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“JUST LET THEM TAKE it from here,” suggested Gordon. I had called him after spending ten minutes outside my mother’s office, hoping that I would hear something of Patrick’s statement through the closed door that would get me closer to the guy that stabbed Matty.
Spoilers: I did not.
Agents Alexander and Martinez had given me a cold reception as they walked into my mother’s office. That was followed by an equally cold one from Ito as she passed me. Detective Kemble, on the other hand, chuckled, slapping me on the shoulder. He kept it up until the door closed in my face.
Not quite the reception I had expected for finding Patrick Beverly. Some of it I could chalk up to professional jealousy; after all, it seemed, I was the one closing the case. But the Beverlys? Especially how Eva treated me? I just didn’t get it.
After Nora caught me with my ear pressed against the door, I reconsidered my choices and called Gordon Bixby.
“I don’t know, Gordon. If I had let them take it, Patrick could still be a hostage — or worse.”
“Jimmy,” he said flatly, “I don’t know if this is quite the win you think it is.”
I put my feet up on my desk and looked out at the view. It was another clear morning, and I could see all the way to the ocean, where the moisture hadn’t burnt off yet. “Patrick is back home; the guy behind the whole thing is dead. Those diamonds are hot as fuck, so what are the chances the guys involved are going to be able to fence them? This is the easy part.”
Gordon cleared his throat. I could hear him shift in his chair. “Let’s reconsider being involved. You haven’t made friends with the FBI, and it doesn’t sound like your girl Ito is particularly happy with you.”
“She’s not my girl. And like, ‘my girl’? Who says that anymore? Are we going to do the Twist at the sock hop later?”
He snorted. “My point is — ”
“I understand your point.” I sighed. I didn’t want to tell him how much I hated the situation. It didn’t seem right to walk away now. I turned away from the view. “How can I let them handle finding Matty’s killer?”
“I know how you’re feeling, being so close to the finish line, but you gotta let them take it the rest of the way.”
It was sound advice coming from a man who really knew what he was talking about.
Gordon sighed. “But you’re not going to do what I’m suggesting, are you?”
“I’d love to Gordon...”
He grunted, then said, “You get in their way, they’ll arrest you for interfering.”
“The LAPD wouldn’t do that again.”
“I’m talking about the FBI. Don’t fuck around with them, James.”
I nodded. “I promise. I won’t fuck around with them.”
Another voice asked, “Won’t fuck around with who?” It was my mother, standing in my doorway.
I covered the phone with my hand. “Mom, don’t you knock?”
“Is that Greta?” asked Gordon.
“I don’t have to knock. I own the place,” she answered.
“Yes, it is,” I said into the phone. Then I asked my mom, “What are you doing here?”
“They’re on a break.”
“How’s she doing?” asked Gordon.
I was beginning to get a headache.
“Who are you talking to?” Mom asked as she examined one of the chairs in front of my desk. She didn’t look pleased. I don’t know why. She was the one who choose all of the furniture.
“It’s Gordon.”
Her face brightened as she sat down. “And how is he?”
I couldn’t do it anymore. “Gordon, I’ll call you back.” I hung up, not waiting for him to say goodbye.
“James!” exclaimed Mom. “You could have let me say hello. Find out how he is.”
“He’s great. You should call him.” I put my phone on the desk. “What is happening in there?”
She huffed, annoyed at me. “I don’t have time to call Gordon.”
I shook my head. “I’m not a messenger service.”
“Tell him, next time — ”
“What. Is. Happening. In there?”
“You couldn’t tell from your eavesdropping?”
I chewed my lip.
She gave me a rueful smile. “I suspected as such.” She shook her head. “Please don’t do that. That’s incredibly unprofessional. Unethical.” She paused. “And embarrassing.”
“Fine. I won’t do it. Now, can you tell me what’s going on in there?”
Mother crossed her arms. “Patrick is a very good witness. Detailed. The agents seemed very pleased.”
“You don’t.” I pointed out.
She didn’t answer.
“Has he said who stabbed Matty?”
My mother shook her head. “We haven’t gotten there yet.”
“What about the other men, besides Edward? Has he talked about them?”
“James,” she began, “I’m not sure I should tell you.”
I frowned.
“You want to remain involved in the case.”
I didn’t answer.
She tipped her head. “I don’t see why I should help you remain involved. Everything is fine now.”
“Is it?”
“James...”
I leaned forward. “I just can’t sit around and do nothing.”
“There’s plenty of work to be done.” She pointed to the door. “I’m sure Nora has some cases for you.”
“I’m sure she does. But I’m not done with this one.”
There was a gentle knock at the door. Erika was there. “They’re ready for you again.”
Mom pushed herself off her chair. “James, find something new.” She headed out of the office, walking past Erika.
“Great talk, Mom!” I called after her.
Erika observed me from the door.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in there?” I asked.
“What, give you a little inside information?” she said, walking into the room and closing the door behind her.
“You have any?”
She shook her head. “Mom is handling it.”
I sucked my lip, disappointed.
“I want to figure this thing out.” I looked at the ceiling. “Edward Stratton, head of security to actual billionaires, needs money. First, he tries to steal it. Then, he decides that’s not enough, and now he’s going to kidnap and hold their heir for ransom.” I shook my head, not understanding.
“The FBI is at his home, going over everything. I’m sure a motive will come out,” she said, sitting in the very same chair Mom had just vacated.
I looked around the room and started spitballing. “Maybe he had a gambling problem. He liked drugs. Women.”
“Fast cars?” suggested Erika.
“Cute.” I put my elbows on my desk and cradled my face. “This is important. And what’s the connection between him and the other guys?” I thought about it some more. “He wouldn’t use his own guys. Would he? They might be loyal to the job and not him.”
Erika shrugged. “Money has a way of changing people’s loyalty.”
I dismissed it. “The guy I followed — the one with the Lakers jersey — he didn’t strike me as professional security.” I chewed at my lip now. There was something I was forgetting. Then I remembered. “Two months ago.”
“Two months ago?”
“Eva Beverly told me that Edward changed about two months ago.”
Erika nodded. “What happened two months ago?”
I looked at her. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” She paused. “Aren’t you the detective?”
I smirked. “How long do you think they’re going to be in there for?”
Erika looked in the direction of our mother’s office. “Hours, probably. Why?”
I shrugged. “I thought I’d spend some time being a detective while the grown-ups are busy.”