Chapter One #2
“Your foundation.”
Antonio tipped his chin toward the cards.
“That’s vague.”
“You asked a vague question.”
“What do they actually say?”
I touched the edge of the reversed Three of Pentacles.
“Something around you isn’t as stable as you think it is. The problem doesn’t look external.”
Antonio’s amusement faded by a fraction.
“Business?”
“Possibly.”
“Money?”
“Possibly.”
“You’re very committed to not being useful.”
I raised my head.
“You want useful? Pay attention to the people you already trust.”
That silenced him.
The pressure behind my eye pulsed harder.
For one second, the penthouse blurred.
Another image slid over it.
A flash of silver.
A hard vertical line.
Something breaking.
Then nothing.
I blinked.
Antonio’s face sharpened back into focus.
Antonio hadn’t moved, but his eyes were fixed on me.
“What did you see?”
“Not enough.”
“But something.”
I took a slow drink of water.
“I saw a fragment. It doesn’t give me a name.”
“What kind of fragment?”
“Silver. Something breaking. That could mean fifty things.”
“Could it mean me?”
“It could.”
He sat back.
Most people got nervous when a reading turned ugly.
Antonio leaned back with interest instead.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“The Tower isn’t a party trick.”
“No, but neither are you.”
“Flattery won’t make the cards more specific.”
“Nothing makes you more specific.”
“That’s not true. Money does wonders.”
His laugh came easily again.
I gathered the other two cards.
Antonio put two fingers on The Tower before I could take it.
“Leave this one.”
I paused.
“For what?”
“I want to see if anything happens.”
“It’s cardboard, Antonio.”
“So you say.”
“You paid me to tell you the cards matter, and now I’m arguing that one is cardboard. This booking has taken a strange turn.”
“Humor me.”
I studied him.
He was healthy, smug, and entirely too entertained by the possibility that the cards were warning him about something real.
“Overnight,” I said. “I want it back.”
“Agreed.”
I slid The Tower toward him.
He picked it up and studied the ruined stone structure, the falling figures, the bolt splitting the sky.
“Betrayal from inside.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“You think I should be worried.”
“I think you should pay attention.”
Antonio set the card beside his glass.
“I always do.”
I packed the rest of the deck.
My head still ached, though the nausea had eased. I tucked the cards into their cloth wrap and returned them to my bag.
Antonio stood.
“You’re leaving early.”
“Our booking is almost over.”
“I could extend it.”
“You could request an extension through The Network.”
“You’d say yes.”
“I might.”
“That sounds suspiciously like no.”
“It sounds exactly like maybe.”
He smiled, retrieved the heel I’d left by the bar, and handed it to me.
I slipped it on, then crossed the carpet for the second one and put that on too.
“Good night, Antonio.”
He caught my hand before I turned away, not hard enough to stop me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“For the card?”
“For the card. Maybe for the rest.”
I slipped my hand free.
“Request through the app.”
“Always professional.”
“That’s why I’m expensive.”
Antonio laughed as I picked up my coat and walked to the door.
When I glanced back, he was standing beside the marble bar with The Tower lying faceup near his glass, still smiling.
I left him that way.
The private elevator carried me down through The Exchange while the casino’s noise gradually returned. By the lobby, music and voices blended with the clatter of chips and the electronic trill of machines.
I stepped outside into cold river air.
Damp leaves skittered along the pavement. I pulled my coat tighter over my dress and opened The Network app.
The check-in prompt waited on the screen.
Booking complete?
I tapped yes.
Safe departure confirmed?
Yes.
The timestamp registered.
Under it, the familiar motto appeared in clean white lettering.
Discretion. Elegance. Choice.
Usually, I barely noticed it.
Tonight, I thought about the card I’d left forty floors above me.
Then I put my phone away and went home.
Someone pounded on my apartment door before I’d managed to sleep.
I jerked upright on the couch.
For a second, I had no idea where I was.
Then the room settled around me.
The lamp was still on, throwing a low pool of light across the couch and coffee table.
My tarot bag sat where I’d left it.
I was in black leggings and a charcoal long-sleeved shirt instead of my dress, with my makeup washed off except for the stubborn shadow under my eyes.
The pounding came again.
“Ms. Moon? Cascade Point Police.”
My stomach dropped.
I got up without answering.
The security screen beside the door showed a man and a woman in plain clothes, both holding badges toward the camera.
The man was stocky under a dark wool coat, with short brown hair graying at the temples and faint shadows beneath his eyes.
The woman beside him wore a charcoal coat over a black sweater, her brown hair pulled into a low knot.
I checked the deadbolt anyway.
Then I opened the door with the chain still latched.
“Yes?”
The man closest to the door lifted his badge again.
“Stella Moon?”
“Yes.”
He angled the badge so I could read it. “Detective Brian Dempsey. This is Detective Erica Talbot. I’m leading an investigation involving Antonio Bellacorte. We need to speak with you.”
Every muscle in my shoulders tightened.
“What happened?”
“May we come in?”
“What happened?”
Dempsey and Talbot exchanged a brief look.
Dempsey answered.
“Mr. Bellacorte was found dead in his penthouse tonight.”
The hallway went strangely quiet.
My fingers tightened around the chain.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I left him alive.”
Both detectives stayed still. Talbot’s expression sharpened while Dempsey’s mouth flattened.
“When did you leave?” Talbot asked.
I unlatched the chain.
“You’d better come in.”
They stepped inside.
I closed the door behind them and stayed standing.
Talbot let her eyes move once around the apartment before facing me again.
My tarot cloth was still folded on the table beside the bag holding the rest of my deck.
The missing card seemed a lot less harmless now.
Dempsey turned back to me.
“You said Mr. Bellacorte was alive when you left.”
“I did.”
“What time?”
“I can give you the exact timestamp. The Network requires an end-of-booking safety check.”
“The Network?”
“I’m an escort.”
Neither reacted, which spared me one annoyance.
Talbot took out a small notebook while Dempsey remained standing across from me.
“You were booked by Mr. Bellacorte tonight?”
“Yes.”
“At his penthouse?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
“Sex and a tarot reading.”
Dempsey nodded toward the bag on my table.
“You read professionally?”
“Yes.”
“And you had sex with him?”
“Yes.”
“Consensually?”
“Yes.”
I kept my voice flat.
Talbot continued.
“What time did the booking end?”
I reached for my phone slowly.
“Can I show you?”
“Yes.”
I opened The Network app and pulled up the completed safety check.
Talbot read the timestamp.
“This was entered when?”
“After I left the penthouse.”
“It proves you entered the check-in.”
“I know.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“You understand it doesn’t establish where you physically were when you did it.”
“I told you I left him standing in the penthouse. I didn’t say the app was a tracking device.”
Dempsey shifted his weight.
“What happened during the tarot reading?”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Please answer the question.”
I took a breath.
“He asked what he should be watching for. I pulled three cards. I told him the spread suggested instability and conflict inside his trusted circle.”
“Which cards?”
My mouth went dry.
“The Tower. Five of Swords. Three of Pentacles reversed.”
Dempsey went still.
“What happened to those cards after the reading?”
“I packed two of them.”
“And The Tower?”
I already knew.
The cold moved over my skin before he said it.
“Antonio asked to keep it overnight.”
Talbot’s pen paused above the notebook.
“He asked you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was fascinated by the reading. He wanted to see if anything happened.”
“Did you normally leave cards with clients?”
“No.”
“So this was unusual.”
“Yes.”
Dempsey stepped closer to the table.
“The Tower was found beside Mr. Bellacorte’s body.”
I gripped the back of a chair.
For one second, the room narrowed to the pressure of wood against my palm.
“Beside him?”
“Yes.”
“How did he die?”
“We aren’t discussing details yet.”
“You came into my apartment before dawn and told me my card was next to a murdered client. I think we’re past being delicate.”
Talbot’s voice stayed even.
“Did you take any weapon into the penthouse?”
“No.”
“Did Mr. Bellacorte have weapons there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You spent time in the suite.”
“I was in the rooms we used for the booking. I wasn’t searching his penthouse.”
Dempsey studied me for another second.
“Who knew you were there?”
“The Network. Antonio. Whoever he told.”
“His chief of security, Mikhail Volkov, confirmed you were his private appointment.”
The name meant little to me beyond the vague awareness that Antonio employed layers of people to handle anything inconvenient.
“Then Volkov knew I was there. Did he see Antonio while I was there?”
They didn’t answer.
A headache started at the base of my skull.
“What?”
Talbot closed her notebook.
“The security footage covering parts of the relevant period is unavailable.”
“Unavailable how?”
“Missing, corrupted, unclear. We’re still determining the extent.”
“So a casino with cameras everywhere somehow lost footage from the period when its owner was murdered?”
“We’re investigating.”
“That’s convenient.”
“For whom?”
I almost laughed.
Instead I folded my arms.
“If you knew that, you wouldn’t be standing in my apartment asking whether I killed him.”
“We haven’t accused you of anything.”
“You told me my tarot card was beside his body.”
“We’re establishing what happened.”
“Then establish this. Antonio Bellacorte was alive when I left. He asked me to leave The Tower. I completed my Network check-in after I was out of the casino.”
Dempsey studied me.
“Did you argue?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did he owe you money?”