Chapter 39
The door to the small Cherry Creek bungalow opened and Nick Wu, Bart Romanski’s husband, stood in it.
“Oh no,” he said, staring at Cash.
“That’s a nice greeting,” she said.
“Sorry,” said Wu, flustered. “It’s just … well, it’s nine o’clock at night.”
Cash waited on the threshold. She could hear Romanski’s voice from inside. “Who the hell is at the door?”
Wu stepped aside. “It’s your boss.”
Cash heard a groan and took the opportunity to step into the house. Romanski came around the corner into the entryway, dressed in a rich satin robe, carrying a martini. He halted in consternation.
“Oh no,” Romanski said. “Not another stiff, is it?”
“No, nothing like that. There’s something we need to discuss. Confidentially.”
“All right.”
Cash followed as Romanski shuffled into a small sitting room. Wu followed. Romanski seated himself and invited her to sit. He said, somewhat reluctantly, “Can I offer you something? Water? Coffee? A drink?”
“I want one of those,” said Cash, eyeing the martini.
Romanski stared. “I see.” He turned to Wu. “Babe, will you make her one and another for me?”
“Dirty. Three olives,” said Cash.
At this, Romanski’s eyebrows rose farther. “You heard the boss.”
Wu got up and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m getting the feeling this is not a typical work meeting,” said Romanski.
“It isn’t. I’ve a favor to ask you. A big one. And it’s to be kept secret.”
“I’m intrigued.”
Cash could hear Wu shaking the drinks in the kitchen. She would need a stiff one to get through this. “You know that we recovered the relic of Saint John the Baptist at Castillo’s apartment in San Francisco.”
“Of course. Holmes has it stored in my trusty evidence freezer in the lab.”
“I want to do a DNA analysis of it.”
A silence. “And you’ve come to me at this hour to ask me to do this, instead of submitting the request through channels?”
“I tried regular channels. Holmes turned me down flat. Her priority is getting the relic back to the Catholic Church—-intact.”
“I see.”
Wu came back with a tray carrying three dirty green martinis, with three huge olives speared on a toothpick, chips of ice floating on the surface. He passed another to his husband and sat down, lifting his own
new martini.
“Um, would it be okay to have some privacy?” Cash asked.
“No,” said Romanski. “He’s my life partner—-Nick and I share everything. I rely on his sound judgment.”
“Since he doesn’t have any of his own,” said Wu.
Romanski gave him a playful punch.
Cash decided not to press the issue.
Wu raised his glass. “Cheers.” He took a deep sip.
She did the same, feeling icy liquid burn down the back of her throat.
“Why’d Holmes say no?” Romanski asked.
“Because it’s a holy of holies, can’t be touched, might cause a scandal, and there’s a priest sent here by the pope himself to collect it.”
“Ah. The plot thickens. But … Cash, tell me why you want to sequence the DNA. How could that possibly help the investigation?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that Grooms was sending large sums of money through Margie Brooksfield, and then through Castillo, to a nonprofit called Paradox.
But then the money flowed through a bunch of offshore accounts and ended up controlled by a man named Khachatryan.
We think he’s somewhere in Portugal, but can’t say for sure. ”
“Money laundering?”
“It would certainly seem so. Fraud as well, because the transfer of money from a 501(c)(3) to benefit a private party is fraud.”
“Go on.”
“Khachatryan contacted me. He was cagey but insistent: Sequence the DNA, he said.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. But he said that members of an organization called Devotio were killing them. I think this DNA has something to do with why.”
A silence. “So you want me to do it on the sly.”
“Yes.”
“Look, Cash, can you just think about this for a moment? First, that’s a big ask.
I could lose my job. Second, if word got out, CBI could be crucified by the press.
Oops. Not a good metaphor. Anyway, we’ve already got a priest railing against us.
Third, I’m going to have to bring Reno in on this.
I don’t have the skill set to do it alone. ”
“I realize that. But I’m pretty sure Reno will be onboard.”
“I know he will, but that’s not the point. The point is, it’s a risk for him too.”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t believe this could be something big.”
“How could a DNA test possibly reveal information relevant to the case? What does it matter if the relic is real, fake, from an animal, or made out of plaster? None of that can have anything to do with the Castillo homicide—-right?”
“Castillo risked his life to steal that thing to sequence its DNA. Khachatryan was adamant as well. There must be something to it.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I just … have a feeling.”
“A feeling …” He shook his head.
There was a long silence, and then Cash said, “I know I’m being unfair pulling you guys into this. You’re the best, and we’ve been through a lot together, including the Neander case. You saved my life. I owe you.”
“And you saved mine.”
“I did, thank you. Can you please trust me on this? I just know this is crucial. I can’t tell you why.
The relic’s in your lab. You and Reno could pop it out of the safe, take a tiny sample, pop it back in.
Five minutes. The amount you need for the test would be microscopic. No one would be the wiser.”
Romanski gazed at her a long time and then turned to his husband. “Nick?”
Wu looked surprised. “What, you want my advice? How remarkable.”
“Yes, because of your alleged good judgment,” said Romanski with a laugh.
“Well,” said Wu, “in that case, I think you should do it.”
“What? Why?” Romanski sounded surprised.
Wu shrugged. “I’m curious as hell about what that DNA sequencing might turn up.”