The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

  And relaxed.

  It was a storage closet.

  “Damn,” Monday said.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  We walked back into the living room.

  I said, “Now what should we- Don’t move, lady!” I whipped my piece up and pointed it at the brunette who was now standing in the doorway.

  “What’re you doing here?” she said. “Get out before I call the police.”

  “Already here.” Monday flashed his badge. “So keep still, Margaret.”

  “Margaret? I’m not Ms. Shelly. I’m the building’s concierge.”

  “Of course you are,” I said. “Where is she?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t be certain.”

  “Honey,” I said, “you can be all hazy vague. Just talk.”

  The woman looked at me, then Monday. “I don’t like to be indiscreet, but I believe she’s visiting her son at the hospital.”

  “Which one?” Monday asked.

  “Mineral Plains.”

  #

  “Take the parkway, it’s faster,” I said.

  Monday veered into the left lane and got on it. “You go to hospitals a lot?”

  “Just this one.”

  Thanks to my topographical knowhow we got to Mineral Plains quick. Monday parked and we rushed in. He stopped at the front desk and hit the bell.

  But I sprinted past him. “Follow me.”

  Monday got tight on my tail. “How do you know the way?”

  “Look down,” I said over my shoulder. “You see those colored lines? Each one leads to a different wing. The green goes to long term care.” Which we got to in no time. Behind the nurse’s station, in pink scrubs, was a small, bony gal.

  “Hey Mabel,” I said.

  She looked up from her computer. “Dane. It’s good to see you, Beatrice will be so-”

  “No,” I said, “I’m not… I have to see another patient. A young man by the name of Shelly.”

  “I know him,” Mabel said, “but you’re not family, I can’t let you in.”

  “Which is why I brought this.” I motioned to Monday.

  He pulled his shield. “Police business. I need to see that patient.”

  “Alright,” she said. “Robby’s this way.”

  We followed her down the hall, past the vending machines, beyond the bathrooms, and right by room 244 with the chart that had the same name as mine, to find Robby Shelly. He was under a sheet with so many tubes and wires running out of him he could’ve been a surge protector.

  “Where’s his mom?” I asked.

  “Margaret? She was here earlier.” Mabel looked at her watch. “But she left about an hour and a half ago.”

  “You know where she went?” Monday asked.

  “As a matter of fact I do.” The tiny nurse beamed. “The airport. She’s spending a few days in Brazil and then over to Mexico for a conference. But first she’s going to Argentina. All on a private jet. I hope she enjoys it, that poor woman deserves a bit of fun.”

  “Argentina?” My heart dropped. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. I think it’s a work thing, though she didn’t really say.”

  Monday’s shoulders slumped. “Great.” He turned and plodded out.

  I stared at Robby. He looked handsome. Peaceful.

  Mabel said, “So when are you going to see your mom? She’s doesn’t have much time left.”

  I looked down the hall and said, “Honestly Mabel, which one of us does?”

  #

  Monday and I went downstairs and took stock of the situation at a small table in the area they call a restaurant.

  “So that’s that,” he said. “Again.”

  “But at least this time we got our man. I mean woman.”

  “Do we?”

  “Yeah. It was Maggie Shelly. She has the money, access to the chemical, a rock solid motive, and probably intel on the Coconut’s security system. She hires Bundy to lure the boys into Wentorf Hall with the promise of diamonds, and pays Scourge to kill them both in a way that makes it look like they did it to themselves. Then she runs to a non-extradition country. The whole thing wraps up watertight.”

  “I guess.” Monday looked around. “Everything you say stands tall, but I don’t know about the foundation. I’d like to see a money trail, or a confession. Anything that could pass as hard evidence of her guilt because as of right now I find this deeply unsatisfying.”

  I thought about what Monday said. Would Widow be satisfied with nobody punished, and no hard proof? Maybe. I know I wouldn’t. Monday was right. It wasn’t satisfying. “You know, this is my first solo case. I mean real case.”

  The cop looked me over. “Really? You wouldn’t know.”

  “Well, I did a lot with my old mentor.” I thought about Carl. About his agency. And about the black capes and their families who wouldn’t be coming to it anymore. “I doubt he ever had one this disappointing.”

  “If he did this job for any length of time, I’m sure he did. Hell, I have.”

  I had nothing else to do but call Widow with the bad news, so I said, “Do tell.”

  Monday leaned back. “Years ago I caught this dead black cape on my beat. Shot in the back of the head while he knelt in Grime Alley. It was real gangland execution stuff, but the slug we pulled from his skull was police issued. All of a sudden nobody wanted to find the pistol that spat it, but I followed the trail back to a sergeant with the one-four who lost his brother to that same black cape. That gave me motive and means, but when it went to court-”

  “Stop,” I said. “You. Pressed charges? Against a cop? For killing a black cape?”

  He looked at me, like I was sort of funny. “Of course. And it wasn’t killing. It was murder. Anyway, all of a sudden the investigator that collected the evidence claimed she broke the chain of custody, so the perp walked.”

  “Wait. Are you talking about Mr. Boogety?”

  Monday nodded.

  I pushed my hat up. “Wow. No wonder you’re so popular with the blue boys.”

  “That’s the reason. And since we’re talking taboo, the name on the chart up there, is that your mother?”

  “It is.”

  “Sorry to hear it. How long does she have?”

  “A month tops.”

  The cop gave me the socially acceptable silence before he pried. “So how can you afford this big ticket place?”

  “If there are no further questions, my former profession provided me with a hefty savings which I passed over to this hospital, in full, for services they’re currently rendering.”

  Monday opened his mouth. But kept his tongue still. Finally he said, “Well, I’m sorry to say it, but the time has come for us to go our separate.” He extended his hand.

  And for a second time I shook the cop’s paw. “It’s been real,” I said. “Strange.”

  “Listen, take my number.” He passed one of his cards over. “Loop me in if you need a hand in the future. I could always use a pair of ears on the wrong side of the law.”

  “I will,” I said, “for the exact same reason.”

  Monday smiled. “Cute. Anyway, I’ll see you-”

  “Gentlemen?” A woman stopped next to our table. “You’re the detectives, right? My concierge said you’d be here.”

  We both turned to her.

  And I couldn’t believe it. The middle aged brunette looked exactly like she did in the profile pictures I’d seen the night before. Only instead of a suit she was now in a maroon sweater and cream slacks. I said, “What’re you doing here?”

  “I heard you were looking for me,” she said.

  Monday looked between the two of us. “Who is this?”

  I opened my mouth, which was drier than before, and said, “Detective Monday. Meet Margaret Shelly.”

  Chapter 35

  It was Monday who broke the silence. “Hello Ms. Shelly. Yes, that’s correct, we have been looking for you. Would you mind joining us?”

  “Not at all.” Mar
garet took a seat.

  I said, “We wanted to ask you a few questions about Leonard Thebes and Tony Marcus, also known as-”

  “Thermite and Firewall. I’m aware of the nature of this meeting. When I returned to my apartment the concierge explained everything. Though I must admit I expected you sooner.”

  “The nature of the crime,” I said, “precluded a novice from pulling it off.”

  Her spine went chilly stiff like a double vodka up. “I’m no novice.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend, but… We looked at the black cape community first.”

  “Probably a wise decision. But as we’re finally speaking I’ll tell you now what I’d have told you then, I didn’t wish those two harm.”

  “I’m sorry,” Monday said, “but you realize why that’s so hard to believe.”

  “Of course. My son Robert was injured when they broke into my home.” She pulled a kerchief from her purse that somehow looked more expensive than my shoes, and used it to clean a few tears away. “Tell me, do you have any children?”

  Monday said, “No.”

  I said, “Yes.”

  Both guy and gal turned to me.

  Margaret said, “Then you know. Killing those two wouldn’t heal Robert. He’ll never be healthy again, so their deaths would do nothing. For me, or my son.”

  “Forgive me,” Monday said, “but if that happened to me, I’d want revenge. And even if-”

  “Vengeance doesn’t heal you,” she said. “It just adds more corruption to the world. And besides, you can’t ever truly get even. Not for something like this. How could you?”

  I may’ve nodded, but like Monday, I wasn’t sure. Doodle and I weren’t close but I’d bash the head in of anybody who harmed her. Though maybe Margaret had a point. Burning Leo and Tony wouldn’t bring her boy back. And she seemed sincere. But like I said, I was unsure. “I’m sorry Margaret, I understand what you’re saying, but they took everything from you and only got five years. That had to gnaw like a worm in your core. Hell, it’s eating me, and I don’t got mud against them.”

  Margaret reached into her purse and produced a stack of letters. “I brought these from home. See for yourself what kind of boys they were.”

  I passed half to Monday, then started reading mine. It contained what you’d expect from jailhouse letters: note after note of apologies, explanation, and regret.

  But then the tone began to change.

  Discussions on the afterlife seeped into one. The next talked about their future. About education. Thermite asked how he could use his gift without a cape. Now I’m not the softest touch in town, but I sensed an honest concern that lacked any undercurrent of self-gain. “Were you writing back?” I asked.

  “Yes. Anthony reminded me of my older brother. He was a troubled youth as well, but straightened his life out. Which is why I was so surprised they tried to steal again. I can’t imagine why they broke into the museum.”

  Ever the cop, Monday said, “Did you think they were writing these to get leniency?”

  “I know they weren’t because I offered to speak on their behalf at the parole hearings, but both declined. They were so torn up by what they’d done. They welcomed the punishment. I think that’s why Tony stopped seeing his sister. He couldn’t face her, not after what he’d done,” Shelly said. “Sad, especially since it wasn’t their fault.”

  “What?” Monday said.

  “It wasn’t their fault. What happened to Robert. It was mine. When I built the security system I altered the gas main’s path, which was illegal of course. I also designed the shut-in protocol. Also illegal. Everything that protected my home was done below boards, and it certainly didn’t appear on the blueprints those two used to prepare. And for what? Stones? I even kept Robert from seeing his father that weekend out of spite. Leonard and Tony may have broken in, but if I’d obeyed any number of laws, my son would be whole. It was stupid. I was stupid. It was-” She inhaled sharp, practically sucking the air from the room, and the sobs poured out of her like a quick, crashing wave. Margaret dropped her head into her hands, and shook.

  I nodded to Monday.

  He returned it.

  Nobody would do what we thought she did, then come find us to talk about it. They definitely wouldn’t weep real tears like a monsoon. So we waited out the storm. And when the torrent became a drizzle Monday said, “Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry for bringing all this back up. But we had to be sure.”

  Shelly wiped away the final tear. “Of course. I understand.”

  “Good. Then you’ll also understand that I have to ask, where were you two nights ago?”

  “Oh.” She exhaled a long, drawn out breath, and transformed back to the executive she was. “Atlanta. There was a breakdown in one of our systems. Normally two technicians are on hand, but one’s out with appendicitis and the other’s on vacation, so I flew out personally. Contact Stronghold. They’ll corroborate my itinerary. Though from what I gather, if I were involved, I’d probably be out of town to cement my alibi. Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking,” I said.

  “But it is very helpful,” Monday said. “And I’ll contact your office about it.”

  “Excellent. That way you can move me out of the suspect pile and find out who did this that much faster.” She looked to Monday. “Now with that out of the way, can you tell me what the murderer used to burn Leonard and Tony?”

  “You don’t think they killed each other?” I said.

  “I know they didn’t. The chemical?”

  Monday said, “It was nitro-tri-phosphorus.”

  “That would certainly do it. Have you traced its source?”

  “No,” Monday said. “We checked with-”

  “Petey Jimenez over at Chemi-Labs, Laura Spinner at Panier?”

  “Yeah,” Monday said.

  “Both outstanding executives. So now you must be on your way to Allen-Fox?”

  “No,” he said, “we just came from there.”

  I asked, “How do you know all this? I mean Stronghold doesn’t work with chemicals, and those companies aren’t on your profile.”

  “Stronghold? No. But if you’d checked my history with Chemical Storage Solutions you’d have seen them. CSS is owned by Stronghold’s parent corporation, and my work there is kept separate. For tax purposes.” Shelly smiled. “But back to the case at hand. I’m confused. If the killer wanted to make it look like they murdered each other, then why did they have the ni-tri in the first place?”

  “To burn through the Kessel Glass,” I said.

  Margaret shook her head. “That wouldn’t work.”

  “What?” Monday said. “I saw that stuff burn steel. Not melt, burn.”

  “Oh yes. And while Kessel Glass is stronger than steel, it would burn too. If,” she said, “the ni-tri could pool on it. But as you know the display is vertical, therefore it would run off like rain on a windshield before it could work.”

  “So,” I said, “if there was no way to get to the diamond then it couldn’t have been a burglary. That means-”

  Shelly’s mouth opened. But nothing came out.

  “What?” I said.

  “It’s…” She took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t like talking about this, but I’ve worked with Alice Johan.”

  “The curator that got blown up?”

  “Yes. Another sad moment in her life, poor woman, but she’s why I know a little something about Wentorf Hall, and you’re wrong. There is a way to get behind the display.”

  “How?” Monday said.

  “The Kessel Glass can be moved. If Anthony accessed the panel on the wall he could’ve slipped it out of the way.”

  “Slip the glass out of the way?” I said.

  “Why would anyone put that in?” Monday asked.

  “Mostly to access the gems in case of an earthquake, but also for a much more practical reason. Every two weeks Alice audits the stones with a team of insurance and law enfo
rcement agents. In order to do that, the glass must be moved.”

  “So a thief could just slide it out of the way,” Monday said.

  “Not really. The Kessel Glass is five tons, and it’s attached to a precise pulley system that only has enough power to lift it two inches an hour, so once it’s activated it takes about half a day to expand enough for the diamond to be removed.”

  “Which means they’d still be waiting when the morning crew arrived,” Monday said.

  “Swell,” I said. “So the killer would have to be light enough to tread the pressure sensitive tiles, small enough to fit through the laser light show, and strong enough to heft five tons.” I thought of who it could be. Swamp could turn to liquid, his boy Vec was mighty strong, Gunmetal was electric poison, and Scourge was crafty. None of them could’ve escorted Firewall to the control panel, alone or together. “This seems impossible.”

  “No one said being a detective was easy,” Shelly said.

  I glanced her way. When I saw her picture last night I had a feeling we’d have nothing in common. I was right. We didn’t. But I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d like her this much.

  “Well, thanks for your help, Ms. Shelly,” Monday said. “If there’s anything else we’ll contact you.”

  I said, “And sorry about the door.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought. But in case you do wish to speak again here’s my direct line.” She pulled out a card and passed it to me. Then she got up. “Oh, and is Toby back yet? I heard he’d taken a few personal weeks. I was concerned it might be health related.”

  “Toby?” Monday said. “Who’s that?”

  “The VP in charge of processing, sales, and transportation at Allen-Fox. You spoke with him, right?”

  “We spoke to a guy named Errol,” I said.

  “Sam Errol?” Shelly laughed. “Errol’s a good man, but he’s also in charge of external relations. Which means he spins more than quality control at a dreidel factory. The man you need to talk with, the one who’s in charge of the nitro-tri-phosphorus,” she said, and slung her purse over her shoulder, “is Toby Teenie.”

  And the blood drained from my face. “Toby Teenie?”