Chapter One #3
“No. Payment goes through The Network.”
“Any personal relationship outside the bookings?”
“No.”
“Were you jealous of anyone in his life?”
“I was paid to have sex with him. I wasn’t auditioning to become his girlfriend.”
Talbot’s mouth twitched as if she was suppressing a reaction.
Dempsey’s expression didn’t change.
“Did you know about any problems in his business?”
“No.”
“Enemies?”
“He owned a casino. I assume plenty of people disliked him.”
“But you specifically told him to watch the people he trusted.”
“Because of the cards.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“I expect you to write down what happened.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Talbot finally slipped the notebook into her coat.
“We may need to speak with you again.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Am I free to leave Cascade Point?”
“We’re not restricting your movement at this time.”
“At this time.”
Talbot answered without looking away.
“You’re the last private appointment we can currently confirm. Your card was found at the scene. We need to be able to reach you.”
“Then you have my number.”
Dempsey handed me his card.
“If you remember anything else, call.”
“I remember him standing at the bar when I left.”
They left that unanswered.
They walked out.
I locked the deadbolt behind them.
Then the chain.
Then I stood with my hand still on the door.
The low lamp still burned. My tarot bag still sat on the table with the rest of the deck.
One card was forty floors away beside a dead man.
I crossed to the couch and picked up my phone.
There were people I could call for comfort.
I didn’t want comfort.
I wanted someone who understood how much trouble could fit inside one missing tarot card.
Locke answered on the second ring.
“Stella?”
“I need help.”
His voice sharpened immediately. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
I sat down because my knees had started to feel unreliable.
“Antonio Bellacorte is dead.”
Locke was silent for a beat.
“What happened?”
“The police were just here. They found him in the penthouse.”
“They found him after your booking?”
“Yes. And they found The Tower beside his body.”
Locke went quiet again.
“He asked me to leave it,” I said. “I swear to God, he was alive when I walked out.”
“I believe you.”
The certainty in his voice hit me harder than I expected.
I pressed my fingers against the ache behind my eye.
“The casino footage from around the time of the murder is missing or corrupted. The detectives said they’re still trying to determine how much.”
“Did they arrest you?”
“No.”
“Did they restrict your movement?”
“No. They said they may want to question me again.”
I heard the faint clack of Locke’s keyboard through the phone.
“I’m looking at our record,” Locke said. “Your booking came through normally, payment cleared, and your end-of-booking safety confirmation is here.”
“They told me it doesn’t prove where I was when I checked in.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“But it does give us an independent timestamp consistent with what you told them.”
I let out a slow breath.
“That’s something.”
“Yes.”
Dempsey’s card sat on the coffee table.
“Locke, they think I might have killed him.”
“They’re looking at you because you were in his penthouse, and your card was found beside his body.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. I’m telling you why I don’t want you handling this alone.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What do I do?”
“I’m going to call Thomas Bancroft.”
“Who?”
“He owns Bancroft Risk Group, a private security company I use when a problem is beyond normal protection.”
The deadbolt was still thrown across the front door.
“You think I need that?”
“I think Bellacorte was murdered, you’re now tied to the scene, and someone may have interfered with the casino’s security system. I don’t know what any of that means yet.”
I didn’t either.
“I want someone with you until we do,” Locke said.
I didn’t argue.
“Okay.”
“I’m calling Thomas now. Stay inside. Keep your phone with you. If the police come back, call me afterward. If anyone else contacts you about Bellacorte, don’t engage until we know who they are.”
“All right.”
“I’ll call you back as soon as I have something.”
The line went dead.
I stayed on the couch.
Sleep wasn’t happening now.
Neither was another tarot reading. My head still throbbed from the first one, and I’d had enough warnings for one night.
My phone rang again less than ten minutes later.
I answered immediately.
“What did he say?”
“Bancroft has someone available. His name is Geo DiNero.”
I’d never heard the name before.
“And he trusts Geo?”
“He called Geo his best operative for this kind of assignment.”
That was about as strong an endorsement as I was likely to get from a man I’d never met.
“When will he be here?”
“Soon. Thomas is sending him directly to you.”
I checked the deadbolt again from the couch.
“Fine.”
“I’ll stay reachable. Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
“Stella?”
“Yes?”
“You did the right thing calling me.”
My throat tightened.
“Thanks, Locke.”
We hung up.
I lowered the phone.
A few hours ago, Antonio Bellacorte had been alive and smiling when I walked out of his penthouse.
Now he was dead, my tarot card was evidence in his murder, and a man named Geo DiNero was on his way to keep me alive.