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Cora pressed her mouth into a hard line. Enough of this idiocy. “I found your stolen money.”
His lecherous gaze turned cold and calculating. Now she had his attention. “The hell you talking about, girl?”
“I recovered what I believe to be stolen Booze Dog money,” Cora said. “But I’m going to need you to answer my questions first before I elaborate. When did you realize it was stolen?”
Eli cursed a blue streak, but he settled back on the edge of the narrow desk in defeat. “Last Wednesday night. We keep the petty cash—that’s what we call it—in three lockboxes in my office. One for June, July and August. Every summer we have some lucrative...business ventures. Each box holds our earnings for each month.”
Oh, she knew exactly what business venture he was talking about. The cage fights were the draw, and Eli’s illegal gambling operation meant vast amounts of cash exchanged hands. As long as he kept the fights going, the money would continue flowing straight into his pockets.
“How was the money stolen?” Cora asked. “The Doghouse doesn’t exactly have a soft perimeter. I can’t imagine someone just waltzed up to the front gates and convinced Bear to let them mosey on in.”
“That’s the thing,” Eli said, scratching his head. His leather jacket parted, and a strong whiff of unwashed male hit Cora like a two-by-four to the face. She struggled not to breathe through her nose. “The gates are always watched, and there’s always someone at the house. My office is locked, too. Whoever took the money must’ve done it when we were all out at—” He paused and checked himself. “Sometimes we attend gatherings away from the compound. On Tuesdays or Wednesdays during the summer, a lot of us are busy, and the compound has very few people who stay behind.”
“So you think that’s when your money was stolen?” Cora asked.
Eli grimaced. “The hell of it is, we can guess how it was done, but we can’t pinpointwhen. Last week I went to my office to deposit the money into the July lockbox like I always do. While I was doing that, I bumped the June box, and it felt lighter than it should. That was a red flag. When those lockboxes are filled with money, they’re heavy. So I picked it up and saw the lock had been cut. The box was empty. All the money from June was missing.”
“What about cameras?”
Eli grimaced. “We’ve got two, and they were both spray-painted over. Completely useless. None of it makes sense. Break-ins have never been an issue before at The Doghouse. We’re a brotherhood, and we have our squabbles and infighting, but we don’t bite the hand that feeds us. Whoever did this planned it out and knew when and where to strike.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s a lot of petty cash,” Cora said.
Eli gave an angry sneer. “Try two hundred thousand.”
Cora’s mouth fell open in shock. “You keeptwo hundred thousand dollarsin petty cash lying around your office?” She knew the club was making money, but she’d had no idea they were raking in that much.
“Never been a problem until now,” Eli muttered. “And we don’t usually keep that much for long. I was planning to deposit the earnings from June’s lockbox the day I realized it was stolen. What I don’t get is how come they only stole the June money?”
“What do you mean?” Cora asked.
“The July lockbox was on the shelf right next to it. I’d already deposited some cash in it. The thief didn’t even mess with July. They went straight for June, took all the money and took off. Left everything else. Like I said, it makes no sense. If I went through all the trouble of spray painting security cameras and breaking into an empty office full of cash, you can bet your ass I’d be taking all of it.”
“I think I might know the answer to that,” Cora said. If Lindsey was involved in the robbery somehow, if she actually took the money, she’d have only taken what was there before July third when she died. “But first, tell me something. The money we discovered yesterday at the gym was wrapped in paper sleeves. Can you tell me what kind of stamp—”
“Paw print with claws. Red ink.”
“That’s the one,” Cora said with a sigh.
“That money’s mine, and I want it back,” he seethed. “Where’d you find it?”
“Kick Start Fitness. In Lindsey Albright’s gym locker.”
Eli’s face grew red and mottled with anger. “That tiny piece of fluff stole my money?”
“That’s the theory. She could’ve taken it shortly before she was killed. That would be why only the June money was taken. We only found twenty-five thousand. That leaves a lot unaccounted for.”
“Where’s the rest?” he demanded, pushing off the desk to stand. His body was taut with suppressed anger. “There was two hundred grand in that box.”
Cora kept her feet braced wide, just in case he tried to get physical. “We don’t know yet, but there’s got to be a connection between the money and her murder. Someone must’ve found out she stole it and killed her for it.”
“It wasn’t the kid Slice,” Eli said irritably. He was glaring hard at the wall, as if it was a puzzle he couldn’t piece together. “I know where he was that night. You already got proof he’s in the clear.”
Cora knew where they all were that night—at the barn watching Meat beat someone to a pulp—but she had to pretend she had no clue. For now, anyway. Later, she’d take down his whole operation, but the murder had to take priority. “Where were you the night of July third?”
Eli’s bushy eyebrows snapped together, and he turned his glare on her. “You think I’d kill that girl for stealing my money? I didn’t even know it was missing until last weekend. Ask anyone at The Doghouse. I raised holy hell. Ain’t done raising it, either.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
