“She has the smarts to mastermind a crime on this level,” Hernandez continued. “Robertson MO is drug deals not Vegas heists.”
“Then why is the money trail leading to Rosario Ortiz, Olivia, and André Robertson? I bet if we dig deep enough, Rosario and Olivia have some sort of connection. Most likely from way back.”
“Why? Because they’re Hispanic?” Hernandez asked. “You’re determined to pin this on a Latino. First the Mexican gang members, when one of the witnesses described white males!”
“Are you friggin’ kidding me?” Peterson bellowed. “This isn’t about race! Don’t come in here playing that race card! I’m going where the evidence leads me, and it doesn’t lead to Honey Brown!”
“And why not? Because she’s one of yours?” Hernandez couldn’t shake his intuition.
“You know, Hernandez, you’re a moron. I don’t know how you even made it to first-grade detective. You would have never made it at the Bureau.”
***
When the plainclothes NYPD detectives came back from André mother’s house, Detective Hernandez wasn’t too pleased.
“We checked the house from top to bottom. It’s clean. Olivia lied. The money isn’t there.”
“You still think your half-Latino princess is innocent? We got over forty million dollars out there, and this bitch think she can blow smoke up our asses and have us on a paper chase?” Peterson was done playing niceties. “She’s going down!”
At that moment another set of plainclothes NYPD detectives came back with all the merchandise that Olivia had bought just the day before at Bloomingdale’s along with the surveillance tapes on which Olivia is clearly seen counting out thousands of dollars and André isn’t anywhere in sight.
As the detectives and agents looked at the tape, Agent Scott replied, “Find out who the friend is she’s with. We’ll want to get a statement from her.” Then he added, “So far everything André Robertson is telling us about Olivia is adding up. She was the one who controlled and, up to date, was spending all the money.”
“And the branch manager said she came in and did the withdrawal alone—”
“Although he did pick out her husband as waiting in the car.”
“But he didn’t sign for it. That’s all her.”
“OK, so who’s the real mastermind here?” Sergeant Aponte asked. “It’s either André Robertson, who has set up Rosario Ortiz and Olivia Robertson to take the fall for the measly million dollars each, while he rides off in the sunset with the remaining forty four million.”
“Or it could be Olivia Robertson who never got over his infidelities and wanted to set not only André up but his ex-wife as well. Hit the casino she works at and allow the heat to surround her.”
“Nah, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would she deposit the money into her own account?”
“That’s a good question. But why did she send us on a wild goose chase at his mother’s house?”
“What about André? My money is on him. He’s the real mastermind. He set up Rosario, Honey, and also Olivia to take the fall, while him and his crew gets away with murder and the money. And the cherry on top was murdering his ex-wife’s new piece of dick, Brian. And depositing the money into Olivia’s account would make Honey look like she was extracting revenge.” Agent Scott had made up his mind.
Hernandez just couldn’t fully swallow the theories. The level of sophistication was too advanced for a coke dealer. And where was the remaining heist money?
Just then another NYPD detective came in to share more good news. “We just found a safe at the Robertson residence. Our safe cracker got it opened and found six kilos of uncut cocaine inside.”
Everyone smiled at that realization.
“He’s going down!” the detective replied.
“Not so fast. Only Olivia Robertson’s name is on the mortgage for that property. If he gets a good lawyer, the charge won’t stick.”
“Send in the latent print guys and see what fingerprints are pulled off the safe. My guess is that both their prints will be there.”
“And he could argue that he only used it to store important paperwork and once again throw the weight on his wife. She’d need to testify against him, but you see she’s playing games! We let her listen to him sell her out, and still she spits in our face and sends us on a wild goose chase for the million dollars.”
“Maybe she’s not as innocent as we think.” Sergeant Aponte concluded.
“That’s a possibility. OK, here’s what we’re gonna do. Have ballistics check his Glock to see if it has any bodies on it. It could have been used in the Bellagio heist. In the meantime, all we could really charge him with is the gun. Charge Mrs. Robertson with the Bellagio heist, conspiracy, felony murders, attempted murder, and the six kilos of cocaine. Once she sits in jail for a while, she’ll start to roll over on everyone involved. And if Honey Brown is involved, she’ll be able to prove that. We’ll have her expedited to Vegas first to get arraigned there on a federal level due to the magnitude of the crime, and then she’ll come back to New York to get arraigned on the drug charges and stand trial in the state court.
“Meanwhile, there’s still a warrant out for the arrest of Rosario Ortiz. I’d love to have her captured so we could interrogate her the proper way,” Peterson remarked dryly. “And once she’s arrested and faced with the preponderance of evidence, if your suspect is involved, then Ms. Ortiz could give up that testimony as well. Also, we’ll have our IT do a search and cross-reference everyone involved telephone records, including that of Ms. Brown.”
Hernandez knew that was all they could do at the moment, but somehow he felt that they wouldn’t come up with anything substantial on Ms. Brown. She was former ATF. He didn’t think she’d be foolish enough to have telephone records, or anything else for that matter to connect her to this crime.
***
Agent Scott and Detective Hernandez walked into the interrogation room holding André.
“Stand up and place your hands behind your back.”
“What am I being charged with?”
“For now, that loaded nine millimeter!”
André was actually relieved.
***
Agent Peterson and Sergeant Aponte walked into the interrogation room holding Olivia.
“Mrs. Robertson, stand up and place your hands behind your back. You’re going to have your chance to speak with your lawyer.”
“What?” Olivia began to panic. “Why? Why are you arresting me? I ain’t done shit!”
“Tell it to the judge,” Peterson said.
Epilogue
The news of Olivia and André’s arrest had filtered back to Honey in Vegas. She was a little shocked that André wasn’t charged with more than just a gun but equally shocked that Olivia was the only one taking the fall. She felt she’d given them more than enough evidence to jam them both up; but she knew that they wouldn’t just let André walk for long. They’d stay on his ass until they exhausted all their options.
Honey was certain that once Olivia was convicted she’d work out a deal to testify against André and bring him down with her. She’ll be so shocked that she’s sitting in jail and he’s not, Honey was sure that Olivia will think that André had set her up and want to turn state’s evidence. So, either Olivia would handle André, or Honey would finish him off for good.
***
In Vegas, Olivia and Rosie’s pictures were splattered across every local paper. They were calling Olivia, “El Mastermind.” Somehow the FBI had made a connection to a Spanish gang that had probably fled to South America with the heist money. Rosie was placed on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list, and reported sightings of her were coming into the Bureau daily. The papers speculated on Olivia’s husband, André, but reporting that police still considered him a suspect.
**
*
Honey was able to begin setting up her life. She’d purchased a modest, three-bedroom beach house in the island of Antigua, overlooking white sand and baby blue skies. Meanwhile, back in the States, she began filtering small increments of money into Stephon’s business. Two thousand dollars here and there to start leasing more luxury vehicles. He never asked where the money was coming from, but if he did, she had an honest answer. Blackjack. Honey wasn’t so dumb as to invest any of her heist money into his business, because she was sure she was still under suspicion.
For now Honey divided her life between Antigua and Vegas. She was biding her time for when she could make a clean escape from Vegas and set up her new identity on the beautiful little island.
As agreed, Honey didn’t hear from the other girls, and that was a good thing. She knew that everyone was doing well; they’d risked too much to throw it all away on foolish things.
***
Just as Luther had promised, he gave Chief an amazing funeral that Honey didn’t attend, and from there he headed south and opened up a body repair shop and bought a modest house overlooking a lake. To Honey’s surprise, Cinnamon and her daughter followed Luther south and were living together as husband and wife. Cinnamon was the type that needed guidance and structure, and Honey could understand how she gravitated toward her father. She also realized a young girl like Cinnamon with all that cash could have easily spelled disaster.
***
Honey walked out into the hot desert heat after she got off the night shift at the Bellagio. Detective Hernandez, who was parked parallel to her Camry, sat perched on the hood of his late-model Ford Mustang.
As she approached, he hopped down and leaned on his passenger’s side door. “I’m watching you, Brown,” he stated.
“Good. Then I know I’ll always be safe.”
“You think you’re clever.” He rubbed his chin. “But there is no such thing as a perfect crime.”
Honey stopped in her tracks. “For the last time, I don’t break the law. I used to enforce it.”
Detective Hernandez laughed mockingly. “I ain’t buying that bullshit you trying to sell. It’s just a matter of time before I nail your ass to the wall. Just a matter of time before I come for you.”
Honey shrugged. “And just hypothetically speaking”—She paused and glared into his eyes, so he could feel her words. “If or when you do come for me, do you seriously think I’ll just let you take me?” Not allowing him to answer, she added, “Never forget my field training, Hernandez—because I don’t. Please don’t underestimate me.”
Hernandez’s laugh was full of sarcasm. “I’ll come like a thief in the night.”
“You’ll have to come harder than that.”
“Maybe I will,” Hernandez said under his breath. “Maybe I will.”
Dirty Money Honey Page 20