Michael Connelly - Void Moon

He went back to the service counter and saw the clerk was now taping shut the box on the floor. Again he did not look up. This time he didn't even ask what was wanted. Karch could see the name tag pinned to his shirt said STEPHEN.

"Excuse me, Steve, do you mind putting this into the proper box for me?"

The young man sullenly put down the tape and walked over to the counter. He took the proffered envelope and looked at it as though there was some question as to whether he could accomplish the request.

"I need it to go in there now because this guy always checks his box first thing in the morning."

The kid finally decided he could handle the assignment and headed behind a partition that apparently led to the mail room.

"And it's Stephen," he called back out to Karch.

Karch stepped away from the counter and went around the corner and down to box 520. He watched through the little glass window as the envelope he had just given the clerk was shoved into the box on top of the other piece of mail waiting for Leo Renfro.

Karch had left the shop before the clerk made his return to the counter. As he walked to his car, he said out loud, "That'll be fifty-two cents… and it's Stephen."

Once inside the Lincoln he said it again and again, working on the pitch and getting an approximation of the right sullen tone and whine into it. When he had it down close enough he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

To make the call he couldn't use an open pay phone with background traffic noise. He drove around Burbank for ten minutes looking for the proper venue. He finally spotted a restaurant called Bob's Big Boy and parked in the rear lot, backing into a slot next to a Dumpster.

Inside the restaurant he found a pay phone in the alcove leading to the rest rooms. He dropped in coins and called Leo Renfro's cell number. He realized the chance he was taking. Renfro's mailbox was a blind drop. Though it obviously was in his name, there was no way for Karch to know whether the operators of the shop would have Renfro's cell phone number. But his plan had a built-in contingency for that.

The phone at the other end of the line was picked up after two rings but no one said anything.

"Hello?" Karch finally said, his voice the best approximation of a high whine.

"Who's this?"

"Mr. Renfro? This is Stephen at Warner Post and Pack It."

"How'd you get this number?"

"It's on the envelope."

"What envelope?"

Karch concentrated on his voice.

"That's what I am calling about. You got an envelope today. It's marked urgent and says do not delay. Your phone number is on it. I don't know, I thought I'd call you. We're closing up and since you didn't come in, I thought I should call you in case, you know, you were expecting some – "

"Is there a return address?"

"Yeah – I mean, no. All it says there is seven-seven-three."

"Okay. Thank you. But do me a favor, don't ever call here again."

Renfro abruptly hung up. Karch kept the phone to his ear as if giving Renfro the chance to get back on and ask more questions. Finally, he hung up. He thought it had worked. He felt confident. His impression of Renfro from the conversation was that he was a cagey guy. That meant it could be a long night ahead.

Back in the restaurant he went to the counter and ordered two hamburgers well done with ketchup on the side and two black coffees to go. While the order was being prepared he walked out to the parking lot. He got the stolen license plates out of his car and replaced the rear tag of his car with one. The Dumpster provided cover while he worked. He then got in the car, pulled out of the parking slot and pulled right back in forward.

He changed the front plate. Cassie Black's drill made the job a breeze. He decided he was going to keep the drill when the job was finished. The drill and a few other things.

ONE more dread added to an already dreadful day. Cassie sat in the Boxster, the engine idling, at the curb across the street from the house on Lookout Mountain Road. The family had left the curtain behind the big picture window open. She could see in through the living room to the lighted kitchen where the three of them sat at the table eating. She couldn't see it from this angle but Cassie remembered from the open house that the chair where the girl now sat had a phone book on it. She probably thought of herself as too old for a booster chair, yet she needed the extra inches.

She looked away from the window to the sign. A short strip of painted wood had been hooked to the bottom of the realty sign below the name of the Realtor.

IN ESCROW

Cassie had never bought a house before but knew that the new sign meant an offer had been accepted. The place was being sold and the family would move soon. She gripped the wheel tightly. It made her elbow and shoulder throb. She thought about Leo's plan to give the money back. She knew there might not be time for another job – and no job would have the kind of money that had been in that briefcase. She found herself hoping Leo would fail in his efforts. She couldn't help it. She wanted the money now. She wanted to run.

Her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her backpack and answered. It was Leo but he didn't say his name. The connection was horrible. She was surprised he had gotten through to her in the hills at all.

"How you feeling?" he asked.

"The same."

"Well, you know those… you were waiting on? I just got a call. It looks like… and I'll pick them up tonight."

She heard enough to be able to fill in the blanks.

"Good. But they won't do me any good if I don't have the money."

"… ill working on that. I'm reaching… Maybe tomorrow I'll know something. One way or anoth – "

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"I didn't get that."

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" she asked loudly, as if the force of her voice could improve the fragile connection.

"We talked about this, Cass. You go to wor… your thing. Everything normal until we get this figured…"

"Whatever. This connection sucks. I want to go."

She sounded sullen and she didn't care.

"Look, sweetheart, we're almost there. I'm just waiting on – "

"I don't want to give it back, Leo. We're making a mistake. You are making a mistake. I have a really bad feeling about this. We need to go. Just go. Now!"

Leo was silent for a long time. He didn't even bother reminding her not to say his name. She was thinking that she had lost the connection when he finally spoke.

"Cassie, look," he said in an overly calm voice. "I'm getting… ibes, too. More than I usually get. But we have to… and cover all the bases. It's the only way to be…"

Cassie shook her head and glanced over at the realty sign once more.

"Sure, Leo. Whatever you say. Just be sure to call me and let me know when you figure out what to do with my life."

She flipped the phone closed and turned it off in case Leo tried to call back. As she did it she had a sudden idea of creeping into Leo's house while he slept and getting to the money. She would take only her share, leaving the rest for Leo to do whatever he wanted with. As angry as she was with Leo, the idea filled her with guilt. She pushed the thought aside and looked back at the house.

She saw the husband standing up at the table and looking through the length of the house and out to the street. At her. She saw him put his napkin down and start coming around the table. He was going to come out to her, to see what she was doing in front of his house. She quickly dropped the Boxster into gear and drove off.

"SUMMER Wind" was the song. It always got to Karch. Every time it came up on the Sinatra's Greatest Hits CD he had to hit replay and hear it again. They were all good but none could touch "Summer Wind." It was the class of the class. Just like Sinatra.