“It didn’t work out that way, did it?” Detective Danny Sullivan snapped. “She’s become this romantic heroine. The heiress with the biker. What a crock of shit.”
“You have anything on this club? I’ve never heard of them,” Monroe asked.
“I’ve got our people looking into it,” Harbin Conner said. “They’re up north, on the coast, three or four hours from here. They’re a small-time, nothing club. Even the Diamondbacks don’t think they’re worth pushing around. Very small. Probably a bunch of weekenders wanting chicks to think they’re hot.”
Dr. Cyrus Mills picked up his cards, discarded two immediately and tapped the table. “This will blow over. No one needs to panic. If necessary, we can lie low for a while. I agree, Winston needs to go. He’s a weak link. We let the woman live for a while with her biker, and she’ll get sick of slumming and be ready for a wealthy man who wants to spoil her.”
Harbin Conner nodded at the assessment. “I’ve never understood why these women want the bikers to debase them and treat them like servants. Why get beat up and carry their drugs for them, taking all the risks?”
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.”