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“Yeah, yeah. Guy was an asshole. Worked over at Buff Bodies. We’ve just come from there. I had to send for McNab to access his employee locker. The vic doubled the lock, programmed it to block masters.”
“A pity you didn’t tag me as I was close.”
“Didn’t know or I might have.”
“And what was he hiding?”
“A hundred sixty-five thousand in cash. All twenties, all new bills.”
“Interesting. Now, that’s very interesting indeed.”
“Not a huge haul in the grand scheme—a Roarke grand scheme anyway—but a nice pile for a guy who lived in a cramped little apartment in a dicey neighborhood and liked really nice clothes.”
“It’s considerable,” Roarke corrected, “in any scheme, when tucked away in a gym locker.”
“Yeah, it is. The way it looks, he got the windfall in the last few weeks and dumped Trina’s friend shortly thereafter. He was already banging somebody else. And he was up to something at work. Don’t know what, but something. McNab’s on his electronics. Peabody’s on the financials. I’m going to write up the report, open the book, then go talk to the ex before his last ex.”
“Busy, busy. What did he do at Buff Bodies?”
“Personal training and massage work.”
“Hmm. The sort of intimacy that leads people to talk about personal business. Blackmail?”
“My first pick.” She could appreciate he’d lean there first, too. “I’ve got to figure whatever he was into, it was a new enterprise. He made noises about starting his own place in the tropics.”
“It would take more than under two hundred K to start up a tropical fitness business.”
“Yeah, but he was an asshole.”
“Perhaps one who planned to add to that windfall. I’ll let you get back to it. I can fit a quick bit of shopping in before my next meeting.”
“Don’t say shopping.”
He grinned at her. “Haven’t finished yet, have you?”
“There’s time. Plenty of time.”
“Mmm. Barely started then.” He kissed her between the eyebrows. “Best of luck there. I’ll see you at home.”
“I started,” she called out, heard him chuckle as he walked away. “Sort of.”
Frowning, she picked up the memo cube he’d left on her desk. Activated.
I was in the neighborhood, so I stopped in. Charming holiday decor in your bullpen, Lieutenant. As I didn’t give you your daily reminder this morning, consider this that. You’ve two days until our holiday party. Meanwhile, take care of my cop.
“Two days? How did it get to be two days?”
She dropped down at her desk. Okay, she admitted, shopping had now bumped up to the urgent area on her to-do list.
But first things first.
She began setting up her murder board.
Blackmail, she thought. Extortion. A scam.
No way she’d buy Ziegler came into more than a hundred fifty large by legal means.
So who had he blackmailed, extorted, scammed?
