BLACK in the Box

by Russell Blake

  “We haven’t seen him today. Have you?”

  “Yeah, he’s around,” Black said distractedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

  “What is it, Black?”

  “Nothing. Just a loose end – something that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What?”

  “Let me run down the lead first. Won’t take that long.”

  McCarthy’s tone hardened. “If you’re holding out on me, Black…”

  “Never. Just give me a few minutes to get it together. I’m beat. I need to finish my report for Larry. I’ll get back with you before I leave, I promise.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Oh, and I talked to your buddy Stan. He’s on his way.”

  “Great. It’ll be a reunion.”

  Black made his way to the administrative offices, where Roxie was sitting in front of the screen. She looked up as he entered and offered a tired smile. “I’m in.”

  “I figured you probably liberated the dongle.”

  “I’ll leave it for the cops. Just wanted to satisfy my curiosity.”

  “And?”

  “It’s not anything like we expected. All kinds of satellite images, maps, that sort of thing. And a lot of historic research on Saddam Hussein’s final year in power, the American invasion…”

  “He was stationed in Iraq. Sounds like he didn’t let it all go. That can happen.”

  “Looks like he was planning on going back.” She shook her head. “Who goes to a place like that for vacation?”

  He shrugged. “Takes all kinds, Roxie.”

  “Oh, and there’s an entire file with credit card info. Think the cops will be interested in that?”

  Black smiled. “Could be.”

  “Then maybe I should just drag all this to the desktop folder so they actually find it?”

  “Awfully neighborly of you,” Black agreed.

  “And then I’m done, boss.”

  “I agree. I can finish up the report. I’d say this pretty much gets Bethany off the hook, wouldn’t you?”

  “Be pretty hard to make a case against her after Brent tried to kill both of us.”

  “That would be my guess, too.”

  “You know what bugs me, though?”

  Black nodded. “Nancy.”

  “Right. She gave Brent an alibi. And he gave her one in return. Obviously she was lying, if he killed Alec. The question is, why?”

  “I’ll leave that one up to the good detective to figure out. We’ve more than put in our time.”

  “See you around, boss,” Roxie said, rising after transferring the files to the server desktop. “Mugsy needs some TLC.”

  Black watched her gather her things and hoist Mugsy’s carrier. The office felt smaller than it had only minutes before, Roxie having managed to take the life in the space with her. He thought through how to phrase the final wrap-up for the report, and then tapped in a few sentences before printing it and deleting the file so the paper was the only copy. He glanced around the office one last time and retrieved the report from the printer, and then switched off the lights and went in search of his client.

  Larry was sitting by the entrance, on his cell phone, when Black approached. He growled something into the phone and hung up, and then stood and faced Black.

  “The maintenance guy, huh? Who’d have thought?” Larry said.

  “Yeah. Well, life’s strange sometimes. But it’s good news for you and Bethany. That clears her, or at least makes it so nobody in their right mind would try to fit her for the murder. This way the cops have a nice, clean ending to a messy case.” Black paused. “Looks like you owe me my bonus.”

  Larry’s eyes narrowed. “What bonus?”

  Black didn’t flinch. “I’ll take cash now, if you don’t mind. Christmas for the kids, you know?”

  “I have your two grand right here.” Larry peeled off twenty hundred-dollar bills from a wad that could have choked a goat and put it back in his pocket. Black took the money and shook his head.

  “You’re four short, Larry. I figured out a way so Bethany gets off. That happened because of me and my assistant staying up all night. The deal was that you would double my pay. Did that slip your mind?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Black. You’ve been paid. What are you still doing here?”

  Black nodded and gave him a smile. “You’re right. I could be having coffee with my reporter buddy before he goes to work at the station. He’d enjoy having a big scoop on credit card fraud, especially right around the holidays. Timely and all.”

  Larry’s face flushed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Larry, I’ve been up all night. My assistant was almost killed. I was shot at twice. I have a gash on my head that could wind up costing a hundred grand with the wrong doctor ordering MRI and CT scans, physical therapy, and God knows what else. I killed a kid younger than my socks. Maybe you’re not such a swell judge of character. That’s all I’ll say. Have a merry Christmas.”

  Black turned and walked toward the rear of the store. Larry called after him. “Black, I was just busting your chops. Here. I’ve got the money.”

  Black stopped and waited for Larry to come to him. He counted out four grand and handed it over with a predatory smile. “No hard feelings, right?”

  Suddenly the overhead work lights seemed too bright to Black, and the headache that had abated returned in full force. He considered throwing the money at Larry and telling him to screw himself, but instead he took it wordlessly and continued back to the loading area, to let McCarthy know about the dongle and Nancy, and to ask Stan to call him whenever he could.

  Chapter 53

  The Eldorado started to life like a grumpy bear, idling roughly for a minute while Black waited for it to warm up. He lowered the top and basked in the morning sun, and then put the car in gear. Traffic north was already brutal, and he settled in for a long grind, scanning the radio for any info about accidents – he could always take surface streets from near the airport, although he hated to because of the neighborhoods he’d be navigating through.

  His phone vibrated and he fished it out of his pocket and held it to his ear. “Hang on. Gotta switch to my earpiece,” he said, feeling for it on the seat next to him. He slipped the holder over his ear and adjusted it. “There.”

  “Black, it’s Stan. Got a minute?”

  “For you? Always.”

  “McCarthy told me about what happened. Sucks.”

  “Yeah, well, he tried to drill holes in me, so I defended myself. Fortunately a Glock’s a little more accurate than a Saturday Night Special.”

  “We’re going to measure his shoe. They’re bagging them at the hospital.” Stan paused. “He didn’t make it.”

  “I figured.”

  “You like him for the murderer, huh?”

  “Fits as well as any of the rest, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose so.” Another hesitation. “Couple of the workers have gone missing.”

  Black’s curiosity perked up. “Really? Who? Kyle? Lee?”

  “Henry Heung and Tom Lo.”

  “Did they sign out?”

  “Negative. Just went walkies when the uniforms showed up. Now why do you think that might be?”

  “Guilty consciences?” Black stomped on the brakes as a Lexus cut in front of him without signaling. “Someone’s dealing drugs there. Nobody would say who, but that’s where I’d start.”

  “Funny you should mention that. A truck showed up for a pickup a few minutes ago, and nobody had any idea what they were supposed to get. There was nothing on the books to go out. Sounds like McCarthy will have to take a closer look at the inventory in the returns area. Might strike gold.”

  “Could be. What about Nancy?”

  “McCarthy booked her. She clammed up when she heard Brent was dead, and McCarthy figured it would be best to put the fear of God into her so that when he interrogated her she didn’t tell any more tall tales.”

  “She’s pathological, S
tan. I mean, seriously good at it. She could make a fortune playing poker. Or in government work.”

  “I’ll pass that along.”

  “You sound bushed, amigo.”

  “All week, a couple hours of sleep. Too many bodies, too little time.”

  “Put it to music and it’s a hit.”

  “One more thing. You like the owner for anything? He’s a dick. I’d love it if he was in on something here.”

  “Not really. I mean, why steal from yourself? As to the card skimming, that’s going to kill his sales, so I don’t see him involved unless he’s a complete moron, which he doesn’t strike me as being. And he’s way too old to want to risk drug dealing.”

  “I get the con artist vibe real strong, is why I ask.”

  “Yeah, he’s a greaseball, but I don’t think he’s guilty of anything you can make him for.” A sudden thought popped into Black’s head. “Having said that, might want to see what size shoe he wears.”

  Stan laughed wearily. “Way ahead of you. Size twelve and a half. So no love there.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been priceless?”

  “Only in the movies.”

  Black terminated the call and concentrated on his driving. The cars ahead of him were accelerating, which was always a promising sign. He was about to dial Sylvia again when his cell jumped in his hands. He thumbed the call to life.

  “Black.”

  “Artemus, sweetheart, it’s Spring!”

  The perfect end to a terrible stint. “Right. Sorry I never called back.”

  “We were afraid you’d…well, let’s just say it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Mom, I told you I’m not suicidal. Can you just give it a rest?”

  “It’s Spring.”

  “Right.”

  “Have you patched things up with Sylvina?”

  “Sylvia. And no, we’re still working things out.”

  “She told me she was leaving you. Flying back home to Sweden.”

  “Switzerland! When did you talk to her again?”

  “After you threatened to kill yourself. We had a nice long conversation. She’s very sweet for a foreigner.”

  “It’s all an act. They lure you in with that, and then pounce.”

  “Really? Well, be careful, sweetheart.”

  “That’s also a little humor, Spring.”

  “Oh, of course it is. Anyway, your father and I were talking, and we agree that if you want to save your relationship, you need to just let her go. Like that song.”

  “You’re offering relationship advice based on a thirty-year-old pop song?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “What’s that sound?”

  “Oh, we’re on our plane. Flying to see you. We figured you’d want company over the holidays now that you’re all alone. We don’t want you to…do anything silly.”

  “Mom, I’m leaving town, so like I told you, you’re wasting your time.”

  “You are? Where are you going?”

  Black thought about it for a few moments. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

  He could practically hear her pout over the phone. “Oh, Artemus. We’re coming all the way there just to see your face.”

  “Mom, you and dad are filthy rich. Stay at the Four Seasons or something, enjoy yourselves, and I’ll see you whenever I’m back.”

  “It’s Spring.”

  Chapter 54

  The departure lounge was teeming with travelers headed to Europe for the holidays. Sylvia sat as far from the hubbub as she could get, her face showing her exhaustion after a long night of no sleep. Everything she owned was in the belly of the plane by now, and she had nothing but almost fifteen hours of travel to look forward to. It would have been unpleasant under normal circumstances, but even worse with screaming babies and a nearly full flight.

  She’d ignored Black’s messages and deleted them without listening. She had no interest in his story or his pleas for her to stay. If it wasn’t worth his time to put forth the effort to make things work, she wasn’t going to invest any more of hers – she was done being played for a fool by a man who was completely self-involved and indifferent to her wants and needs.

  A voice screeched over the public address system and called her flight, and she plodded with the rest of the passengers toward the Jetway. An attendant scanned her boarding pass and handed her the stub and then she was onboard, making her way to her seat in the economy section toward the rear of the jumbo jet.

  Sylvia stowed her bag in the overhead bin after removing a few items she’d need in-flight and took her window seat. The magazine in the pocket in front of her was thumb worn and featured a smiling celebrity in a Santa hat on the cover, with a headline beneath it promising her a plethora of dream gifts for the entire family.

  She’d called her parents and told them that she was coming home – for how long, she didn’t know. They hadn’t asked any questions, which was typically restrained of them, and for which she was grateful. She already felt sick to her stomach at the decision she’d made, and the last thing she wanted was to have to offer a detailed explanation of her ruins of a romantic life. They already viewed her as questionable due to her decision to pursue a career in art, and she’d be damned if she’d give them more fuel to feed that fire.

  Sylvia checked her watch and wondered how long after takeoff they’d start serving drinks. Ordinarily limiting her intake to wine, she decided that she’d try something hard with breakfast to make the sleep come. She didn’t particularly care what any of the other passengers thought of her, not that they appeared to care. Everyone was wrapped up in their own dramas, their niggling concerns and plans, far too much so to be sitting in judgment of an anonymous woman in a window seat.

  She sat back and closed her eyes, willing the world to go away. Her hope was that her seatmate wouldn’t be three hundred pounds of garrulous tourist, and she resolved to keep her eyes screwed shut until takeoff to avoid interaction.

  Her plan was a sound one, and would have worked had she not heard a familiar voice speaking with someone else in the aisle – negotiating a seat swap. Her heart rate rocketed and she opened her eyes as Black sat beside her, offering a wave at the businessman he’d supplanted.

  She stared at him with an open mouth. He leaned into her and kissed her cheek lightly.

  “Looks like we’re going to Switzerland, huh?” he murmured.

  “Wha-what are you doing here?”

  “I would think it’s obvious.” The pilot came over the speakers and announced that they were closing the doors, and warned everyone to take their seats so they could back away from the gate.

  She made to rise and he gently gripped her arm and shook his head.

  She glared at him. “You’re insane.”

  “Crazy about you.”

  “It’s not going to work.”

  “Maybe, but I have to try. I don’t want to lose you, Sylvia. I know I’ve been a selfish shit, and I intend to change. Starting right now.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I’m not talking to you.”

  “Going to be a long trip.” Black sat back and fastened his seat belt. “I had to kill someone this morning,” he said, almost in passing. “A kid. Twenty-four. I need a vacation. And a stiff drink.”

  She turned to him. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. If they don’t have bourbon on this thing, I’m going air rage on their asses.”

  “No, about having to kill a kid.”

  “Yeah. It hasn’t been a great night. I earned my pay this time around.”

  “Oh, Black. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll get over it.”

  The plane began moving, and Black closed his eyes. Sylvia studied his profile, the scruffy growth on his face, his hair still wet from a fast shower, and her heart melted.

  After an internal struggle that was invisible to anyone, she slid her hand to his and took it, and then the plane was lifting into the sky, carrying th
em into a future neither had envisioned only minutes before.

  Chapter 55

  McCarthy stalked into the interrogation room, his patience at an end, the long hours having burned away any subtlety or patience he possessed. Trout followed, and they took seats across from Nancy, whose expression was something between belligerent and annoyed. McCarthy cleared his throat and sat forward with his hands on the table.

  “You’re here because you lied to us about being with Brent. That alibi’s as phony as a three-dollar bill, Nancy, and I intend to hang you with it. Perjury, aiding and abetting in the commission of a homicide…and those are just for starters.”

  “I want to speak with an attorney,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.

  “Sure thing. But when you make the call, you can tell him the arresting officer said no deal, no plea, that he’s going to take you to the mat and make an example of you. Give him my name. If he knows the system, he’ll know I’m serious as a heart attack. You read me?”

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Your boyfriend tried to shoot Black, for starters. He’s dead. That only leaves you to hang the murder on. You have no alibi now, Nancy. There’s no way for you to prove that you didn’t kill Alec – it would certainly explain how you appeared so quickly after Bethany went in. I’m thinking it’s because you were just finished burying the hatchet in Alec. Brent’s vouching for you is out the window. It’s a joke. A jury will immediately see that you were in this together. So you want to play hardball? This is the World Series. Call your attorney, and better pray that he’s got a lot of murder trial experience.”

  Her face twisted into an ugly mask. “I didn’t kill Alec. That’s idiocy.”

  “So you say.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Right. Because you were so in love you were waiting to break the news to your long-dead parents. See, I know everything, Nancy. I have enough to bury you.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and McCarthy knew he’d gotten through. The fight drained from her posture and she shifted on her chair.

  “I was scared of Alec. But I didn’t want to marry him.”