“We should take the tape,” I said. “That’s the smoking gun.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Copper,” Michael said. “One of the things I did while I wasn’t sleeping was make a copy.” He got up and retrieved a boom box from the kitchen counter. “I tried to do it with my computer, but I’m not enough of a geek.” He punched the play button, and the three Js started talking. The recording was a little rough, but still completely intelligible. Michael clicked it off. “Finally, I just turned on the little recorder and let it play with this old boom box set on ‘record.’ It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. And Sierra’s going to take the original to work with her.”
“And put it in the office safe,” Sierra said.
“What about the check?” I said.
“I took a picture of it,” Michael said, “and I’m planning to tear it up in front of Julia.” He chuckled. “Sure never thought I’d rip up a check for a third of a million dollars—made out to me.”
“There’s one thing that worries me,” I said.
“One thing?” Michael said. “That’s nothing. I can think of a million.”
“Julia likes to tape stuff,” I said. “She might tape us.”
“Well, we aren’t going to say anything incriminating, are we?”
“We don’t intend to, but—well, she’s really smart, and we know she’s dishonest. That’s a dangerous combination. I mean, think about what she could do with the tape.”
“You’re right,” Sierra said. “Too bad you can’t use sign language.”
“Hmm,” I said, thinking. What if we took some paper along, and wrote down whatever we wanted to say to Julia instead of saying it out loud? It seemed kind of silly, but I floated the idea out to Michael and Sierra anyway.
“Julia will think it’s weird,” Michael said, “but making her a little uncomfortable isn’t a bad idea.”
“Wait,” Sierra interjected. “As long as we’re going to be paranoid—I’ll be right back.”
She returned with what looked like a picture frame and a couple of felt-tipped markers.
“Whiteboard,” she said, turning it around. “You can write on it and then wipe it off. No annoying evidence!” She smiled. “What do you think?”
I think we all felt silly, but there didn’t seem to be anything to lose by taking the whiteboard along.
Michael got up to refill his coffee mug, and before he sat back down, his cell phone rang.
“Good morning, Julia,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be there at ten.” He paused. “No. Ten.” Another pause. I could hear Julia’s voice but not her words. “It’s really going to have to be ten, unless you want to push it into the afternoon.” Julia’s volume increased a few decibels. “Okay, then. See you at ten.”
“Good work,” I said. “She can be pretty hard to resist.”
“All of a sudden, I’m finding it a lot easier,” Michael said.
:: :: ::
At a quarter of ten, I pulled up right behind Michael’s Jetta across the street from Jackman, Sarnoff, Saxon, & Cline. Their offices were near the county courthouse in a neighborhood that used to be residential. All the houses had been made over into offices, mostly inhabited by attorneys, architects, and CPAs.
I gave my name to the young Asian woman at the front desk, and she escorted me to a small office with two upholstered chairs, a wall of shelves and filing cabinets, and a secretary behind a desk. Michael was sitting in one of the chairs. The whiteboard was sticking out of his briefcase on the floor next to him, and the old boom box was in his lap. The secretary was on the phone. I sat down in the vacant chair and looked around. Whoever had done the decorating was fond of synthetic houseplants and paintings of boats, I noted. The shelves were full of the usual fat books with gold lettering on the spines you’d expect to find in a law office.
My eyes fell on an overfull trash can beside the secretary’s desk. Next to it was a cardboard box, and I could see that there were several old cassette tapes inside it. A black one with silver writing on it was on top.
“May I get you anything?” the secretary asked after she ended her call. “Coffee? Tea?”
“I’d like some water, please,” I said.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Michael said.
“With ice, please,” I said. Michael looked at me questioningly as the secretary departed.
As soon as she was gone, I stood up and moved closer to the box next to the trash can. I picked up the black cassette. The Phantom of the Opera. Original Broadway Cast. It was exactly like a tape my father had loaned me years back and I’d never returned. Damn! Could it be? I turned the tape over. Sure enough. There was the little stick-on address label my dad put on everything he lent to people. I checked the box again. Two more of my dad’s tapes were from my apartment, too—Jesus Christ Superstar and Annie. I hadn’t missed them because I hadn’t listened to them in ages. I don’t even own a cassette player anymore.
The fourth tape wasn’t mine, and it took me a moment to decipher the scrawl on its label. “Jason McK. as George Washington. 2nd grade. Mrs. Davis.”
Damn! Julia was not only behind my trashed apartment, she was responsible for the disaster at the McKimbers’ house, too.
Moving back across the room, I held the Phantom cassette out to Michael.
“Recognize this?” I asked.
“It’s Ted’s!” Michael said, looking at the little sticker. “But how—?” He looked at me and realized the truth at the same instant.
“I think whoever Julia hired took these to prove they’d really done the job even though they couldn’t find what she wanted.”
“Damn!” Michael said.
“Yeah,” I said. That fucking bitch! If she wanted her precious tape that badly, she was going to have to pay for it.
I had just enough time to stuff the cassettes into my backpack before the secretary came back with my water. My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid she might hear it as she handed me the glass.
“Hi, Michael!”
Julia Saxon strode out of her office, but she stopped abruptly when she saw me.
“Copper! Hello! What a nice surprise.” She looked from me to Michael and back at me. “Come on in.”
I was shaking as I passed her, and I prayed it didn’t show.
Julia shut the door behind us, moved behind her desk, and sat down. Michael and I each took a chair facing her on the other side. It was a big dark hardwood desk, so shiny that Julia was almost reflected in it. She folded her hands in front of her.
“Do you have the check with you, Michael?” she said.
“Of course, Julia,” my brother said. He set the boom box on the desk. His briefcase was in his lap. He pulled out the whiteboard, the two felt-tip markers, and two tissues. He handed me a marker and a tissue. Our eyes met, and Michael picked up the board. Before he could write anything, I grabbed it out of his hands. Michael was surprised, but he didn’t say anything.
“What are you doing?” Julia said.
I scribbled on the board and turned it toward her.
WE’RE GOING TO WRITE INSTEAD OF TALK.
“Okay … ” She dragged the word out, like a question. Good. We’d definitely caught her off guard. I turned the board around, rubbed out the words with the tissue, and started writing again.
“Michael—what’s going on?” Julia asked. But Michael was busy watching me write.
WE HAVE SOMETHING WE WANT YOU TO HEAR.
Michael punched the play button on the boom box.
I watched the color drain from Julia’s face as she recognized the voices. I started writing again.
YOU’RE GOING TO FIX THE PROPERTY DEAL.
“Okay,” Julia said, “Okay. But Michael, the check—”
Michael reached into his briefcase. This was the part where he was supposed to shred the
check, but—hold on! I grabbed Michael’s wrist, took a deep breath, and spoke out loud.
“The Alliance is very grateful for Landmark’s generous donation.”
“What?” Michael and Julia said it in unison.
“Copper—” Michael said, but I squeezed his wrist until my knuckles turned white. He let the envelope slip back into his briefcase.
“Michael has endorsed the check over to the Alliance, and he’ll deposit it today,” I said. “The money will be in the Alliance’s account by the end of the day, just as Landmark intended.”
I sneaked a glance at Michael. His mouth was open, but he still didn’t say anything.
Michael reached for the whiteboard, but I turned it toward Julia again and pointed to each word.
YOU’RE GOING TO FIX THE PROPERTY DEAL.
Turning it back, I erased the board and wrote:
WILLOW LAKE. NO MORE BLUEBIRD.
“Okay, okay,” Julia said. “But Michael—”
“We really appreciate all you’ve done, Julia,” Michael said. “You’ve been nothing short of brilliant.” I looked at him in amazement. He was actually getting into the spirit of things. So was I. I erased the board again and penned my next demand.
CLOSE BEFORE THE 31ST, OR THE D.A. GETS THE TAPE.
I had no idea if the D.A. was the right person to rat her out to, but her reaction was satisfying.
“We’ll get everything straightened out,” she said. “There’s plenty of time.”
Her forced smile looked more like a grimace, and I saw her hands shake before she hid them under her desk.
“I guess that’s all, then,” Michael said. “And thanks again—” I poked him in the ribs.
THERE’S ONE MORE THING, I wrote.
“What?” Michael and Julia asked in unison.
I NEED A CHECK FOR $25,000 RIGHT NOW.
“What?”
I erased and kept writing.
CASHIER’S CHECK TO RICHARD MCKIMBER.
“$25,000?” Julia said. “What for?”
JASON’S SCHOOL. IT CAN’T WAIT.
“It’s too much,” Julia said.
“So was this,” I said out loud. I pulled Jason McKimber’s cassette out of my backpack and held it up.
$25,000 OR IT GOES TO THE COPS, I wrote.
“That’s extortion,” Julia said in a tone so self-righteous I felt like laughing.
I pushed my chair back and stood up. I shrugged.
“Okay,” I said. “Come on, Michael.” I picked up the boom box and shoved the whiteboard under my arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
I actually made it to the door.
“Hold on, both of you,” Julia said. “Just hold on.”
I turned around. I pulled the whiteboard from under my arm and yanked the cap off my felt-tip pen with my teeth.
“Will you cut it out with the message board?” Julia said. “I’m not taping you. You’re being unreasonable.”
It took all my willpower to prevent myself from writing FUCK YOU on the whiteboard.
But Julia was sitting at her desk again. Two phone calls later, a check was in the works.
“You can leave that with me,” she said sweetly, pointing at the boom box.
I sighed and pulled out the whiteboard again. I uncapped my pen.
“Okay, okay,” Julia said. “Okay.”
The forty minutes we waited for the cashier’s check to be delivered from the bank seemed like fifteen years, and as we navigated our way back out to the street, I kept expecting a goon to conk us on the head and take all our stuff. But nothing happened.
When we reached our cars, Michael said, “You were pretty scary in there, baby sister. And I’m still not so sure I should take Landmark’s money—”
“You aren’t. You’re accepting it for the Alliance. I couldn’t see one good reason to let those thieves have their money back after what they did. Can you?”
“It’s blood money, in a way.”
“Launder it by using it for a good cause.”
:: :: ::
Fortunately, the main branch of the Bank of Nevada was less than a mile from Julia’s office. I followed Michael in the Max, still on the lookout for goons. We parked side by side and went in. There was no line in the bank, and less than twenty minutes after leaving Julia’s office, the Alliance’s coffers were fatter by $300,000.
“Phew,” Michael said when we were back out on the sidewalk.
“Hold the sigh of relief,” I said. “I’ve still got Richard’s check to take care of.”
“Could you at least take 30 seconds to clue me in, Copper? Who is he?”
I filled my brother in on the details of the McKimber saga he didn’t already know.
“I’ll tell you more later,” I said. “And you can tell me whatever fairy tale you’ve concocted for the other Alliance board members.”
Michael groaned.
“Copper, I think you committed extortion in there.”
“Let her prove it,” I said. We climbed into our cars. As I watched him pull into traffic, I hoped that whatever we had committed in Julia’s office wouldn’t come back to hurt my brother. If anyone ever deserved being named after an angel, it’s Michael.
I called Heather while I was driving. She answered on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s Copper,” I said. “I’ve got Richard’s cash. Can you get him and meet me at his bank?”
A moment of silence.
“Really? You got ten grand?”
“I got twenty-five.”
“Awesome!”
Heather and I agreed to meet at the Bank of Nevada on Warm Springs. It wasn’t Richard’s branch, but Heather said it would be easier to find. I liked the fact that it was in a large, busy shopping center. I was still feeling paranoid about whatever thugs Julia might keep on retainer for situations like this. I probably looked in my rearview mirror more than I looked though my windshield the entire way across town.
When I pulled off Warm Springs into the shopping center, I spied Heather’s truck immediately. Victoria’s blue Taurus was parked next to it. Both vehicles had American Beauty decals on the back windows.
Heather jumped down from her cab as soon as she saw me pull in, and Richard McKimber began to haul himself out of the Taurus. Jason had come along with Richard, but he stayed in the passenger seat, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses.
Without much fanfare or conversation, I handed the cashier’s check to Richard. He stared at it, then looked at me.
“What do I have to do for it?” he said. “Sign off on something? Cut off an arm?”
“Nope,” I said. “I think you can consider it a personal gift from Julia Saxon.”
“Awfully generous of her,” Heather said. “But I know better than to ask too many questions.”
“Just get it into your account,” I said to Richard. “I’m not going to relax until I know it’s securely yours.”
Richard grunted and headed into the bank.
“Copper,” Heather said. “Have you got that picture you showed me of the two guys from American Beauty? The cops were back this morning, and I’m getting kind of concerned. I get the distinct impression they might arrest Richard.”
“For killing Victoria?” I said. “But that’s crazy.”
“Maybe they won’t, but I think that photo might take the heat off. Or at least give them a couple other faces to suspect.”
“What about Marks?”
“He’s vanished. Classic rich-boy behavior. He’s probably sunbathing in the Cayman Islands while he waits for it all to blow over. But he isn’t the perp, anyway. I found out he went to the Wild Horse after he left the Beavertail the night Victoria died. That’s the brothel next door. Stayed there until morning. But anyway, American Beauty has a better motive.”
&
nbsp; In fact, I had the photograph Heather wanted in my shoulder bag, but I was reluctant to give it to her. I had stolen it, after all, and the last thing I wanted was to have to answer police questions myself. Especially now that I was an extortionist.
“I’ll call you later,” I said. “I’ve—I’ve got another appointment.”
“Where’s Daniel?” Heather asked as though she had read my mind. “I thought he was sticking around for New Year’s.”
“Yes, that was the plan.”
Heather studied me a moment.
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help.”
God. Help from Heather was a scarier thought than prosecution for theft.
“Thanks for getting the money, Copper. Cottonwood Ranch is going to be perfect for Jason.”
“Where is it?”
“Newberry Springs. Near Barstow.”
“I guess he can’t get into any trouble in the middle of the howling desert.”
“You’d be surprised what’s out there. They’ve got a lake. He can go waterskiing, even.”
I glanced at Jason as I walked back to the Max. He was studying his teeth in the rearview mirror. He sure loved that little vampire fang of his.
My phone rang while I was still in the parking lot. It was Daniel. He was at the Venetian on the Strip, and he asked me to meet him there.
:: :: ::
Daniel was leaning on a balustrade over the Grand Canal when I spotted him. The white wedding gondola was floating by, and a Danny DeVito clone in a red-and-white-striped T-shirt was singing “Volare” to a tiny Asian bride in a huge white dress and a sixty-something white guy in a tight black tux.
“That’s amore,” I said to Daniel, moving in next to him.
“Hi.” But he didn’t look at me. “I moved out of the Golden Nugget.”
“Where’s your stuff?”
“At the front desk.”
“You’re leaving?”
Daniel finally looked at me.
“I’ve got to do something,” he said. “But hey, this is Vegas. I’ve got a lot of choices.”
I turned away. Tears were welling up inside me, and there didn’t seem to be much I could do to stop them.
“Gamble. Get drunk.” He paused while the gondolier finished his song to a smattering of applause. “Get laid.”
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