you’re going to have a normal dinner. With vegetables.”
“I have mushrooms and tomato sauce on pizza. Add the meat, bread, and cheese and you’ve got all the food groups.”
“Tomato is a berry, mushrooms are a fungus, and that isn’t cheese, it’s a cheese product. I don’t even know if it can be classified as dairy. You’re going to have a nice dinner, and you’re going to bring your laundry, and you’re going to take a long shower.”
Bug tried to sniff his armpit and jerked his head away. He looked at me. “There will be people there.”
“You know everybody, and everybody likes you. You and Bern are friends. The only new people are Runa and Ragnar, and they’re nice.”
Bug pondered it.
“You can play with my new dog.”
Bug looked at Shadow. Shadow wagged her tail.
“Is it too soon?” Bug asked.
It was clearly a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. Bug’s old French bulldog mix, Napoleon, had died a year ago. Bug had rescued him off the street, and Napoleon enjoyed a spoiled, carefree life until time took its inevitable toll.
Bug dug in the desk drawer and fished out an ancient dog biscuit.
“How old is that thing?”
“It’s a Milk Bone. They’re like Twinkies, they don’t go bad.”
Shadow took the bone from his fingers and hid under the couch.
“I’ll come to dinner,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“What do you need?”
I brought him up to speed on Diatheke, Benedict, and the missing two million dollars.
“I need you to go back to Sunday on CCTV and see if you can spot Sigourney leaving Diatheke. Assuming Diatheke didn’t send a hit squad after her to steal the money back, I want to know what she did with it.”
Bug’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “What kind of name is Diatheke anyway?”
“It’s ancient Greek. According to biblical scholars it means a contract, specifically the last disposition of all earthly possessions after death, or a covenant.”
“So like a will?”
“Kind of. It can also mean a business agreement between two parties.”
“Umm. Their name means make your final arrangements, and Sigourney was a poison Prime, and she worked for them . . .”
I raised my hand. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it too, but I have no proof and I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.”
Bug shrugged and turned to his screens. I went to the kitchen, pulled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, and attacked the mess on the island.
It took me twenty minutes to bring the kitchen to a state of cleanliness that didn’t send shivers of horror down my spine. I took out three bags of trash and filled the recycling bin halfway. How someone could exist on pizza and Mello Yello alone, I would never know. Once I cleaned up, I settled on the couch with my phone and Shadow.
“Got her,” Bug said finally.
I walked over to stand by him. On the central screen, Sigourney Etterson stood frozen in the process of walking into Diatheke, Ltd. The image was slightly out of focus, but I’d know that red hair anywhere. Judging by the angle, the footage was recorded from across the street.
“Apartment building?”
“Yeah. It’s under construction and the construction crews always have good surveillance. Helps to cut down on material theft. 10:00 a.m. on the dot.” Bug pressed a key and the grainy picture sped up. “She walks in and seventeen minutes later, she’s out.”
On the screen Sigourney emerged into the street, pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her.
“What’s in the bag?!” Bug screamed dramatically.
“Probably the money.”
“I was quoting a movie.”
“You were misquoting a movie.” The movie referenced a box.
“Whatever.”
Sigourney walked to the parking lot and loaded the suitcase into a blue BMW SUV. She climbed into the driver’s seat and drove offscreen.
The eight monitors around the central screen ignited, showing the images of Sigourney’s SUV from various angles and cameras.
“X6 M,” Bug said. “A hundred K, before modifications. Clearly, whatever she did for them paid well.”
“Where is she going?”
“You’ll see.”
The video sped up, changing on the screens as different cameras tracked the SUV through the streets. Finally, it came to a stop before a metal gate. Beyond the gate stretched a long rectangular building with bright yellow doors.
“CubeSmart Self Storage,” Bug said. “They’re all over Houston.”
The view switched, showing a shot of Sigourney’s vehicle from the driver’s side. She rolled down the window, punched a code into the box by the gate, the gate swung open, and she drove in.
“She rented the unit in advance,” I thought out loud.