a long one today, but figure before we lock you up, get on home, we should let you know how things stand. The blonde? She rolled hard on you, Frank. And you were the one who had a gun in his possession. Then you got the blackmail.”
“There wasn’t any blackmail! That was bogus.”
“Frank, if you keep saying stuff, we’re going to have to put you back in your cell without giving you the information to help you decide how to handle things when your lawyer gets here tomorrow.”
“Screw a lawyer. There wasn’t any damn blackmail. I’m not going down for fucking blackmail.”
“Look, if you’ve got something you want to say, something you want to tell us, you need to waive your right to an attorney. Otherwise—”
“Didn’t I say ‘screw a lawyer’?” His eyes darted back and forth between them, shooting out genuine fear. “I waive that shit then. Blackmail, my ass.”
“Okay, the record shows you’re waiving your right to an attorney and want to talk. You showed Ms. Dupont and Mr. Sparks photographs you’d taken of them in some very compromising positions.”
“That’s right, that’s right. With Sparks’s camera, for Christ’s sake. Do you think I could afford one of those long lenses? Do you think I could’ve gotten inside the walls of that big-ass estate without him setting it up?”
Michaela didn’t miss a beat, just cast her eyes to the ceiling. “Jesus, he expects us to believe Sparks set all this up? We’re wasting our time on this one, Sheriff.”
“He did! It’s what he does, it’s his game. He hits up rich women. He hits them up for loans, big-ticket gifts, cash, whatever. He’ll honeypot them for more if he figures he can squeeze them.”
“And you know this how?” Red asked.
“Maybe we ran a few together. It’s not the first time he’s tapped me for a game.”
“Now they’ve worked together.” Michaela kicked back, yawned. “Sparks makes good money as a PT for wealthy clients. Why would he risk that to hook up with a second-rate grifter like you?”
“Look, bitch—”
“Now, now,” Red said mildly. “Language.”
“He’s got the style, okay? That’s his gig. Sex, style, finding women who want some of both. Sometimes he wants somebody to hit the mark with photos. That’s me. You squeeze a few thousand, and you move on.”
“A few thousand? You were hitting for ten million.”
“Ten—” Everything about Denby went dark, went ugly. “That son of a bitch. He said two. We’d split two. Biggest take ever. He had the woman wrapped. He saw how it was. The kid wasn’t a big deal to her—but the kid was a really big deal with the father. And the father, he had the money. A hell of a lot of money. The fucking Hollywood Sullivans, right?”
He patted his chest. “Can I get a smoke?”
“No.” Red just smiled. “Keep going.”
“He says we’ll go for the big one, the kind you retire on. I’m not kidnapping some kid, that’s what I say. I mean whoa. But he’s, like, he can get the blonde to set it up. If she balks, we walk. But if she bites, we’re in.
“She bit.” He leaned forward. “It’s, like, I hit Sparks first, and he has to go to her, tell her. We meet up—she wears a wig, for Christ’s sake, big sunglasses. Like anybody gives a rat’s ass. I show the shots, she gets hysterical—‘What’ll it take? You can’t sell these. My career, the press!’ So I get how Sparks had it right. It’s all about her, and that makes it easy. I say, like me and Sparks set up, how I’ll let her know what it’ll take, and it won’t come cheap.”
“You didn’t directly demand the ten million?”
“No. Man, he said it was for two, so I say how I want two. They played me,” he muttered, bitter. “Played me for a mark, went for ten. I figured she could get two, sell some shit or whatever, but he comes to me, says she can’t get it, and how he talked her into using the kid. How she jumped on it.”
He squirmed in his chair. “Look, if I can’t get a smoke, can I get a Mountain Dew or some shit?”
“Finish it out, and we’ll fix you up.”
“Jesus, don’t you see? He set me up. They fucking set me up. I’m not going down for all this. They worked out how to get the kid. He said she had the perfect time and place because they were having the party deal for the old