The Granite Moth (28 page)

“Just paying my respects.”

No one answered the Belascos' apartment 15, so I tried the neighbor at 16. When a voice crackled “hello,” I identified myself as the police, raising an eyebrow at my old colleague who said “Shit” again, then trailed me inside. Sammy wasn't the only one bored that morning, because Mrs. 16 wasn't hiding behind her security chain on this visit. She was standing in the hallway, ready to share her theories on where the Belascos might have gone, but I cut her off.

“Gone?” I asked.

“Yeah, they cleared out. The walls are thin, so I know they're not home. Haven't been since last night. Not a single toilet flush. The front door never opened, so I figure the aliens came for them. They feed on grief, you know. But they won't mind me—”

“Thank you so much for your time,” I said, digging my lock picking kit out of my bag. I hoped my dismissal would send the housecoat-clad woman back into her own apartment, but instead she closed the door behind her and waited for a chance to snoop inside the Belascos' place. For all I knew, she had been waiting years for this moment. Who was I to disappoint her?

“I can't
let you do that,” Sammy said as I tried to jimmy the first pick into the opening, then replaced the tool with something smaller.

“Face the other way. We won't tell anyone. Will we?” Dolly winked at the neighbor who blushed.

“Not us,” she said in response, trying to smooth the gray strands that had run away from her long French braid.

Despite having a top-of-the-line picking kit, deadbolt aficionado certainly isn't listed on my resume, and the audience wasn't helping. Sammy had given up on looking the other way, and I doubted this was the first time he'd skirted the law. No one gets assigned desk duty for months without some sort of screwup. The neighbor was practically humming with excitement, and only Dolly was giving me enough space to work. I was sweating by the time I heard the encouraging slide of cylinders, and I said a silent prayer that I wasn't leading my makeshift crew onto the scene of a double suicide.

The living room looked much as I remembered it, furniture still wrapped in plastic, family photos still smiling at me. There was more clutter this time, and as I walked into the kitchen, I was immediately greeted by the smell of ripe garbage. The trashcan was overflowing with a few papers and cans scattered onto the floor. Slow flies hovered around the lids sticky with food residue. Ernesto's bedroom hadn't been touched, but his parents' room was a wreck. Drawers were thrown open, hangers littered the floor, and pillows had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed.

“Shit,” Sammy said for the tenth or so time. Then he added, “This wasn't on my watch. I got here at six. Nothing happened to the Belascos while I was outside, got it?”

“Nothing happened to the Belascos period,” I said. It did look like the place had been ransacked, but unless kidnappers were in the habit of packing pajamas for their victims, the
Belascos had fled on their own. Down the fire escape by the looks of the open window, avoiding the patrol parked in front. Had their fear of the Zeus group gotten to them? It was possible, but they'd be safer under police protection. I glanced at Sammy, who had his hand on the holster of his gun, his own fear making him look for comfort somewhere. Maybe not. I gestured toward the open window, letting Sammy work out the details himself, and headed back toward the kitchen.

The neighbor was rifling through the trash, throwing packaging on the floor to get to the papers. “This is what they do on the cop shows,” she said, holding up a Bank of America bill. She looked over the contents, but apparently didn't see anything interesting because she tossed it aside. I probably should have asked her to stop, but what could it hurt now. I picked up the bill myself, wondering if the Belascos skipped a funeral because of the cost rather than my original homophobia theory. The $135.67 balance was too low to cost them any sleep. A charge to The Fountain print shop, though? Now that was the kind of information to turn a lady's head.

While Sammy was busy trying to simultaneously distance himself from the missing parents (“Not my shift, not my shift”) and me, I was beating myself up over missing the possibility of a copy cat funeral invitation. The death threats had been reported by all of the local papers, but they hadn't mentioned the specific business that would handle such vitriol. How had the Belascos found out? A better question might be, why had they sent themselves hate mail? They must have known that they would need an excuse to run away.

I could hear Sammy using my name while he filled in his superiors on the situation, but I wasn't about to wait around
for paperwork. Dolly and I walked out of the Belascos' front door, leaving their neighbor happily helping herself to the dirty secrets she could find amidst the tossed-out leftovers. Detective Cowder was sure to arrive soon, and the possibility that Ellis might be with her caused me to walk a little faster than usual. I had accused his brother of murder with the ill-advised confidence of a rookie, and now the parents might be more involved than they had seemed.

“A bunch of sad parents,” I had told Marco. While I hadn't found a newly minted Zeus Society membership card in their sock drawer, the Belascos must have talked to Leader Holt. He could have given them the death threat details, down to the black noose insignia. And that particular bird-killer, I knew where to find.

Sammy wasn't happy when I told him where we were headed, but he'd been instructed to stay put. When I suggested he send someone out to the warehouse, he mumbled something about never being taken at his word anymore. I hoped that whatever mess he had on his record didn't put us in danger, but I couldn't lose any time. The Belascos had already proven themselves to be a flight risk. I knew that Sammy would relay our destination to the detectives who arrived, but I called John Thornfield to update him as well. The drug connection seemed fainter and fainter, but I felt better knowing the veteran agent was aware of our intentions.

“So this is where the monsters dwell,” Dolly said as we approached the warehouse. It had started to flurry, and my friend's teeth were chattering. He refused to turn back, even when I warned him that Leader Holt might try his voodoo brain power to turn him straight. Or shoot him for kicks. Dolly had insisted on taking his chances. And the Belascos? I wasn't sure if their hate extended beyond their immediate family, but I wasn't keen to find out. “I'm more concerned about what
Vondya is going to do when you get that pretty red hair wet,” Dolly said.

I pulled my scarf more tightly around my head, not exactly nonchalant about Vondya myself. She had some Russian phrases that sounded a lot like curses and, come to think of it, my life hadn't been going as planned lately. For starters, I never wanted to see this entrance to hell again, but there we were—Orpheus and Eurydice or something. I wasn't sure who was who, but neither of us was stellar at following directions. Gods help us.

The padlock hadn't been replaced since yesterday, so I pulled open the door, wincing at the noise. Once inside, Dolly surveyed the canisters, but my eyes went to the pigeon corner. I was relieved to see that Leader Holt was tidy at least. There wasn't a single bloodstain in sight, and I hoped that we didn't find out where he kept the bodies. The warehouse was large, and Dolly suggested that we split up to cover the rooms more quickly. I'd seen that movie and didn't like the ending. Instead, I directed us toward the meeting room, which was more than empty. It was scrubbed clean. Not a single folding chair was left, and I could see my reflection in the linoleum. We hurried on to Holt's office, but it was empty, too. Even the desktop computer was gone. I yanked open the file cabinets to find a few paperclips and rubber bands left behind. Nothing useful.

“We're too late. It looks like everyone's jumped shipped, Belascos in tow,” I said, picking up the empty trashcan to make sure I hadn't missed something. A written confession would be nice.

“Come on, there must be some untried nooks and crannies in this creepy ass place.”

The only other room that I'd seen had been my own interrogation room when John Thornfield had grilled me on what little I knew. My information was better now, but I could
almost feel the bad guys slipping away. Finding out that Taylor Soto had killed himself and Bobbie Giabella by accident had left me feeling lost. There was no justice to be found there. But maybe there was still some left for Ernesto. The last hand he'd dealt had been to me.
What a waste of talent,
I thought, using his mother's adjective. I could admit that I was slightly in awe of his ability to trick a room full of big spenders. No wonder Salvatore wanted him. I doubted Lars Dekker had half the skill.

Nobody was waiting inside the interrogation room, and I began to lose hope. Then the sound of muffled voices in the next room made my body freeze. I recovered in time to beat Dolly to the door. A Winchester rifle was aimed at my chest.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

S
hall I lead this time, Cronos?” I said. The Belascos cowered behind their leader, too frightened to appreciate my bravado. By Dolly's whispered “holy hell” behind me, I suspected that he wasn't impressed either.

“Who are you?” His slow speech made him sound like the caterpillar from
Alice in Wonderland
, and maybe we'd all fallen down the rabbit hole. Magic couldn't have made the situation worse.

“You told me that you don't like to get your hands dirty, so unless you want me to compliment your barrel, let's aim it elsewhere.”

Leader Holt's confused expression smoothed. Apparently he hadn't menaced too many people lately—in person at least—because he introduced me to his company as Kate Manning, trespasser and sympathizer. I've never been prouder.

“Kate Manning?” Mrs. Belasco said. Her voice was raw as if she'd been shouting, and she took a step away from the leader. “No, these are Ernesto's friends. They came to visit us.”

“Your neighbor in 16 says hello,” I said. “She was worried when you disappeared last night.”

Cronos made a frustrated sound and turned his head toward the Belascos without putting the gun down. “You swore no one would know you'd gone.”

The rifle was about a foot away from my chest, but I was scared to grab it. The room was small for five people. Even if the bullet missed on its first pass, it might ricochet.

“Sally Ann is a busybody, but not too bright. I didn't think she'd notice.”

“If Leader Holt convinced you to kill your son, Mrs. Belasco, your sentence might be more lenient,” I said, too afraid to spare any pity for the underestimated neighbor.

“You're not a friend of Ernie's,” she asked, her voice cracking at her son's nickname. Ernie and Bobbie, the saddest pair I could imagine. I hoped they found each other in the afterlife.

“No, I met him once. Right before he started choking. Don't believe the celebrity hype. Poison's not pretty.”

At this Mrs. Belasco started to cry, and her husband pulled her toward him protectively. It was clear that however they felt about homosexuality in general, they hadn't hated their son. What could have pushed them to such extreme measures?
Who
was a better question.

“Be strong, Maria,” Cronos said. “Don't say anything.”

“Mrs. Belasco?” Dolly took a step toward the grieving mother, and Cronos swiveled the gun toward him. I didn't consciously decide to attack and was almost stunned when the bullet blasted through the ceiling, sheetrock raining down on all of us. The leader held onto his weapon, but it was still pointed at the ceiling. I was close enough to knee him in the groin. When his grip loosened, I yanked the Winchester toward me, and the momentum made me fall hard, smacking into the concrete floor. The gun may have been in my possession, but there wasn't much I could do with it. My elbow had snapped back out of place, and all I wanted to do was pass out. Luck
was not on my side because Cronos recovered quickly and headed for me. I held the handle tight to my chest with my good arm, hoping I could survive a beating. Leader Holt only got in one weak punch before Mr. Belasco grabbed him and pulled him away.

“Enough,” he said. “We appreciate your help, Cronos, but not like this.”

Dolly had taken two more steps toward Mrs. Belasco and was now holding her while she sobbed. She didn't seem to mind his touch, and covered in dust, they looked like statues. Cronos couldn't have looked further from divine as he snarled at Mr. Belasco to let him go, ranting about gays being to blame for the downfall of the Greek empire. That explained the mystery of the group's name, at least.

“If you turn yourself in, you'll be safe,” I said to the Belascos instead. From my position on the ground, I probably didn't seem very authoritative. The pain had brought along some clarity, and I thought I knew why the Belascos had killed their son. “At least for awhile. The Magrellis can't get to you inside.”