by Camel Press
Cat stood up, too. This was too much. Her stomach was churning and if she didn't get out of here, Savannah was going to be shopping for a new Persian rug. She snatched her bag off of the wooden tiger, but before she could make for the door, Joel blocked her path. Even with her high-heeled wedges, she couldn’t come close to meeting him eye to eye, but refused to let his height intimidate her.
“No, you don’t. Answer me. What’s going to happen to me?”
She swallowed hard, and took a moment to play out her response in her mind. Before today, she’d thought he was different from the other three, that he might even respond to a guilt trip. Now it was clear that Joel didn't care about the disappointed city or his dead friend. But his question made one thing clear: he did still care about himself.
“You’ve got to make this right.” She pointed to the gold phone on the coffee table. “Either you call Roger Aiken or I do.”
He rapidly shook his head vehemently. “Can’t we just come to some agreement? I could talk to the guys, maybe we could cut you in for—”
“Stop. Right. There.” Cat clapped her hands together. “I can’t be bought, so please don’t throw gasoline on the fire. I wouldn’t take a dime from you.”
“Fine.” He raised his chin high. “Just remember, if you rat us out, you’ll be ratting out your brother, too. Would you really do that to your own family?”
There it was. She was unwittingly the final player in their scam, after all. Only, the millionaires got their payoff in the form of cold cash; her only reward would be a semi-clear conscience. If she exposed them for the selfish cheaters they were, she went down in history as a horrible sister, second only to Cleopatra. The headlines would go from what kind of reporter hosts unsanctioned poker games to what kind of monster sends her own brother to prison?
Joel stared down at her, a bitter but triumphant smile on his face, proud to have caught her in this pickle. His arrogance made her wonder if the schemers had already discussed this angle. Cat challenged his daring eyes for a few seconds.
“I’ll show myself out.”
She shoved past him and threw open the double doors, her black leather wedges clomping with each weighted footstep toward the foyer. She took one last look at Joel and his ostentatious home, fighting the urge to acquaint him with the pointy toe of her Italian shoes, and slammed the front door behind her.
Chapter 22
“Quinn? Quinn!”
Cat slammed the front door behind her and charged down the hallway to the living room, but only Benji sat on the sofa. He gave her a startled look. “Jesus! What’s a matter?”
She was dashing from room to room. “Where’s Quinn?”
Benji paused his videogame and sat the controller on the coffee table, hopping up. “When I got home a half hour ago he wasn’t here.” He placed his hand on her arm and searched her face for a clue. “Why? What is going on?”
“I am going to kill him.”
She turned on her heel and threw upon her office door. Her anger melted into despair. The room appeared as it had a week and a half ago. Quinn’s clothes, which had previously been strewn all over the floor, were gone. The futon that he had slept on for the last week and a half had been propped back into its sofa position and the blankets messily piled on top. Worst of all, his duffel bag was no longer in sight. Her eyes fell to a piece of paper lying on her cleaned desk, the gold signet ring she’d stumbled upon earlier in the week now serving as its paperweight. Written on her baseball-shaped stationary, it said:
Sorry, Cat. Don’t hate me forever, okay?
His scribbles blurred as tears sprang into her eyes. She crumpled it in her palm. “Damn it.”
Benji took the note out of her hands and opened it up. “Sorry? About what?”
“Turns out Detective Kahn was right and Ryan didn’t fall off our balcony. Quinn pushed him.”
“What? Why?”
“Ryan didn’t want to throw the playoff series.”
“I don’t understand. I thought he was your best pitcher.”
Cat cocked her head. “No, not throw-throw. Throw, as in take a dive, lose on purpose, you know, cheat.”
“Cheat?” He snapped his fingers. “The gambling. That’s why Quinn made so much money. But if Ryan wouldn’t go along with it—”
“It wasn’t just him. They’re cheaters, all of them. Adam, Joel and Damien.”
“Damien? The one who died?”
“Not before he had a chance to join in on the fun. I think it got to him, though. That’s why he was drowning his sorrows the night he died.”
“So Adam and Joel played so badly last night on purpose?”
“The whole series, actually.” She thumped herself on the forehead. “I should’ve known something was up. It was weird enough that Adam tanked once, but he was off every time he took the mound.”
“Quinn orchestrated the whole thing?”
“He was making so much money … I don’t know why I didn’t see it.” She shook her head. “That bastard.”
“Damn.” Benji ran his hands through his hair. “I was really starting to like him, too.”
“Yeah, well, this is what happens when you trust a McDaniel.” She caught his surprised look and shrugged helplessly. “Other than me, that is.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“What choice do I have? I was going to give him a chance to explain, but this,” she pointed to the empty room, “speaks for itself. I have no choice but to go to Kahn.”
“Detective Kahn? Won’t Roger have a problem with that?”
That was the million dollar question. Cat rubbed her temples, hoping to suss out a million-dollar answer.
Benji waved a hand in front of her face. “Cat?”
“Roger’s the general manager. These were his three players.”
“Are you saying you think he was involved?”
“No!” Cat shook her head vehemently. “Of course not. Roger would never. He’s a good man.”
“But?”
“But ….” She didn’t want to admit this out loud. She felt like she was sullying the baseball legend’s name just thinking it. “He’s not a martyr. He’ll know what kind of nightmare this is going to bring on the team and himself. And Quinn, too, although I don’t think that’ll keep him up at night.”
Benji snorted.
“Roger’s been a Soldier for the last thirty years,” Cat continued. “He’s programmed to protect this team.”
“You think he’s going to sweep it under the rug? What is it they say, ‘handle the matter internally?’ ”
She answered with a simple shrug. Maybe he would reprimand the guys, but that’d be even worse. Discipline had never been Roger’s strong suit. Just ask Paige Aiken. Her papa bear had “punished” her for being expelled from college by sending her to the Caribbean for a month. What penalty awaited Adam and Joel, a Mediterranean cruise?
“The truth will come out eventually. It always does,” she said finally, “and when the story breaks, it’s going to be much worse for Roger if it looks as if he condoned it.”
“Hey, you know me. I’m all for going to the cops,” Benji said. “I’m actually glad I don’t have to twist your arm to be safe and smart this time.” She smiled appreciatively. She’d never admit it, but she liked having him worry about her.
“What about your brother?” he asked.
So much for that sentimental smile.
“What about him?”
“Did you try to call him? Maybe … I mean, you can’t just report him without … not that I would blame you if you did.”
“I didn’t even think about it. The whole twenty minutes home from Joel’s house I was too busy trying to think what I was going to say to him when I saw him. I didn’t expect him to be gone when I got here.” Cat grabbed her cellphone out of her back pocket and dialed. She nodded at Benji.
“It’s ringing.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know.” He rested his hand on hers and pulled the phone away
from her ear.
A muffled ring was coming from across the apartment. They followed it to the kitchen.
Cat flipped the lid on the trash can, where the black cellphone sat atop a couple of pieces of uneaten pizza.
“Should I answer it or do you want to leave a message?”
“It was a burner.” She scoffed. “I should’ve known. The only indispensable possession Quinn has is his motorcycle. That stupid bike is all he cares about.”
“Hey, that’s it!” Benji rushed around to the other side of the countertop and pulled out the grocery list notepad, flipping through to the back page. “Last week, I had to give the apartment manager Quinn’s vehicle information so they wouldn’t tow his Harley while he was staying here. Maybe we can track him with it. Yeah, right here, it’s a 2008 Harley Davidson Fat Bob, red, license plate 838—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Cat leaned against the countertop. “Criminals that throw away cellphones and don’t have a permanent residence aren’t up to date on vehicle registration. He probably lifted those plates on his way into town and tossed ’em in our dumpster on his way out. There’s a reason he’s never been arrested and it’s not because he’s a choir boy. Quinn knows how to cover his tracks.”
“Okay, but I doubt he had time to get a paint job or a new bike. You could at least alert the cops of his make and model. We don’t know when he left. Maybe he’s still in the area.”
“You said you’ve been home for the last half hour. He could be in Canada by now.”
“It’s worth a try. The sooner you call, the sooner the manhunt begins and the better chance they have of extraditing his sorry ass.”
Cat noticed she was gnawing on her index fingernail and quickly pulled it away from her mouth. “I don’t know.”
“I know he’s your brother but Cat, he really screwed you over here.”
“Trust me, this isn’t about familial loyalty. He is my brother, same last name and everything. Once the media hears that it was a McDaniel who broke our ace’s arm and orchestrated a dive, I’m in even deeper. I wish there was a way to out the players and leave the McDaniel name out of it.”
“Well, there’s not. Joel, Adam and Ryan are going to point the finger faster at Quinn than you can say plea bargain.”
“I know. Joel already extorted me with that.”
Benji scoffed. “So Joel and Adam are just going to get away with this? What’d they get out of their part anyway?”
“What do you think? The only thing guys like them understand.”
“Money?”
“Cha-ching.”
“Wait a sec. If they were betting on the games, too, then there’s a paper trail.”
“They didn’t. Joel said they were being compensated for their parts and—” Cat paused. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Remember how I told you that players who go to the postseason get bonuses and the better they do, the bigger the bonus? If the team had won this series, the guys stood to gain around one hundred twenty thousand dollars each. Joel, Adam and Damien had to be getting more than that for their participation or what would be the point?”
“Nice bonus. I wish I got that kind of money every time the biology club did a beach sweep.”
She gave him a little shove. “What I’m saying is that Quinn doesn’t have that kind of change, even after his winnings.”
“Maybe somebody else was betting on the games, somebody whose bankroll was significantly higher.”
“Or maybe Joel wasn’t telling the truth about not gambling. If he was stupid enough to do this, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“Joel, perhaps. But Adam doesn’t strike me as an idiot, even with the mohawk.”
“Only one way to find out.”
She ripped a paper towel off the roll and wrapped it around Quinn’s tossed cellphone in the trash can. She sat it on the counter and blotted it with another towel.
“Ew.” She wiped the cheese grease off the buttons and thumbed through the call history, but the screen was blank. “Nothing. See? He’s the master of covering his tracks.”
As she moved to throw the phone back in the trash, Benji snatched it out of her hands.
“Uh-uh. I’ll recycle that. A hundred and thirty million of these are going to hit the landfills this year and recycling them would save enough energy to power East Amherst for a year.” He frowned at the trash can. “Shame on Quinn for throwing it out.”
“Shame on Quinn for a lot of things.” Cat considered her options. “Maybe Grams has a way to contact him.”
Benji began to remove the battery from the back of the cellphone. “Maybe … I mean, I’m just saying, the season’s over, the damage is done. You have a point, if this is all out in the open, all it’s going to do is bring the attention back to you.” He shrugged. “Maybe this way we can get our lives back and start focusing on us, you know, the wedding and everything.”
Ah, so we can replace one nightmare with another.
“Yeah, but you should’ve seen Joel’s supersized McMansion. It’s hard to let that go.”
Benji shrugged again, half of his attention still on the cellphone.
“Maybe I could find a way to deal with this whole mess if they were spending the profits on something that actually advanced society, but those guys are trash with money. They’re throwing it away on Faulk Flips and mehmaan khanas.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask. A special Hindu-inspired room in Joel’s house.”
“So, basically, their egos.”
“And when it comes to that, the sky’s the limit. Who’s to say they won’t try this same scam next year on their own? Or a year after that?” She ran her hands through her hair. “I’d just love to get five minutes with Quinn.”
Benji nodded and crossed his arms. “Okay. Let’s find him then.”
“How?”
“Didn’t your grandma say he was in Key West this summer?”
“He wouldn’t go back there. Quinn has a way of burning bridges on his way out.”
Benji made a sweeping gesture around the apartment. “Obviously. He had to go somewhere, though. Do you know any of his friends?”
“Quinn doesn’t have any friends, only business acquaintances. Joel and Adam wouldn’t know anything ….” She stopped drumming her fingernails on the countertop and met his eyes. “But there is someone else in town Quinn was partial to. Feel like taking a ride?”
“Isn’t this the same spot we parked in the other day?”
Cat looked around the packed riverfront parking lot. “Let’s hope one of these cars belongs to Webbs. She and Quinn seemed to have a little more going on than just sportsbooks.”
Benji frowned at the permanently-docked casino ship. “I hope we get something out of this. Last time we were here, the cigarette smoke upset my allergies so badly I had to cancel my morning class.”
“How manly.” Cat immediately regretted the careless remark. She added a cute smile to let him know she was only teasing.
But Benji didn’t take offense. “Well that, and I had to singlehandedly take on the rugby team, you know, show ’em how it’s done.”
“Of course.”
She flashed her ID to the security guard at the entrance and the two of them entered the seedy riverboat. They maneuvered around the game tables on their way to the sportsbook station. A wolf whistle rang out from over the jingle of the slots. Sure enough, Webbs waved at her from a perch in front of a slot machine.
“Webbs! Have you seen—”
“I don’t have a clue where your big bro is.”
Cat shared a suspicious look with Benji. “I didn’t even ask you anything.”
She circled one of her lengthy fingernails in Cat’s face. “You didn’t have to, Strawberry Shortcake. It’s written all over your face like those freckles.”
“Come on, Webbs, give me something. Can you at least tell me, has he been here today?”
W
ebbs turned back to the slot machine and pulled the crank. The marker landed on three different fruits. She frowned and faced Cat again. “Nope. Trust me, I’d know if he had. He stands out in this crowd.”
She followed Webbs’ nod to the craps table across the room. It was surrounded with an obese group of women, each squeezed into glittered dresses. A gaunt man in a stained white tank top and torn jeans walked up to them and put his spindly arms around two of them. A cigarette hung from his mustached lips.
Webbs wrinkled her nose. “As you can see, the Snow Bird isn’t known for its discriminating guest list. Yummy eye candy like your brother tends to attract notice on top of this compost heap.”
Cat took a deep breath. “Yes, well, his edibility aside, I need to find him. He left town without giving me a forwarding address. Since you were the person he was closest to in town, I thought maybe you could help.”
Webbs took a slow drink from her martini glass. “Sorry, can’t help ya. I figured he was out of here after that last bet. He cleaned up on the Soldiers’ demise.”
“How much did he get?”
If Cat knew how much he’d taken with him, she might have a good idea where he was going.
She raked her blood-red fingernails through her spiky black hair. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?” Benji asked. “Are you handcuffed to some bookie/better confidentiality clause?”
“As a matter of fact, Blue Eyes, that’s correct. It doesn’t have to be a law to be my policy. Keeping my lips shut keeps my clients happy. You’d be surprised how many estranged spouses come in here asking the same questions you are.”
Cat snapped her fingers to get Webbs’ attention back to her. “I’m not trying to get a juicy divorce settlement, I just want to find my brother. If I knew how much cash he had on hand, it might point me in the right direction.”
“Ah. So you want to know if his budget is more Paris, France or Paris, Illinois?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay.” She finished off her martini and twiddled the toothpick before plucking off one of the olives between her teeth. “I’ll play along, but only ’cause you asked nicely. If I was checking passenger manifests, I’d go international.”