The detective nodded. “Most of them won’t turn on their man for anything.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it either. And this chick, the heiress, she’s young and damned good-looking.”
“Maybe after Winston, she needed a real man,” Dr. Ronny Tiptree ventured. He was a medical examiner and best friends with Mills. “He’s got a foul temper.”
“Who brought him in?” Sullivan asked.
Monroe pushed chips into the middle of the table. “Cooper Knight. He’s delivered two big scores for us. I’m not putting this on him.”
“Still, maybe we should serve him notice so that he works all the harder for us,” the assistant police chief said. He tossed his chips into the middle of the table, indicating he was in. “We started this with one widower, and we should have stuck with five. Let’s pull back in and wait this out.”
Monroe tossed back his drink. “Over cards. Funny how playing cards can always have you coming up with the best ideas, Harbin.”
Harbin raised his glass toward Monroe. “Here’s to all of us. We get rid of Winston and leave the little biker bitch alone for a while. Tell the others to lie low and then when we know we’re in the clear, we can resume business as usual.”
“What did the honorable Judge James have going tonight that was so important?” Detective Sullivan asked. “He rarely misses poker night.”
Monroe winked at him. “Mistress Scarlett had to cancel her last two visits, and this was her only night open for him.”
“He told you that?” Sullivan raised his eyebrow.
Monroe shook his head and indicated Harbin. “He did.”
“Got her phone bugged,” the assistant police chief said. “I like to know who in our little community likes to use her services.”
They all burst out laughing.
“My wife wants to head to Paris in the next couple of months,” Mills said. “If she hasn’t already been talking to your wife, Ronny, she will be.”
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing nothing else for the last week. Was going to warn you.”
“Your wives spend more money than half the old biddies in San Francisco,” Monroe accused.
“True, but they put on the best fund-raisers and attract the richest widows as well,” Tiptree pointed out. “I’m out, gentlemen.” He tossed his cards facedown on the table. “Without the two of them, we would have a much more difficult time finding out about our marks. They’re better at gathering information than detectives, present company excluded.”
Sullivan raised his glass to Tiptree.
* * *
Czar looked around at the team spread out in front of him. “There you have it. Our great minds. Whiskey and cards, they plan to kill innocent women for their money. Nice. Really nice. And they think bikers are scum.”
“Do you think the wives know?” Reaper asked. “I couldn’t tell from their conversation.”
Czar thought it over and then shook his head. “That doesn’t feel right to me. I doubt if the others would trust them to that extent. I think the poker friends thought the scheme up and that it started with one, they got away with it and then they got greedy.”
“We have to be certain we got the head of the snake,” Ice said. “I don’t want any of them coming after Soleil.”
“And nothing can tie back to her,” Storm added.
“The cops might look at her because her name’s been in the news tied to Winston, but there isn’t a tie at all to any of the others. The file we left in the highway patrol car didn’t have any reference to this scheme. Bailey liked to blackmail people. The others didn’t know about his side business. Code found his money and the damning entries in his computer. That will explain his death. It will appear that someone got very tired of being blackmailed.”
“Are you certain blowing all of them up is a good idea, Czar?” Transporter asked from under the Mercedes Dr. Mills drove.
“We were very fortunate in that Winston was in the military and handled explosives for four years,” Czar said. “It’s a fitting way for them to go, and when the cops find Winston, he’ll have the evidence of all these bombs in his apartment. We used his credit card to buy the materials as well.”
“Nice,” Mechanic said. He pushed down the hood of the matching Mercedes Tiptree owned.
Ice glanced at his watch. “They’ll be out in about eight more minutes.”
“Harbin Conner will be up in his room, like every Friday night. It will take him about four minutes before he turns on his television set. The explosives are set to go off near simultaneously,” Transporter said and rolled out from under the Mercedes. He grinned at Mechanic. “Nothing fancy. We didn’t want anyone to think this took brains.”
The men gathered tools, making certain to leave nothing behind. All four cars gleamed under the parking garage’s lights. Code had dealt with the cameras, but it didn’t matter, they stayed to the shadows. The entire team slipped back into the night and waited.
The four poker players came out together, laughing and exchanging quick good-byes. Dr. Mills and Dr. Tiptree slid behind the wheel of their respective Mercedeses. Monroe broke off to climb into his sporty Aston Martin. Detective Danny Sullivan preferred his SUV. He couldn’t look as if he had a shit-pile of money, and the SUV was good for off-roading.
Waving, they started out of the parking garage. Once on the street, Sullivan turned to the left while the other three turned right. A window blew out in one of the condos above the garage, a wall of flames shooting out. Monroe slammed on his brakes and looked up as a body on fire followed after shattered glass and dropped like stone toward the street. Behind him, Tiptree’s Mercedes exploded, and immediately, Mills’s vehicle in front of him did the same. In the distance, he could hear another explosion and he sat still, his heart slamming loudly, waiting. Two heartbeats later it came. The blast rocked the car, blowing up from under him, driving him right through the roof, smashing every bone in his body.
Czar didn’t leave anything to chance. They waited, now across the street on the rooftop, watching to make certain every one of those involved in the planning of killing socialites for their money was dead. When the last body was accounted for, Ice and Storm looked at each other with satisfaction.
“Alena’s got Overfield at the bar. She’s looking pretty hot as a redhead. She’s all spiked out, rock-and-roll style. He can’t stop looking at her legs. Savage and Absinthe are covering her,” Czar said. “Let’s get moving. We still have all the players to get to before anyone, especially Winston, gets wind that his entire ring is gone.”