14 - J. T. Ellison [81]
“Let me get this straight. Mars used to be your dad’s accountant. He’s moved to New York and gotten involved with the Mafia, specifically Edward Delglisi. He was planted in a rival organization and ultimately testified against Horace Macon, effectively ending the Tartulo crime syndicate. Edward Delglisi steps into Tartulo’s place and becomes a very powerful crime boss.”
“That’s the nutshell version, yes.”
“What kind of hold does Delglisi have on Mars?”
“Good question. And the other question is does Mars know Snow White? Martin Kimball said Snow White’s note came from Mars’s printer.”
Baldwin fingered the notes. “I’d like to know the answer to that.”
“Me, too. There’s more. It’s unbelievable all the information Frank discovered. Mars’s business is a real estate investment trust, right? The REIT manages to reduce the taxes that the individual corporations have to pay on these properties, lets them buy under the corporate name, and their holdings are vast. Frank dug up some of the property listings in the REIT. They own everything from apartment building to houses to corporate strip malls. And guess where they have material assets and properties?”
“Nashville.”
“Give that man a prize. To be even more specific, that place where the Snow White copycat hit yesterday afternoon? One of fifteen small, low-income houses that are listed on the rolls. If we were to raid all those properties, I’ll bet you fifty bucks that more than one operates as a massage parlor.
“This is definitely why Frank Richardson was killed, Baldwin. I don’t think this is directly related to the Snow White murders. I think he uncovered the sideline for Burt Mars’s little company. Oh, why didn’t he just call me? I could have taken care of him.”
“You have all the addresses of the properties they hold in the REIT?”
“It’s right here.” She waved a sheath of papers at him. “I think we need to find Burt Mars.”
The phone rang in the kitchen. They both looked at their watches. It was past midnight, late for a call that didn’t mean someone was dead. Taylor got up and went to the handset, saw the number was Lincoln’s cell phone. She answered it, voice grave.
Lincoln was nearly jovial. “Great, you’re up. I have some good news for you. Want to hear it?”
“You know I do. You found Jane Macias alive and kicking?”
“Okay, not quite that good. Ballistics came back on the bullets that were used in the hospital shooting. Octagonal polygonal rifling characteristics, fragments of what looks like a .41 caliber bullet. Forensics says the gun was a Desert Eagle Jericho.”
“A Jericho, not the Baby Eagle? They’re kind of rare around these parts.”
“Yeah. Only made them for a year before they were replaced by the Baby. Here’s the good news. Frank Richardson was definitely killed with the same gun.”
Her gut was right. The tension came flooding back. “Someone was trying to shut him up.”
“Looks that way.”
“I think I may know who’s responsible, peripherally at least.”
“Who?”
“Burt Mars.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t he the accountant whose printer was used in the original Snow White case?”
“Good memory. Yep, he’s the one.” She ran through the information with him, then got off the phone, turned back to Baldwin.
“I cry uncle. This is going to take more work than you or I can handle tonight. I think it’s time to pack it in.”
She went to the couch and sat, patting the seat next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He obliged, took her hand in his, fiddled with her engagement ring.
“I love this stone,” he said, smiling.
“I love it, too. And I can’t wait to add that band of platinum to it tomorrow. But I don’t know how much more I can take, Baldwin. I feel like I’m abandoning everyone, right in the middle of the biggest case we’ve had in years. How can I do that?”
She stood abruptly, unable to sit still. She paced the living room, watching Baldwin watch her steps.