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I glanced at Conklin. He looked bummed.
I upended Cindy’s envelope and a slim strip of paper fluttered into my hand. It appeared to be a receipt for food and soda from the San Quentin commissary. I turned the receipt over and saw a handwritten note to Cindy from Evan Burke about a book he was going to write.
“Burke says there’s going to be a killer ending?” I said. “And you’re going to be part of it?”
Cindy said, “I don’t know if that’s the point. I think he just wants me to know that he’s writing a book on his own. That doesn’t exactly stir me up, Linds. I wouldn’t work with him again for—anything.”
Rich said, “So, Cindy leaves the office and flies to Vegas as planned.”
I looked back to Cindy.
“The Writer’s Block and Artificial Bird Sanctuary.”
“What did you say?”
“That’s the name of the bookstore. They have an ‘artificial bird sanctuary’ with cute fake birds hanging from the ceiling. Never mind. The reading went great. No one hassled me. My driver came into the store and watched out for me. There was extra security, and get this: Adam Levine—yes, that Adam Levine—asked me to sign his book. He said that he lovedFish’s Girl. Couldn’t wait to read about Burke.”
“What fun,” I said.
“I got applause and whistles,” said Cindy. “Then I got into the car, spent the night at the hotel, and did not order room service. Lights out at around nine thirty or so and then I wake up. There’s a knock-knock at the door. Lindsay. I was scared.”
“I carry a gun,” Rich said.
“You went to Vegas?” I laughed at the thought of it.
Cindy said, “The rest is off the record.”
“I swear I won’t tell,” I said, mimicking Cindy.
She gave me a little punch to the arm.
“Anyway, I felt great about the reading.”
Suddenly, I was worried again.What now, Cindy? No more suspense, please.
She went on. “In the morning, Rich and I get into the limo and the driver is kind of upset. He tells me that a dead body was found on a back road. The dead guy was shot to death.”
I felt faint. There were spots before my eyes. The waitress served dinner, and the smell of food brought me halfway back to myself. And now I knew why Richie had been looking like this was his last meal. Another person had been killed after Cindy had done her reading.
Rich said, “I checked out the driver,” he said. “Michael Brill.He’s been with First Call Limos for ten years. Maybe he’s the doer. Maybe not. I ran his name through everything. He got three traffic tickets. Two for speeding. One for a busted taillight. I’ll check his trip ledger with his boss tomorrow.”
Cindy said, “I’ve made Rich paranoid.”
“Me, too. Cindy, tell me every word your driver said.”
“He only knew what he heard on theradio,” Cindy said. “We just need to do a little police work to find out about the victim: who, what, when, where, and why.”
She was using the “we” word because Brady had invited her in. I’d just watched Blackout shoot a man to death inside a Ford on a secondary road, apparently outside Vegas.
Blackout knew Cindy’s schedule. He’d been within shooting range of her last night. He was making little films and to me, the shooting in Las Vegas felt like the middle of the second act.
I called Brady between the burger and the mud pie.
CHAPTER 47
I COULDN’T JUST sit home on Sunday while Blackout had taken possession of my mind, so I drove to the Hall.
The bullpen was teeming with the swing shift. I greeted old friends and moved my laptop to the war room. There, I ran a new ViCAP search for a strangler who sometimes used a Ruger Mark IV who seemed to have a high IQ, video glasses, and a cloak of invisibility. I was awash in serial killer profiles when Brady found me in the corner office.
