Smoke Screen (The Darcy Lynch Series Book 2)

by Elin Barnes

  “Darcy.”

  He heard his name from behind and turned. Saffron was waving at him from the other side of the yellow tape. His gut wrenched, and he fought an overwhelming need to throw up.

  “Is Jon okay?” He reached her and lifted the tape for his girlfriend to duck under.

  “He was resting when I got there, but his mom says the doctors think the worst is over. It seems that because the bullets went through the car door first, the impact to his body was much less than it could have been.”

  “That’s great news.” He exhaled a breath of relief. “How come you’re here?”

  “I needed my computer. I heard about this on the news and figured this is where Virago sent you this morning. I thought I would just come and get my laptop, but they wouldn’t let me go through.”

  “I’m done here. If you can drop me off at the station, you can have your car back.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him.

  When they reached the car, she took the keys from him and jumped in the Mini. He sat in the passenger seat.

  “Bad case?” she asked.

  “Eleven dead. This is going to make the news big-time,” he said, looking over at the news vans, cameramen, and overly coiffed anchors trying to get the scoop.

  “Men and women?”

  “Yep, six women, five men.”

  Chapter 46

  When Darcy got to the station, Sorensen was gone. He wondered if his partner was pursuing a hot lead on the bank case and hadn’t told him. He dismissed the idea and decided to go talk to Mauricio at the lab. On the way there he thought about the multiple homicide case he’d just landed. He hoped Virago hadn’t assigned it to him to keep him from working on Jon’s shooting.

  Mary wasn’t in the reception area. Instead, a young guy who could have been Jon’s brother manned the entrance to the CSU Lab.

  “Detective Darcy Lynch,” he said, showing his badge. “I need to talk to Mauricio.”

  The receptionist punched a few numbers on the phone and waited, then left a voice mail after nobody answered. “I don’t seem to be able to reach him. Would you like to wait in the lobby until he comes to meet you?” It was more a statement than a question.

  Darcy looked at him, surprised. “I’d rather just go in and look for him myself.”

  “Nobody’s supposed to go in unescorted.”

  Before Darcy could argue, the doors to the lab opened, and a broad black man with a pockmarked face came out.

  “Detective Lynch, what brings you to my kingdom?”

  They shook hands.

  Darcy told him and then asked, “So, Lou, I can’t go in unescorted?”

  “Ah, new staff. They’re so cute.” Lou walked over to the receptionist and leaning over the counter, said, “Detectives can go in whenever they want. This allows our scientists to keep working instead of wasting their time having to come all the way to the front to meet them.”

  “Understood.” The young man fidgeted with the phone’s cord.

  “Okay then. Open the damn door for the detective.”

  The buzzer reverberated in the otherwise quiet room, and Darcy opened the door.

  Before he went in, Lou said, “Some nasty case, this new one. Good luck.”

  That didn’t sound like a good omen. Darcy headed toward the last room. He knew Mauricio and Rachel always fought for it because it was the largest one. While he walked, Darcy checked his phone to see if his sister had sent him any information, but he had nothing.

  Mauricio’s head bobbed as he listened to music. Darcy opened the door, and the tech pulled out his earbuds. Darcy heard faint dance music until Mauricio paused it.

  “Hello, Detective.” His smile was wide and genuine. “You only bring coffees for Rachel? I feel no love.” His smiled turned into a fake pout that made him look ten years younger.

  “My bad. We should go and get one now.”

  Mauricio checked his watch and then looked over at the full table. “Too much to do. Next time. Anyway, what brings you here?”

  “I was wondering if you had anything new on the van.”

  “We went through it with a fine-tooth comb as Sorensen requested, and I’m telling you, these guys were either really good, or they were wearing head-to-toe moon suits.”

  Darcy was silent. Nothing? he thought. His stomach tightened in a knot. “There was no way to get any identifiers in the car?”

  “No. We’ve tried everything.” Mauricio stretched his back. “I’m sorry, Detective. I know you really want to catch these guys.”

  Chapter 47

  Saffron decided to go back to her sister’s apartment. Maybe Aislin was back already, or maybe she would find a clue to where she was. On the way there, Saffron ran through what she’d learned from Darcy.

  He normally shared some basic information about his cases, but he’d been pretty quiet about this one. Darcy hadn’t met anybody from her family yet, and Saffron and Aislin looked different enough that he probably wouldn’t have made the connection. Since he didn’t volunteer much, she had to ask him questions, and she now wondered if she’d been too curious and raised his suspicions.

  She learned that two of the six dead women were Asians, one was an African American, and three were older Caucasians. Saffron was pretty sure that if Aislin had been in that house at all, she wasn’t one of the dead victims. Aislin could be dead somewhere else, but at least she survived that massacre.

  The apartment was exactly the same way she’d left it a few hours earlier. The laptop was open but asleep. She moved the mouse and saw the IM window flicker. Somebody with the alias of Madam X had sent Aislin a message.

  “Aislin, are you okay? I heard about what happened at de la Rosa’s house.”

  Another message followed: “Dammit, Aislin, I’ve called you a million times. I know you’re angry with me for sending you to that party, but at least tell me you’re okay.”

  The last message Madam X had sent said, “Fine. Have it your way.”

  The icon next to her screen name was green; Madam X was still online. Saffron sat on the chair and rested her fingers on the keyboard. She didn’t know what to say.

  She started typing, then deleted it. Wrote something else. Stopped. Then entered, “Why on earth did you send me there?” She read it out loud, deleted it and finally wrote, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” and hit Send without rereading.

  She crossed her fingers and waited. A whole minute passed, and she thought she’d blown it. Then rolling dots appeared on the IM screen. Madam X was typing.

  “Yes,” she said out loud and punched the air with her fists.

  “I’m sorry. There’s no way I could have known that something like that was going to happen.” Madam X paused and then started writing again. “They’re old clients. Group stuff, nothing super-kinky . . . Exactly what I told you.”

  Saffron pulled her hands away from the keyboard as if it were on fire. “Oh God, Aislin,” Saffron said to an empty room.

  “So what happened?” Madam X asked. “Are the others okay?”

  Who were these people? What had they got Aislin into? Could she be involved in murder? No, that was ridiculous. But could she? Saffron would have never thought her little sister would become a prostitute, and here she was going to group parties where nothing super-kinky was expected. And she definitely had a thing for bad boys. Oh God.

  “Not over IM. Let’s meet.”

  Saffron knew she couldn’t play her sister for much longer. She needed to get this Madam X in a place where she couldn’t run away from her too easily.

  “Regular place?” Madam X asked.

  “Crap,” Saffron said, but didn’t type anything.

  Before she could come up with a clever way to ask exactly where the “regular place” was, Madam X started typing again.

  “Never mind. Let’s go to the Cotto Lounge. I could use a mojito. It’s already past noon.”

  Saffron checked her watch. “I’ll meet you there in an hour,” she typed, an
d after getting confirmation she closed the computer and rushed off.

  On the way to the hotel’s bar, she stopped by her condo to pick up the can of mace Darcy had gotten her when they first met. He’d told her to carry it in her purse at all times, but she always forgot to transfer it whenever she changed handbags.

  There was an accident on 280 right before the exit to Sand Hill Road, and traffic was backed up for miles. When it finally cleared, Saffron had to drive like a maniac to get there on time. She pulled up and gave the keys to the valet. He called after her to hand her the ticket.

  The hotel was spacious, luxurious, and the restaurant was airy and warm. She walked past it into the bar, which was much smaller. It was not very crowded, but there were enough people for Saffron to wonder who Madam X was. After a careful sweep without finding any likely candidates, she settled at the bar and asked for a drink.

  The bartender’s name was David. His hair was messy and styled with product, every lock a different length, as if the stylist was having a seizure while cutting it. Oddly enough it suited him, making him look cool. Over the collar of his black shirt she saw the edge of a cyborg tattoo.

  “That’s some interesting artwork.” Saffron pointed at her own neck when he set the glass of Shiraz in front of her.

  “You should see the one on my back.” He winked.

  Saffron wondered how many times he’d said that since he got the tattoo. She took a sip. The wine warmed her mouth. She turned around and scanned the room. A few more people had walked in, but nobody fit her preconceived idea of what a high-scale madam should look like.

  When David came by to squeeze a lime around the rim of a glass, she decided to risk it.

  “Do you know anybody named Madam X?” she asked.

  David eyed her for a minute. “Are you a cop?”

  “No. No, of course not.” Saffron blushed, thinking a cop would say exactly that.

  David looked past her toward the opposite wall. She turned around and saw a massive print of John Singer Sargent’s MadameX. Saffron almost laughed. Underneath it, sitting in a plush sofa, was a handsome black man in a steel-gray suit, purple shirt, and matching tie. It couldn’t have been more cliché.

  “Seriously?” she asked David.

  He nodded. She left a twenty-dollar bill and went to get some answers.

  Madam X sat straight. He almost looked statuesque. His eyes were slivers, and only his thumb moved, drumming against his knee. As Saffron got closer, she could see that even if his head was not moving, his eyes darted across the room. He loosened his tie a smidge, then adjusted his collar. Saffron reached him and sat in the chair across from him. He looked at her and started to say something, but Saffron put her palm up a foot away from his face.

  “I’m Aislin’s sister. You’re going to tell me what the hell you got her into,” she said.

  Madam X looked toward the door. Saffron wondered if he was weighing his chances of running. But then she saw two goons and swallowed hard. Madam X was communicating with his bodyguards.

  “Don’t even think about it.” She put both hands on her knees and leaned toward him. “My boyfriend’s a cop, and he’s here. He’ll have you arrested before your boys can touch me.”

  Madam X sighed audibly and drank the rest of his mojito. “So, you don’t know where she is either,” he said.

  Chapter 48

  Ethan summoned everybody to his house but refused to talk until they were all there. When Mac finally arrived, he gave him a beer from the fridge and said, “The police came to talk to Bishop and me.” He left out the fact that it had been yesterday, before the job.

  The room was quiet, but Ethan felt the anxiety building in the air. They all looked back at him without a hint of defiance. Bishop may still not get it, but everybody else did. In the eighteen jobs they’d done together, Ethan had proven that he always had their backs. Not only was he fattening their pockets fast, but every one of his missions had been successful.

  “Two detectives came to see us. One talked with me, the other took Bishop for a little stroll.”

  He saw a few furtive glances at the new member. Everybody knew he was the weakest link. Bishop picked at the scab on his lip.

  “We agreed to talk to them to gather information. It was the easiest way to find out how much they know. At this point”—he paused to make sure everybody was hanging on his every word—“they have nothing. It was a fishing expedition. They were claiming that they could put Bishop at the bank scene, but we know he was in the car. We got more out of that visit than the police did.”

  Bishop looked more composed. Ethan thought that the visit from the detectives had actually made him feel better.

  “The van is a different story. They’ve been able to identify Malik as the corpse from the burnt van, so it’s only a matter of time until they tie him to the bank.” Looking at Curtis, Ethan asked, “All identifiers were removed from the vehicle, right?”

  Ethan was sure they had been but knew that some confirmation would reassure the others, because they trusted Curtis.

  “Absolutely. Pulled the VIN number off the dash, firewall, the driver’s door, and trunk. I removed all the registration papers and made sure to wipe every inch of the van. Just like the Austin job.”

  Ethan nodded. “Mac, did anybody see you when you torched the van?”

  “No worry if they did. I was in full disguise, so any witness would lead them to look for a fat black dude with dreadlocks wearing sweats and a dirty hoodie.”

  Ethan smiled. This was why he’d kept this crew together for five years.

  “I think we are as covered as we can be. Now we need to finish the job and go on a long vacation.”

  “We should get paid more,” Barr said.

  Ethan’s black eyes honed in on him. “Has there ever been a time when I didn’t pay you what you were worth?”

  Barr got up and walked to the fridge, as if the scrutiny from the other men had suddenly made him thirsty.

  Ethan waited for his answer. He knew everybody was thinking the same thing, so he was curious about what they would do.

  “You always pay me what I’m worth.”

  “Then I suggest you worry about getting the job done and leave the rest to me.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know. I also know that when things get ugly, people start questioning things. We have a job to do. When the job’s done, we’ll all get what we deserve. And then some,” he promised, and raised his beer bottle.

  They all toasted, smiling for the first time that day.

  Chapter 49

  Madam X asked for another mojito. Saffron thought he was just buying time, to figure out what he wanted to tell her, or how much he wished to share.

  “I know about the prostitution,” Saffron said.

  X looked behind Saffron, probably searching for the cop boyfriend she’d mentioned. Finally, nodding slightly, he said, “Very well.” He took a sip of his brand-new drink and leaned back against the swanky sofa.

  “I got a call from one of my regulars yesterday. He said he wanted to get into this particular private party he’d heard about.”

  “Why?”

  “Honey, in my line of work, when somebody hands you a really large sum of money, you don’t ask why.” His tone was a bit condescending.

  “Whose party was it?” she asked.

  “Did you watch the news today?”

  Saffron thought about the huge house she’d met Darcy at, surrounded by police cars and flanked by news vans. The same address she found in Aislin’s computer calendar. She thought about the dead, and wrapped both arms around her chest.

  “Go on.” Her brain was racing, but she was unable to formulate any questions that made sense. She didn’t even know where to start, and she wished Darcy were doing this with her, but knew better.

  “That’s all I know. I was hoping Belle could tell me what the hell happened at that place.”

  “Belle?”

  “Your sister’s w
orking name.”

  “Right.” Saffron looked around. “How did you know about the party?”

  “You don’t know how this works, do you?” Madam X asked.

  Saffron shook her head. The bar was getting crowded, and she started to feel suffocated. She wished they could go outside, but it was too cold.

  “These adult parties work one of two ways. Either people know each other and they just get together—sort of like a Fourth of July barbeque but with a lot more exposed skin and a lot less potato salad—or they know a few people but not enough to make it a party, so they hire professionals. When they go through a third party, the agency not only provides the mavens but may also bring in others who are curious to participate but don’t have the connections yet.”

  X stared at Saffron, probably checking if she was following.

  “How many people did you hook up?”

  “I set the client up with Belle, and I provided dates for two other gentlemen.”

  “Have you heard from anybody?”

  “No,” X said.

  “There were six dead women in that house and five men,” Saffron said. Her voice was more accusatory than she had intended. “Do you know everybody who was there?”

  He plucked a mint leaf from his tall glass and chewed on it for a few moments. His face looked ashen under his dark skin.

  “I’ve known the host and his wife forever. They were two of my first clients. Three of the girls were mine, including Belle, and I know their dates fairly well. I don’t know who else was there.” He finished his drink. “That’s another thing I wanted to talk to Belle about. Under regular circumstances, we would have done a debrief after the party. I’m always looking to find ways to expand the business.”

  “Of course you are,” Saffron spat.

  X fixed his eyes on her. “You said you wanted to know how this worked.”

  “Do you know if the guy you sent Aislin with was one of the dead?”