MONA woke at 6:00 A.M. as usual. She remembered the phone call. Finn was still asleep. It was Saturday morning. Usually on Saturdays, she went to Pilates down by the beach. This morning, she decided to stay in bed, curled up against her husband.
Finn woke an hour later. “This is a nice surprise,” he said.
Mona kissed his forehead. She didn’t bring up the phone call, and neither did he.
“I start my shift at nine,” he said. He got up and went to shower. Mona went to the kitchen and made coffee. When she came back to the bedroom, she found Finn sitting on the floor next to the closet, peering into the chamber of the handgun he’d bought for her.
“I don’t want it, Nick.”
“Just checking it hasn’t jammed up.”
Finn put the gun away in the safe, hugged his wife, and left for work. Mona stood in the doorway and watched him walk to his truck. She scanned the cars parked on the street. Then she closed the door. Normally, when she was home, she simply pressed the button on the door handle. This time, she used her key to double-lock it.
Mona sat down on the sofa and called Littlemore on his cell.
“You’re becoming a pest,” he said, but not in a way that indicated he minded.
“Listen. Someone threatened me last night.”
Littlemore dropped the jocular tone. “Who?”
Mona told him about the phone call.
“All right. I’ll put a wiretap on your phone. If he calls again, we’ll locate him.”
Mona had never imagined the day would come when she would want her phone to be tapped.
“I’m making this case my priority, Mona. I’ll put my best people on it,” continued Littlemore. “Listen. If you want, I can get you some protection from the Marshals’ Service. A couple of guys. I can do that. All right?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.”
“At least until the trial is over.”
“Really, no.”
“All right, well. If you change your mind, just call, okay?” He sounded disappointed.
“Okay. Have you found who’s behind Loyola Holdings yet?”
“I’ve got nothing. What’s your best guess?”
Mona hesitated a second. “Michael Marvin,” she said.
“I thought that, too. But it doesn’t hold.”
“Why not?”
“Five point eight million dollars goes from the BSCA to AmeriCo to Loyola. Why? It would mean Marvin is effectively paying himself. Why would he do that? Also, 5.8 million is a lot of money to you or me, but it’s peanuts to Michael Marvin. I checked up on it; the guy is loaded. The BSCA gave him a stock option deal. Their stock price has quadrupled since he took over. He’s worth at least a hundred million. There’s no upside for him to risk a racketeering charge for what for him is chump change.”
“Find out what the money’s for. Then everything will fall into place.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize. You know, if you ever want a job, say the word. You’d make a great investigator. But for now, please, stay out of it, okay? And stay safe.”
“Okay. I will. Thanks.”
“One more thing,” said Littlemore.
“What?”
“Do you own a gun?”