Win (Windsor Horne Lockwood III #1)(81)

The mustache twitch tells me I struck gold.

“Wait,” Fred says, eyes widening. “The Ry Strauss? If this is about—”

“Shh,” I say to him again, keeping my eyes on Steve. “You then gave or sold that information, I’m not yet sure which, to an individual who killed Mr. Strauss. That, my facially hirsute friend, makes you an accessory to murder.”

“What?” Steve and his mustache are appropriately still, but Fred is ready to do faux battle for his client.

“You can’t prove—”

“Steve, right now, I alone know this. I won’t say a word to the authorities. Not ever. I won’t make it public. I won’t let it get back to whomever you so dreadfully fear. You will tell me what you know, and then we will all continue our lives as though this never happened. The only change in your life? You’ll be five thousand dollars richer.”

No reply.

“If you choose to decline my offer or lie to me or claim you don’t know what I’m talking about, I will walk down the corridor to my friends in law enforcement and tell them that you are an accessory to murder. Fred here can tell you that I have friends. Lots of friends. You don’t get the chance to come in here and chitchat alone with a bank robber in custody if you don’t have friends. Am I right, Fred?”

“You can’t—”

“Shh.” I look over at Steve.

Steve shifts in his chair. “What exactly do you want to know?”

“I want to know the contents of the safe deposit box. I want to know who else knows about the contents.”

Steve looks at Fred. Fred shrugs. Steve turns his attention back to the mustache. “How about ten grand?”

I can easily afford it, but what fun would that be? “I take that as a ‘no deal’ then.” I put two fists on the table as though to push myself to a stand. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

Steve waves his tiny hands at me. “Just…stop that, okay? You promise it doesn’t leave this room? I mean, forget the cops. If it gets out I talked—”

“It won’t,” I say.

“Promise?”

I mime crossing my heart.

Fred looks as though he’s going to argue, but Steve shakes him off.

“Yeah, okay, we broke in. We all know this. And the cash in the safe is light. One of our guys got it wrong. He thought the pickup…never mind, that doesn’t matter. So we are already in there, that’s the hard part, so I suggest we go for the boxes. We have the tools. You interested in the technical details?”

“Of how you broke into the boxes?”

“Yeah.”

“Not in the slightest,” I say. “Skip ahead.”

“Okay, right, so anyway, we get the stuff back to our safe house. It’s in Millbrook. You ever been? Gorgeous place. Not far from Poughkeepsie.”

I stare at him.

“Right, right, not important. Anyway, we get a lot of good stuff. People keep all kinds of great stuff in those boxes. Watches, diamonds.”

I gesture for him to speed up with my hand. “And Ry Strauss?”

“Right, sorry. Yeah, I find this birth certificate. All official-like. I’m about to throw it out, but then I figure maybe one of the forgers can use the paper stock. It’s got a raised seal too. So I hand it to Randy, that’s my brother-in-law. Anyway, Randy reads it and is like ‘Holy shit, let me see the rest of his stuff.’ And it’s just more paperwork, fake IDs, a deed on an apartment, stuff like that. I say, ‘What’s the big deal? Who is Ryker Strauss?’ See, that was the name on the certificate. Ryker. So Randy, he says, ‘Dummy, it’s Ry Strauss,’ and I’m like, ‘Who?’ and then he explains about how famous he is and that he’s been missing and all that. You want to know what our first thought was?”

I’m not sure, but I reply, “I would, yes.”

“We could sell this stuff to, like, a TV station.”

“A TV station?”

“You know, like one of those magazine shows or cable news shows. 60 Minutes or 48 Hours. It could be a huge story. But I’m thinking Geraldo too.”

“Geraldo?”

“Geraldo Rivera? You know who he is?”

I let him know that I do.

Steve looks wistful. “I always liked Geraldo. Tells it like it is. And I think he got a bum rap on that whole Al Capone vault thing, do you remember that?”

I let him know that I do.

“So I’m picturing a bidding war for this information, or maybe, I don’t know, like I said, I really admire Geraldo, so maybe we just make the deal with him. I bet I could meet him too. Geraldo seems like a regular guy. Tells it like it is.”

“And you two have the mustache in common,” I say, because I can’t help myself.

“Right?” He’s animated now. “See? And maybe, who knows, but maybe I can even get my picture taken with Geraldo or something. I mean, look what I’m bringing him. Geraldo, he’s a regular guy. He’d be grateful. And talk about redemption. If he’s the one who finds Ry Strauss, I mean, wow, people forget that stupid Capone vault was empty, am I right?”

I look at Fred. Fred shrugs.

“But Randy, he slaps me in the head. Not hard. Gentle like. Randy and me, we’re close. It’s why you have to keep his name out of it. Anyway, Randy says we can’t sell it to a TV show because it’ll be a huge story and draw a lot of attention. The cops will be all over the place, and they’ll pressure the TV network or whatever and then it’ll be over for us. I argue that Geraldo would never sell us out. He wouldn’t. He’s not the type. But Randy, he says that even if he doesn’t sell us out, there’ll be so much heat on us, something will crack. I’m disappointed—I mean, I really figured Geraldo could use this—so I start defending Geraldo, but then Randy says it’s too dangerous for another reason.”