Michael Connelly - Void Moon

Cassie looked inside. The bricks of hundred-dollar bills were there. Still wrapped in plastic and as dry as the day they were cut at the mint.

She closed the bag and looked across the pool at the broken sliding door. From this angle she could see the tops of Leo's shoes pointing upward. She silently said her thanks to him. He had said to her when he told where the money would be kept that the best hiding place was one in plain sight. He had been right.

Cassie looked down at the water. Her struggling with the vacuum had created a small current. Floating by her on the surface was a dead hummingbird, its tiny wings spread like an angel's.

KARCH slowly stood up when ordered to by the woman with the gun.

"Who the hell are you?"

He nodded, hoping it would be a gesture taken as a sign of his full cooperation and compliance.

"My name is Jack Karch. I'm a private investigator. My license is in the inside right pocket of my jacket. May I get it out and show it to you?"

"Maybe later. A PI? What do you want with Cassie Black? And take two steps backward and lean against the wall."

She was slowly coming further into the room. He did as he was told and leaned his shoulders against the wall as he spoke. He saw her eyeing the Sig, which was still on the bed.

"I'm on a case. A hot prowl in Vegas. A hotel room. A high roller was taken off for a lot of money. If you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

The woman was at the bottom of the bed. Keeping her eyes and the aim of her Beretta on Karch, she bent forward and reached her free hand for the gun.

"Agent Thelma Kibble, state parole."

"Oh, yeah, Kibble. I was going to try to reach you today to talk about Black."

"Since when does Nevada allow its PIs to run around with silencer-equipped weapons?"

Karch did his best to look surprised.

"Oh, you mean that? That's not mine. I found that in the drawer there. That's Cassie Black's. And you might be careful how you handle it. I think it's evidence."

"Of what? You said it was a hot prowl."

"They found the body of her old partner, a man named Jersey Paltz, in the desert. He was shot."

Kibble looked down at the weapon in her left hand. Karch was about six feet away from her. He decided it was too risky to make a move from that distance.

"Tell you what, Mr. Karch, why don't you very slowly open up your jacket for me?"

"Sure."

Karch slowly opened his jacket, exposing the empty shoulder holster.

"I know what you're going to say," he said quickly. " 'Empty holster, the Sig must be his.' Not true. I have a license to carry a concealed weapon. But it's a Nevada state license. No good in California. If I had a weapon in this holster I would be breaking the law. My weapon is locked in its case in the trunk of my car. If you want to walk out with me I will show it to you."

"I'm not worried about that. What I'm wondering is why you are here and not the Vegas cops. If there's a murder, why aren't the authorities involved? Why aren't they here?"

"Well, first of all they are involved. But, as you must know, the police are hampered by bureaucracy. I was hired by the Cleopatra Resort and Casino to investigate the room burglary. I have a staff and an expense account. I move faster. The police will be coming here and be in contact with you soon. In fact, I am working very closely with the Metro police. If you wish, I can give you the name and number of a detective who will vouch for me."

If she bit, he would give her Iverson's number. He could ad lib it. Karch would have to work something out with Iverson later with either a payoff or a bullet. But Kibble didn't bite.

"Even if someone vouched for you it wouldn't explain why you took it upon yourself to break into a suspect's home," she said.

"I did not break in," Karch said indignantly. "The front door was wide open. Look, that's my car parked outside in the driveway. Would I park there if I was breaking in?"

"You seem to have an answer for everything, Mr. Karch."

"As long as they are true. Could you please stop pointing that gun at me now? I think I have sufficiently established who I am and what I'm doing here. Do you want to see my license now?"

Kibble hesitated but then lowered her gun to her side. Karch dropped his hands to his side without her protesting. He had hoped she would actually put the weapon away but nonetheless was pleased by what he saw. He decided to stay on the offensive.

"Now, can I ask you what you are doing here?"

Kibble hiked her sizable shoulders.

"I'm doing my job, Mr. Karch. Just a routine home call. Checking up on one of my cases."

"Seems a little too coincidental to me."

"I had a conversation with her a couple weeks ago that didn't sit well with me. I put her on my list of field checks. Didn't get to it until today."

"And you came here instead of visiting the dealership?"

"I called the dealership. She had a message on her line saying she wasn't in today. So I came here. Don't ask me any more questions, Mr. Karch. I'm asking you the questions."

"Fine."

He waved his hands in surrender.

"You said there's a homicide in this? Well, I know Cassie Black probably better than anybody around here and I'll tell you right now there's no way she's involved in a homicide. No way."

Karch thought of Hidalgo's body lying on the bed in the Cleo's penthouse.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that, Agent Kibble. The evidence speaks for itself. And after all, remember, we're talking about an ex-con here, one who served time in Nevada on a murder conviction."

"It was a manslaughter and we both know the circumstances. The law held her responsible for her partner's death but she was twenty stories below when he went out the window. Somebody may have pushed him, but it wasn't her."

"Is that what she said? That somebody pushed him?"

"It's the way she had it figured. She said the casinos had to make an example of him. He got pushed."

"That's bullshit, but never mind. How did she get out here?"

"She had her parole transferred. Once she got the job lined up with Ray Morales at the dealership it was a cinch. She had a lawyer petition and the parole transfer was approved. She knew Ray from Vegas when she was a dealer. Ray's an ex-con who made it in the straight life. He wanted to give her a shot at it. He probably also wanted something else but Cassie never complained."

Karch had thought Morales was an ex-con. When he'd put him down on the floor of the finance office Morales had taken it with a certain dignity you never saw in citizens. The woman was like the rest of them. She started to whimper and was going to shout so he'd had to shoot her first.

"So did you get close to her?" Karch asked. "Close enough to know what made her blood move?"

"You mean why she started ripping off high rollers in Vegas?"

Karch nodded.

"You ask me, I think it had something to do with her father. A degenerate gambler. I think she thought she was getting back at the casinos or something. I don't know."

"I don't think you do. You mind if I sit down? I've got a bad back."

He brought his arms up behind his back as if stretching the muscles. He kept talking the whole time.

"I'm on a pension from Vegas Metro. Partial disability. Wrecked my back chasing down a guy dusted on meth. He picked me up and threw me down a flight of stairs…"

None of it was true. It was all part of the sleight of hand. As he talked his left hand went under his jacket and picked the. 25 out of the silk pocket inside his rear belt line.

"I have never seen that kind of power in a single human being…"

He brought his hands forward and clasped them together in an ad-libbed stretching motion during which he transferred the gun to his right hand. He then held it palmed at his side as he groaned and sat down on the bed. Kibble was now about four feet away and still holding her weapon at her side. She held the Sig by the barrel in her other hand and also at her side. Karch knew he had her. But he wanted to get more information from her first.