20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20)(81)

“Mr. Antoine’s laughing. Like, Good job, boy. Now there are cops following me. And the rest is a blur. Somehow I got locked into traffic. Then the cop car makes us crash. The cop comes over and I don’t have a driver’s license. I don’t have registration. Next thing I know, Mr. Antoine is over on my side of the car and he shoots the cop and steals a car.

“He’s gone, and I get arrested for everything.”

Yuki asked, “Did you know that Antoine had a gun?”

“I didn’t see it, but sure. I knew he had a gun.”

“You say you knew he sold drugs. How about the car?”

“It wasn’t his. But he didn’t tell me it was stolen.”

Parisi said, “Mr. Warren, so you knew a lot, but not everything. Here’s what I need to know now. Do you know where Castro got the drugs?”

“Yes, sir. I know his special source.”

“Do you know the names of his customers?”

“Sure. I’ve driven him before.”

“And do you know the names of his crew? People who are also participating in Mr. Castro’s criminal enterprise?”

There was a long silence as Clay more or less shut down. Yuki saw the same expression on his face that she had seen when he’d stopped talking to Zac and to her, when she’d been looking at a slam-dunk conviction for felony murder.

His expression was flat. He didn’t make eye contact.

No one was home.





CHAPTER 119





YUKI STOOD IN the center of the room with her hands on her hips, staring at the kid.

“Zac, tell him,” she said.

“Clay,” Zac said. “If you don’t want to go through with our agreement, I’ll be happy to take you to jail and say good-bye.”

The kid shook his head, looked past Yuki and Zac to the doorway as if he were going to make a run for it, a physical impossibility.

“Sorry, Len,” Yuki said. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

Clay seemed to understand he’d reached the point of no return. He said, “I could give you a list. Better than that, I have Mr. Antoine’s book. I hid it. Everything you want is in there. His allergies are in there. His PIN codes and passwords to his phone. His lists of people and I don’t know what all. He was always afraid the government would hack his phone.

“But I have a question. How are you going to stop his crew from killing me and my family?”

Zac said, “Mr. Parisi, I haven’t seen the book, but I know where it is. If it’s all my client says it is, we need to get him into witness protection.”

“Where is it?” Len asked.

“It’s in the property desk on the seventh floor.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Clay, tell Mr. Parisi.”

“It was on the seat when the police car made us crash. Fell out of his pocket. Uh … it’s only this big.”

He showed with his fingers a rectangle about the size of a deck of cards.

Clay Warren looked at his lawyer, who nodded.

“I put it in my jacket, and when I was booked, I handed over all my possessions. The book. Some change. My keys. They put all of it in an envelope with my name.”

Parisi said, “Ms. Castellano, please go up to seven and get the book. Mr. Jordan, you and your client please wait outside with Toni. Thank you.”

Yuki buzzed out of the office. Zac helped Clay to stand and walked with him to the door. It hadn’t quite closed when he heard Parisi’s chair squeak as he spun it so that his back was to the entrance.

“Your Honor? It’s Len Parisi. I may have some exculpatory evidence to show you before the Clay Warren trial resumes next week.”





CHAPTER 120





THE FULL MEMBERSHIP of the Women’s Murder Club planned to have dinner at Susie’s tonight.

It had been a week or two since Yuki had sung “Margaritaville” in the front room, since Cindy and I had broken bread together, since Claire had given up half a lung, since Yuki’s trial had gone backward, which was what she had wanted.

And I had yet to tell how I survived the shootout at the Thornton Avenue corral and, with a lot of help from my friends, brought in the baddest gunman in the West.

We were all excited to catch up, listen, talk, eat with our fingers. Plus I was having a predinner meet-up with Claire. I missed her so much. I had to hear what Dr. Terk had told her, and she felt this wasn’t a conversation to be had on the phone or in email.

I said to Joe at breakfast, “Please have dinner without me. This is a major girl catch-up night. Urgent. Vital. Long overdue.”

My husband had never looked more handsome. His stay with Dave Channing had given him a glow. He’d told me all about it, and I admired his ingenuity and his commitment. And that his faith in his friend, and himself, had been renewed.

We’d had a wonderful welcome-home night together, and now he was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. I moved in close and stood between his legs, combed his hair with my fingers.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me, so that I felt a charge down to my toes. He looked at me and said, “You want to go out with your friends, how could I possibly say no? But before you decide to go to Susie’s, you have to see this.”