“Yes, well, respecting my ability to survive and wanting me to marry her daughter are two different things.”
“She would have supported us,” I insist.
“And you know this how?”
“Because we say live or die together and mean it. She didn’t have that with my father. I wonder—did she with Murphy?”
His jaw flexes. “You know how I feel about Murphy.”
“You don’t trust him.”
“Never have,” he says. “Never will.”
“He asked for an invite to the wedding.”
“And you said?”
“No. Actually might as well have been hell no.”
He laughs. “And there you go, ladies and gentlemen. Queen Mendez.”
I smile, but I also give him a keen look. “Why are you really here right now? And don’t tell me you had a mad craving for Taco Bell. Or me, for that matter.”
“United we stand, beautiful. Pocher and I are long past due a face-to-face. I’d prefer that not happen at the fundraiser. I’m going with you to see him.”
“You’re going with me to warn him his life is in danger,” I state. “I’m pretty sure he’ll find that suspicious.”
“I’m going with you to remind him of our mutual interests.”
“What mutual interests?”
“Survival. Pocher is Society, but he’s not the head of the dragon. I don’t even know who that is, but it’s not him. If I stir up trouble in his territory, he looks weak and he risks repercussions. We both want to keep the Society in their lane. Sometimes he forgets that means we have to survive in the same territory. And he needs a little reminder.”
“Alrighty then,” I say. “Let’s go see Pocher.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Kane and I load up in an SUV with Kit driving us toward Pocher’s Central Park apartment, while Jay takes Kit’s car back to our place. I don’t ask if we need to call ahead to get a meeting with Pocher. Kane knows Pocher is home or we wouldn’t be headed in his direction. And the minute Pocher hears Kane Mendez is in his building, we’ll have his attention.
We pull to a stoplight and Kit holds up his phone between the seats to indicate a text and then calls out, “Our men that are following Marilyn, they say she took the Boston exit.”
Marilyn thinks she’s meeting Ann. Or maybe she’s just making sure she’s dead.
A thought hits me and I quickly grab my phone and dial Andrew. “We need to get Ann’s parents out of town or well protected,” I say the minute he answers. “Marilyn is headed that way and I can only presume she thinks she’s meeting Ann.”
“Hold on while I make the call and make it happen. I want to talk to you.” He clicks to the other line, while I receive another call from Lucas. I answer with, “Quickly. I’m on the other line.”
“I’ve done the family tree for Marilyn,” he says. “There’s no military, medical, pharmaceutical, or government connections there.”
“It’s there. Look harder. And I need to know if we found a money trail connecting Marilyn to Ann.”
“Several large cash deposits were made into Ann’s account over two months. No withdrawals even close to the amount from Marilyn’s.”
“Which is why we need to find out who made the weapons she’s using to kill people. That’s where we’ll find the money, but for now, and I mean right now, I need to know if Ann’s phone is receiving phone calls. I suspect Marilyn is trying to contact her by way of a disposable phone. Text me. I have to go.”
I click back to Andrew and he’s gone. I move on and dial Marco.
“Special Agent Love. I’m shocked you actually called me.”
I’m not in the mood for quips and jabs or small talk. I get to the point. “Did you get your warrant?
“Yes. We’re headed over to the Clementine now.”
“Find out if Ann or Marilyn are on the hotel feed together, and I don’t mean a casual encounter created by Ann’s job. Something that says they had a relationship. And look for someone with them, a third or even fourth partner.”
“I can already tell you they use an ancient system. It records over the feed every three days.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly,” he concurs. “And the staff is not talking any more than management. Almost as if they were paid off.”
He’s not wrong, I think. “What about records, like call logs? She’s dead. There’s no longer a warrant needed to access her records. Can you see where the Boston PD stands on that?”
“Already did. And they say there’s not much to find but they’re sending their reports to the involved agencies. I’ve got a guy over to her apartment to ask questions. Then he’ll head over to Marilyn’s apartment to dig around.”
“Ann’s place is fine but pull back on Marilyn,” I say. “The idea here is that she keeps doing what she’s doing and we catch her doing it. We’ll never catch her if she knows you’re looking for her. Get surveillance on her building, her phone, her computer, and an undercover detective in her office.”
“I’m never going to be able to authorize any of that,” he says. “We don’t have probable cause for a warrant to search, monitor, seize, etc., and again, we don’t have anything but your gut feelings here to go on. I mean add mine to the mix. I believe you’re right about her. I believe all this crap she’s feeding us is bullshit, but bottom line it with me for a moment We can’t show any action that supports a crime committed by her directly. And without probable cause there is no warrant for searches, surveillance, records, nothing.”
He’s right. We don’t. “I’ll handle it. Just stay, don’t dig around and alert her we’re onto her.”
I disconnect and text Lucas: Go through the cameras at Marilyn’s apartment and work buildings. See if you find Ann on the feed. Or anyone else interesting.
He replies with: There are calls coming into Ann’s phone from the same disposable phone.
In other words, I think, Marilyn doesn’t know Ann is dead. Marilyn didn’t kill her. So either Ann killed herself or someone else did. Marilyn’s partner, whoever that is, is not fully communicating with her. Or Marilyn is ensuring her partner really did kill Ann, as promised. That fits like a glove.
Kane squeezes my leg and I glance up to realize we’re arriving at Pocher’s building. I shoot a quick last text to Lucas: Call Andrew and tell him I’m walking into a meeting with Pocher. And send me photos of the victims and their spouses, and ex-spouse in Emma’s case.
“And here we go,” I say to Kane.
“Yes, beautiful. Here we go.”
Kit pulls us up to the front of Pocher’s building for valet parking. By the time I’m outside in a drizzly cold rain, I have my photos. Wind gusts around me as I step on the sidewalk and Kane joins me, flagging the doorman as he does. “Tell Mr. Pocher that Kane Mendez and Special Agent Lilah Love are here to see him. We’re plus one with a bodyguard. He’ll want to know quite expediently, I’m certain.”