in his voice. It was a small note but it was there. It was a tone Karch had never heard coming from Vincent Grimaldi in the many years they had known each other.
"I have to get the money back, Jack. The GCIU report goes to the printer on Tuesday. After that it's too late to change. I have to get the money back and make the payment or the sale goes down the toilet. That happens and Miami will be sending people out."
He used his chin again to point, this time out toward the desert.
"That's where they'll take me. Out with the rest of them who didn't go the distance in this town. Breathing sand."
Grimaldi shook his head once, a quick, tight back-and-forth.
"I'm sixty-three years old, Jack. Forty-five fucking years in this town and that's what I'll get."
Karch let a delicious ten seconds slide by before responding.
"We can't let that happen, Vincent. We won't."
Grimaldi nodded and his mouth turned up into a humorless smile.
"Good old Jack of Spades. I knew I could count on you."
20
KARCH began with the body, studying its position and the pattern of blood spatter on the headboard and wall. The fat man had obviously been sitting upright on the bed when he took the bullet. The shooter had been standing at the foot of the bed.
"A lefty," he said.
"What?" Grimaldi asked.
"The shooter. He was left-handed. Most likely."
He stood in the position the shooter would have stood and extended his left arm. He nodded. It was likely that if Hidalgo had been hit in the right eye by a bullet from a gun held by someone facing him, then that person held the gun in his or her left hand.
His eyes traveled up from the body to the headboard and wall. Back at the office he had a couple of books on blood spatter – how to read the meanings of elliptical versus circular blood drops and so on. But he had never gotten past the introductory chapters because the stuff was so deadly boring and rarely usable in his line of work. What was to be read of significance from this tableau? Not much. The guy was alive and then he was dead. That was all.
"Anybody report a shot?" he asked.
"No," Grimaldi said. "But I wanted him isolated. So none of the rooms on either side or across were occupied. Also, I don't know if it connects up but there was a fire alarm on this floor last night."
Karch looked at him.
"About eleven," Grimaldi said. "Somebody left a cigarette on a room service cart and parked it in the service alcove, right below a smoke detector."
Karch nodded at the dead man.
"Was he evacuated? Did he leave his room?"
"Not that we know of. I have somebody pulling together the tapes so we can look at everything."
Karch nodded but was unsure how the fire alarm could have played into things. He looked at the body again.
"I think what you have here is a half-assed attempt to make this look like a suicide. But – "
"This was no suicide. This was a fucking rip-off. "
"I know, Vincent, I know. Listen to me. I said an attempt to make it look that way. A lousy attempt at that. Just listen to me before you start going off."
He decided to discontinue his running commentary. He'd let Grimaldi figure out things for himself. What bothered him most about the scene was the handcuffs. He didn't understand why they weren't removed.
"Vincent, I take it you searched this place top and bottom for the money?"
"Yes, it's gone. The case, too."
"What about his keys?"
"Keys?"
"Keys." He pointed to the dead man's wrist with the two cuffs on it. "The key to the cuffs, where is it?"
"I don't know, Jack. I didn't see any keys. Whoever took the money, took the keys, I guess. But they'll get a surprise."
"What surprise?"
"The key to the briefcase won't be on there. Fat boy here didn't have it. Mr. Bla – uh, his boss didn't want him opening it, maybe going down to the tables with a piece of the cash. So he sent the key to me and I would open the case at the drop meeting this morning. I have the key but no fucking briefcase to open. The case has electronic protection – like a stun gun. Somebody tries to open it without the key, they'll get knocked on their ass good. Ninety thousand volts."
Karch nodded and took a small notebook and pen from his pocket. He jotted