The Price of Cash

by Ashley Bartlett

“It took you an embarrassing amount of time to figure that out,” I said. Reyes laughed.

  Finally, Mateo realized that I was ignoring him. He glanced at me once more, then let himself out.

  “So what’s up? Do you need help?” He stopped laughing suddenly. “Are you in danger?”

  “No. I promise. But now I have to go. Thanks for picking up.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, but Reyes started shouting so I lifted it again.

  “Hey, Braddock. Wait. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  “I know, but I’m on a time crunch. I’m sorry. I’ll call you in half an hour.”

  “Fine. But if you don’t, I’m tracking your phone.”

  I hung up. And wondered about his ability to track me. I’d have to check that out. I shrugged off my backpack. I shoved the small electric screwdriver in my back pocket. It was adorable and had just enough power to drill. The roll of tape, I slid over my wrist for easy access. In the main compartment of my backpack were two shoebox-sized plastic bins. I opened one. A perfectly constructed camera and transmitting device was inside. Each piece of equipment and the cords were carefully taped to the bottom.

  I dragged a stool to the door. We were lucky the ceilings were low, though I was sure Nate had considered that in his plan. I popped the rectangular ceiling tile up and angled it down. I jumped off the stool with my tile and set it over the trash can before drilling. White dust on the floor would have been a giveaway. I drilled, shoved the lens through the little hole, and carefully covered the entire contraption in fresh tape to keep it in place.

  My phone buzzed. I glanced at the readout.

  Coming up.

  Plenty of time. Nate would ensure that ascent took longer than Mateo’s descent. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and unlocked our transmitting iPhone. I checked to make sure the lens was unobstructed. It was. The phone was still recording and set to transmit. We had activated the whole thing in the car before walking over so the first twenty minutes of video would be the interior of my backpack.

  I climbed the stool again, which was a bit tricky now because the camera and phone made the tile unbalanced. I got the tile settled and kicked the stool back in place. I hopped up on the middle counter and popped out the next tile. I repeated my setup and video check. I jumped up on the table, put the tile back, and jumped down. Voices echoed down the hallway. I shoved everything in my backpack. The zipper seemed unnecessarily loud. I pulled up my recent calls and redialed Reyes.

  “So are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Reyes asked.

  “Not right now. But I promise I’ll fill you in soon. Right now I just need you to talk to me.” I moved to the far side of the room and looked out the window. The streetlights were warming up as the sun went down.

  “Okay. Let’s see. Umm, no one has died of a fentanyl overdose in the last week. Kallen said you guys might have a lead from that party so that’s cool. Thanks, by the way, for neglecting to tell me you were going to a party solo. I would have been backup, but that’s fine. Safety is overrated.”

  “Avoid case stuff,” I said.

  The door opened. Nate and Mateo nodded at me. I held up my hand in apology.

  “Sure thing. My ex-wife couldn’t take our daughter to the pedicure appointment that they had so I got my first pedicure. I’m now a pedicure advocate.”

  “That’s unexpected.”

  “You got a problem with men who like pedicures?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I was suggesting.” I hit him with some heavy sarcasm.

  “How long do we keep this going?”

  “You know, Luke, I’d like to continue this conversation, but I need to cut it short.” I smiled at Nate and Mateo and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  “Okay. You still need to call me back. Soon.”

  “Yes, of course.” We hung up. “Sorry about that, guys.”

  “No worries,” Mateo said.

  Nate must have severely overpaid him if he was tolerating this much rude behavior. Allegedly, I had asked for this meeting, then spent the first ten minutes of it on my phone. And my associate had demanded that Mateo hustle down, then up three flights of stairs.

  “Yeah, no big. I’m sorry I made you guys wait. I wonder if the cleaning crew knocked the door shut,” Nate said.

  “It happens all the time.” Mateo waved a hand. “I get weekly emails from the department reminding us to keep the stairwell doors closed.”

  Nate and I nodded. “So I don’t need anything from you, really. I just wanted to put a face to the name, make sure you’re trustworthy. Allay any fears you might have,” I said.

  “Yeah, sure. That makes sense.” Mateo shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against one of the tables.

  I realized that he was younger than I’d originally thought. And he was nervous. I wasn’t sure if his nerves were due to me or the situation. “Do you have any questions? Is there anything you’re concerned about?”

  Mateo shrugged. “No. I mean, I think Nate has been good about talking me through everything.”

  “I’m glad we did this. So now you know that Cash has your back too.” Nate clapped his hand on Mateo’s shoulder. Mateo relaxed a bit.

  “Totally.” Mateo grinned.

  “Exactly. You’re a valuable resource. The work you do is fantastic,” I said.

  Mateo lit up. “Yeah? Thanks.”

  “All right. We will get out of your way.” Nate stuck out his hand. Mateo shook it. Another two-handed shake.

  “Thanks again.” I held out my hand too and Mateo cupped it in both of his.

  “It was good to meet you, Cash. Do you guys need me to walk you out?”

  “No, we got it.” Nate shook his head.

  “Yeah, I think we can manage.”

  In the hallway, Nate asked, “We good?”

  “Yep.”

  We went down one flight of stairs. Nate led me to the men’s bathroom. It was the closest to Mateo’s lab, which was good. Nate climbed on the counter and popped out the ceiling tile. I pulled the laptop out of my bag, checked to make sure it was connected to the iPhones upstairs. The signal was strong. This idiocy might actually work. I made sure the external battery for the laptop was firmly taped to the back of the screen.

  “Everything operational?” Nate asked.

  “Looks like.” I handed the computer to him.

  He tucked the laptop into the ceiling and replaced the tile. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Nate braced himself on my shoulder and jumped off the counter. At the door, I waited for Nate to glance out and give the all clear. Chances were slim that Mateo would wander down to the second floor at the exact moment we were leaving, but it was better to err on the side of caution. Nate could just say he stopped to use the bathroom. Both of us would make it suspicious as fuck.

  We hurried back to the stairwell. Nate stuck his head in, looked up and down, listened. He nodded me forward. I didn’t take a full breath until we were outside.

  “So that’s done,” Nate said.

  “Hopefully, we get something from it.”

  “Hopefully, it’s something we can bring to your girlfriend. The murky legality might be a problem.”

  I shrugged. “All the information we give them comes from sources outside the law. I mean, that’s why they need us, right?”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  Nate probably should have realized how good I was at justifying practically anything. It was a questionable gift.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was almost eleven on a Wednesday morning and Cafe Bernardo was packed. Why didn’t these people have jobs?

  The waitress brought Reyes out to my table on the patio. He thanked her and slid into the chair opposite me.

  “Sorry I’m late. Did you get my message?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It’s no big. I just got seated.”

  “Thanks for meeting with me.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the w
aitress appeared with two mugs of coffee. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu? Or would you like me to come back?”

  Reyes looked at me. “You know what you want?”

  I nodded. “You?”

  “Amaretto French toast, please. Does it still come with bananas?” Reyes asked.

  “It does.”

  “Could I have strawberries as well?”

  “Sure thing.” She turned to me.

  “Eggs Benedict. Extra hollandaise, please.”

  “All right. Anything else for you two?” she asked.

  “We’re good, thanks,” I said.

  She smiled and left us.

  “You order breakfast like a chick,” I said.

  “You’re kind of a misogynist, you know that? Between that and your judgment of my pedicures, I’m feeling pretty attacked.”

  “Hey, I didn’t judge the pedicure.”

  “You didn’t support the pedicure,” he said.

  “I’m neutral about the pedicure.”

  He huffed. “Neutral is a cop-out.”

  “Fine. I support your love of pedicures. Now why did you want to meet?”

  “That support didn’t feel very sincere.”

  “Reyes.” I tried to use an authoritative voice, but Laurel was way better at that.

  Reyes grinned at me, then sobered. “I need to apologize for taking you to the station. That’s not how we are supposed to do things. I mean, it is. We treat CIs poorly all the time, but that doesn’t make it okay. I didn’t realize what was happening until far too late, but I should have stopped it and I didn’t. So I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I said. His apology was simple. I liked that. “Can you fill in any details about what happened?”

  “Not really, no. I can tell you that Gibson is on a warpath. He definitely is the one who filed the complaint against Kallen. That’s not really relevant, but I thought you should know. I’ll deny having said that, by the way.”

  “Any idea what he hopes to gain?”

  “Honestly?” It seemed like he was actually asking.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s just a jackass. Hates Kallen, hates me. Probably hates puppy dogs and sunshine. Definitely hates women, people of color, queers.” Just those minor things. “We all got thrown on this case together and he’s convinced we are blocking his access to the perp. I think he’s shaking shit up to see what will happen.”

  “So just those two hundred reasons?”

  “And I saw him throw out an ice cream cone once. Ate half and tossed it.” He mimed throwing something away.

  “No.” I aimed for incredulous. “So he’s a monster?”

  “Yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

  “So that’s like extra motivation to figure out this case before him?”

  “To spite him?” he asked. I nodded. “Damn right. Sometimes life is about winning.”

  “That’s not petty at all,” I said.

  “I know. You have any updates?”

  I was debating if I should tell him about Mateo when the waitress delivered our food. I spent the entire ninety seconds she was there deciding that I wouldn’t mention it.

  “How are those strawberries?” I asked.

  “They are a goddamn delight.” Reyes speared one and ate it. Like a man. So butch. “So updates on fentanyl?”

  “Um, maybe?” Dammit. I dug into my eggs Benedict. Maybe if my mouth was full, he wouldn’t follow up.

  “What does that mean?”

  Or not. I glanced around, but we were far enough away from the other diners. And the noise from the street drowned out their conversations so ours was likely indistinguishable. “If it involves, hypothetically, potentially illegal surveillance, do you want to know?”

  Reyes studied me. He did his thing where he pressed his lips together and thought hard. “Hypothetically, what are we talking about?”

  “For example, if we had a lead on someone possibly making their own pills in a lab at one of the universities, then maybe Nate and I would install security cameras in that lab to find out who that person was. Would you want to know that?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, okay. Then no updates.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said.

  We nodded at each other. It was too bad.

  “Maybe Kallen and I will get a hit from Pedro’s friends,” I said.

  “She didn’t give me much detail. What’s the deal? These are Pedro Morrison’s friends, right?”

  “Yes. His BFF slash former roommate was at the party. I told him I wanted to jump the guy who sold to Pedro.”

  Reyes stifled a laugh, then lost spectacularly. “Jump?” More laughing. “You’re going to jump him?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m big on violence. I like to punch people. With my fists.” I kept a straight face. Like a champ.

  “Of course. You’re very frightening.” He nodded, laughed, nodded again. “So, you’re going to jump this fellow.”

  “But to jump him, I need to find him. Dawson and his boys are going to ask around and find out who the dealer is.”

  Reyes stopped laughing. “Okay, that doesn’t seem terrible.” He smiled. “Sorry, I’m still thinking about your punching of the people.”

  “With my fists.”

  “Yes, that’s important. The fists.”

  I shook my head. “It’s like you don’t understand me at all.”

  “I’m sorry.” He took a drink of coffee and composed himself. “All right. So Pedro’s friends are going to ask around for you. That’s good. It’s separated from us. And it will mask our questioning because this group of kids will be asking the same questions.”

  “And there’s at least six of them. All pill users. All college boys. Prime customer base. So they might actually find out who it is.”

  Reyes looked impressed. “Well done, Braddock.”

  *****

  By the time I got home from brunch with Reyes, the temperature had hit triple digits. This summer was never ending. I turned on the air, got ignored by the cat, decided it was too hot for coffee, and officially hit boredom. I was a drug dealer with no drugs, no clients, and no clean money.

  My phone rang and I practically lunged for it. Who knew I was so bad at nothingness?

  “Hello?”

  “Cash?” The voice was familiar.

  I pulled the phone away from my face and glanced at the readout I had ignored. Patricia. Huh. “Patricia? Hey.”

  “Hi. I’ve missed you so.”

  I loved that she could be simultaneously sarcastic and sincere. “I’m sure.”

  “I think I might have a solution to your problem,” she said.

  “Which problem would that be? I’ve got many.”

  She laughed. “I told you. You’re too pretty to have problems.”

  “Right. I forgot.” I flopped on the couch. Nickels jumped up, perched on the arm of the couch, and watched me.

  “I believe I have a solution to your money laundering issue.”

  “You do?” This was news.

  “Since that article I told you about—the SN&R one—I’ve had people coming into the gallery trying to sell furniture and such. All old. Most of it is utter trash. A rare few vintage pieces. People are absolutely deluded about the value of the crap furniture they find in Grandma’s attic.”

  “I’m not surprised. People are deluded about most things.”

  “Yesterday, a woman came in with this jewelry box. Most darling little wooden inlays. I bought it for the shop of course, but she also had jewelry in it. We don’t sell jewelry. I would love to, but we can’t. When I was younger, I worked in a store that bought vintage wedding bands. I generally know what I’m looking at.”

  “Why don’t you buy and sell jewelry, then?”

  “It’s a different business model. The security alone is astronomical,” she said.

  “So you told this chick no?”

  “Yes, sadly. But one brooch I just had to have. So I bought it privately
, outright.”

  I tried to work through the implications. Nickels batted at my feet, which was helpful. “Did you pay her cash?” I knew the answer, but I needed to clarify.

  “I did not. We agreed on seven thousand. I wasn’t buying it for the store and I obviously didn’t have seven thousand cash on hand. I wrote her a check.”

  “Have you ever done this before?” I asked.

  “I have. When I first opened the shop, something similar happened. That was nearly a decade ago. Since then, I’ve privately purchased items on two occasions.” She paused as if she were reviewing the last ten years. “No, three occasions. A silver and opal salt and pepper set, a pair of earrings, and a single pearl. The pearl was only a few months ago.”

  “So the pattern wouldn’t be unusual.”

  “It would not.”

  “And you have cameras in the shop?”

  “I do. They used to only store about a week’s worth of footage, but now it’s digital. If I forget, the files just pile up indefinitely.”

  There was the mild issue of exposing Patricia to scrutiny. I didn’t love the idea of doing so. But she wouldn’t have mentioned it if she minded. “This could make your life very uncomfortable.”

  She laughed quietly. “You know, I don’t think it can.”

  “If someone decides to look into any of this, you’ll be questioned. It’s an unfortunate reality.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Aside from whatever privilege I already carry, I’m also currently divorcing a Sacramento County prosecutor who has managed to thoroughly screw himself over. My lawyer is doing everything short of hiring bodyguards to keep anyone with a badge far away from me.” She didn’t even sound arrogant. She was simply reciting facts. This was the world according to Patricia Chadwell.

  “Hmm.”

  “If a detective wanted to question me,” she made it sound like the most absurd thing she could think of, “if they were that dedicated, they would ask approximately two questions, absolutely by the book, then politely ask for my security footage. I’m very kind so I would comply, despite their lack of a warrant.”

  “You are very kind.” My tone bordered on sycophantic.

  “I know.”

  “And your footage would show Nate offering to sell you a ring, or whatever. You would have a discussion, then write him a check.”