Found Money - James Grippando [56]
“You were saying?” said the detective.
Gram hesitated. “I was saying, uh, just look at the place. Something’s bound to be missing.”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “You let me know. You got my card.” He raised an eyebrow, then walked away.
Gram pulled Amy aside, speaking softly as they walked alone down the hallway, away from the crime scene. “You obviously didn’t tell him about the stolen money.”
“Not yet. I was about to, but I froze up.”
“He is a jerk.”
“It’s more than that. For all the reasons I thought we should have told the police at the very beginning, I was afraid it might get us into even more trouble to admit we’ve been hanging on to it, essentially hiding it from the IRS and everybody else. I felt like I needed some advice first. Some professional advice.”
“From who?”
“There’s only one lawyer I would trust with something like this. That’s Marilyn Gaslow.”
“You sure you want someone in the law firm to know about this?”
She stopped and looked Gram in the eye. “It’s not just someone. It’s Marilyn.”
From a comfortable hotel suite, she watched as Panama City came alive at nightfall. Steam from a hot shower still hovered in the room. A bath towel wrapped her shapely young body. Her wet hair was wrapped in a smaller towel, turban style. A long black wig lay atop the dresser. Ryan Duffy’s leather bag lay open on the bed. She reclined on the pillow beside it as she spoke into the telephone. Her voice had more of an edge than the soft, coy bar talk she had used with Ryan.
“I got his bag. For a hundred bucks the bartender ran a little diversion scam with me.”
“I told you not to involve anyone else.”
“He’s not involved. I’m sure he’s played this same game with half the hookers in Panama City. He just grabbed the bag when Duffy had his mind on other things, so to speak.”
“What’s in it?”
“Bank records, some other papers. Nothing you didn’t already tell me about.” She braced the phone with her neck and shoulder, then zipped the bag closed.
“Did you talk to Duffy?”
“Yeah. But he didn’t bite. Never went beyond some brief bar banter.”
“You losing your edge or something?”
She checked herself in the mirror, then answered in an affected, throaty voice. “What do you think?”
“Guy must be a homo.”
She laughed lightly. “So, what happened in Boulder?”
“I think I got the point across.”
“What does that mean?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Come on. I hate working in the dark.”
“Really? And all this time I thought you were leaving the light on for my benefit.”
“Cute. But a crack like that’s going to cost you, asshole. When you are least prepared to pay. Unless you make amends.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Tell me what happened in Boulder.”
“You’re being too nosy for your own good.”
“Maybe. But if I’m going to do my part of the job right, I need to see the big picture.”
“All right, all right. Your instincts were dead on. That happy hour with Amy Parkens you observed at the Green Parrot back in Denver evidently wasn’t just a casual meeting between friends. I found two hundred grand in her apartment. Cash.”
“Whoa. I guess Saint Amy has broken her vow of poverty.”
He asked, “Are you sure you didn’t see Duffy give her anything at that restaurant?”
“I’m sure. I tailed him the whole day, just like you told me. Never took my eyes off him.”
“Somebody must have given it to her before the old man died. I don’t see where the hell else she could have gotten that kind of cash.”
“So, what does all this mean? You want me to keep tailing him?”
“Definitely. But from here on out, you need to be extra careful. With me hitting Parkens and you hitting Duffy at the exact same time, I’m sure we took them both by surprise. But they’re on guard now. I want you to act under the assumption that the two families are sharing both wealth and information.”
“And risk,” she said coolly.
“That too.”
She rose and stepped to the window. The busy streets below were an endless string of lights.
“What do you want me to do next?”
“Just stay there until Duffy leaves, keep an eye on him. And keep that buffoon out of trouble. I want to deal with