murders, you only have one bargaining chip – and that’s your arrangement with us. Can you guess how willing I am to allow that to happen?”

  “I’d never talk. I swear it,” Henry insisted, sweat beading on his face.

  “Was our money not enough? Why would you do this and put us all in jeopardy? For what? An extra…five hundred dollars a week? A thousand?” Ling Hai shook his head and glanced at the two men standing in the shadows. “It was not a good bargain, my friend. You have been loyal and helpful, and we returned that with our trust. You violated that trust, and now you will pay the ultimate price for it.”

  “No. You don’t have to do this.” Henry’s eyes narrowed. “I have incriminating material that would reveal everything. If I disappear, the police will find it.”

  “Oh, do you mean the file you had in your apartment safe? It took my men ten minutes to open it. Nice collection of guns there, by the way. In that, at least, you had good taste.”

  “Please don’t. I made a mistake. I needed more money for…for something that could make us all rich.”

  “Really?” Ling Hai asked, his curiosity apparently genuine. “And what would that be?”

  Henry told him about his investment. Ling Hai stared at him in disbelief.

  “You’re a fool, and a dangerous one at that. I’m fortunate to be rid of you.” Ling Hai sighed. “You will answer my men’s questions. How honest you are will determine how agonizing your last moments will be. That, at least, is in your hands. Choose wisely, because in the end they will still learn all you know.”

  “No…please. You don’t understand. We’re talking many millions.”

  Ling Hai gave a small hand signal and the pair approached Henry, one with a blowtorch, the other with a pair of pruning shears. Ling Hai inspected the torch and nodded, and then considered Henry’s hapless form a final time. “We will cauterize each wound so you don’t die too quickly.”

  Henry’s eyes widened in horror as Ling Hai headed out the door. Ling Hai didn’t look back, even as Henry’s tortured shrieks split the silence like an air raid siren. Business was business, and if you cheated the triads, you could expect no mercy. Henry’s remains would be disposed of from a boat Ling Hai enjoyed his weekends aboard, the turncoat providing at least some useful purpose in feeding the fish as his final act.

  Chapter 50

  Roxie left the men to their business, now exhausted after pulling the all-nighter but determined to find Mugsy before she went home. Her heels’ staccato popping on the floor sounded like gunfire in the empty store as she marched to the first aisle, crooning his name softly.

  “Mugsy? Mugsy, angel baby, where are you? Come to Mama. I’ve got treats!”

  She stopped every twenty yards and knelt down to peer beneath the pallets loaded with cartons, on the lookout for the cat’s form. Failing to see him, she repeated the process as she moved up the aisle, slowing as she neared the carpets. She knew Mugsy’s tastes, and cozy ranked high on his list. Find someplace soft to snuggle and she’d find him, she was sure.

  “Mugsy? Come on. Mugsy…”

  Kyle and Kristen turned the corner and Roxie straightened. They eyed her outfit and flamboyant hair without comment, and Roxie didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the mood for explanations, and if they couldn’t figure it out on their own, well, that was probably why they were working in this dump for chicken feed.

  Kristen eventually spoke. “Still no sign of him, huh?”

  “Not yet. But I just started looking.”

  “He did some damage over by the pet food section earlier,” Kyle said.

  “I heard,” Roxie said. “But he wouldn’t eat dog food. He’s more of a steak and lobster kind of guy. Or at least a juicy burger.”

  “Well, good luck. Our shift’s almost over. The store will be quiet for a few hours before the day crew arrives. Maybe it’ll be easier to find him then,” Kristen offered.

  “Yeah, well, one way or the other. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  They continued on their way, taking their time, and Roxie waited until they disappeared down the next aisle before continuing her search. She arrived
at the far end without any success and considered her strategy. She could eliminate appliances and canned goods – there was no way he’d opt for those if there was anywhere softer to sleep. That narrowed her options to clothing, bedding, and furniture.

  And any food he could tear open. Fortunately there were only two aisles that might qualify – the majority of Home World’s limited edible inventory was canned or crated. She made her way down the first and didn’t find him, and then turned up the next with the same result.

  “Damn it, Mugsy. Don’t make this hard. Come to Mama. Let’s go home.”

  Silence greeted her plea.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, adjusted her pants, and continued with the grim determination of a fighter in the tenth round, bloodied but unbowed. He had to be around there somewhere.

  A thought froze her in her tracks. What if he’d slipped outside? The loading dock had been open for hours while accepting deliveries. What if her poor little guy had gotten frightened and bolted outdoors, unseen by the workers?

  Roxie cocked her head. There was no way of knowing if he had until she’d eliminated all possible spots in the interior. Only then would she take the search into the lot, where it would presumably be safer in the full daylight of the morning. Criminals, like most vermin, preferred to work in the shadows, and it was unlikely she’d be jumped once the sun was completely up.

  “Mugsy? Mugsy…come to Mama…”

  She spied a carton with claw marks on it up on the third level of the racks – the unmistakable signature of a bored cat scratching that she’d seen on their office furniture too many times to count. Her pulse quickened. “You’ve been here, haven’t you?” she whispered under her breath. She cleared her throat and called out again. “Mugsy! This is getting old. Come out right now. I’m losing my patience.”

  Roxie listened intently and heard a rustle in the distance – from the rear area by the loading docks. “Mugsy? Is that you?”

  She hurried to the back of the store and nearly ran headlong into Matt, who was punching numbers into a tablet computer, a pair of steel-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked up at her in surprise. “Well, hello there. Who are you, and how did you get in here?”