After Dave closed the door, Roy looked at the mail slip clipped to the book. It was in Diane’s neat handwriting that he’d seen on many documents. The mail form had a date and time-of-day box to show when it had gone into the system; however, Diane had not filled in this information. The form did have his name on it as the recipient, so the book was meant for him. There was no reason for her to send it to him. But she had. He flipped through some pages, but it was just an old book.

His phone rang. “Yeah?” His mouth formed a smile when he heard the voice.

Mace said, “You must’ve billed nearly a hundred hours so far today.”

“I told you this is a humane law firm. We don’t have to lie by the hour.”

“You got time to talk?”

“Sure, when?”

“How about now?”

His door opened and Mace waved to him. Roy shook his head and put down his phone. “Are you always this weird?”

“You haven’t begun to see my weird side.”

“That is truly terrifying.”

“I know. I get that a lot.”

CHAPTER 28

MACE CLOSED the door behind her and sat across from him. “Thanks for repping me last night with old Abe.”

“Just wait until you get my bill.” He held up the book. “Diane Tolliver sent this to me in the office mail.”

“Okay?”

“Like very recently. But she had no reason to. It’s an old textbook.”

“Put it down. Now!”

He quickly set the book on his desk.

“Who else has pawed it, other than you?” she said severely.

“At least one other, the mail room guy.”

“Great.”

“He didn’t know any better.”

“But you should have known better.”

“Okay, maybe I should have. But I didn’t. So now what?”

“You got a hanky?”

“No, but I do have some tissues.”

He handed some over. Mace used one to open the book slowly. “I glanced through a couple of pages, didn’t see any cryptic writing. But we could pour lemon juice on it and see if the invisible ink is revealed.”

“Or we could just do this.” She held the book by the spine and swung it back and forth, the pages flapping open.

A small key fell out and landed on the desk.

“Don’t!” Mace cautioned as Roy reached for it.

Using the tissue, she picked up the key by its ridged end.

Mace said, “Not a safety deposit box key, maybe a post office box.”

“That narrows it down to a few hundred million. And we don’t even know if this key came from her.”

“She ever mention a post office box?”

Roy shook his head. “No.”

Mace stared down at the key with such intensity that it seemed that she expected the bit of metal to suddenly confess all its secrets. “And you had no other communication from her?”

Roy started to say no, but then he stopped. He clicked some keys and turned the screen around for her to see. “She sent me an e-mail late on Friday night.”

“Do the police know about this?”

“Yep, because they already questioned me about it today. I told them I didn’t know what it meant.”

Mace read the line. “You sure nothing rings a bell?”

“No, but it’s awkwardly phrased. ‘Focus in on’? Why not just say ‘focus on’?”

“I don’t know. You’re the guy that gets paid by the word. Any viable candidates for ‘A’?”

“Too many. But I didn’t think you were on the police force anymore.”

“There’s no law that says a private citizen can’t investigate a crime.”

“But-”

“Getting back to the key and e-mail, any thoughts?”

“Well, you can’t hold me to anything.”

“Just tell me, Roy.”

“Chester Ackerman. He’s the managing partner of the firm. I spoke with him yesterday. He was really nervous, upset.”

“One of his lawyers got stuck in the fridge, there’s a lot to be upset about.”

“I know, but, and this is just my gut, he seemed scared beyond what the situation would compel, if you know what I mean.”

“Like he was scared for his own skin?”

“And I think he was lying about something too.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Just something.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s from Chicago. Has a family. Brings in tons of business.”

“Okay, so basically you’re telling me you know nothing?”

“I’ve never had a reason to dig much deeper on the guy.”

“So maybe now you do have a reason.”

“You want me to spy on the managing partner?” he said incredulously.

“And anybody else who seems productive.”

“For what is most likely a random killing?”

“Your partner got stuffed in a fridge. Who’s to say it doesn’t have something to do with this place?”

Roy picked up his rubber ball, and shot at the basket. And missed.

“Mechanics are off. Murder closeup sometimes does that.” She perched on the edge of his desk and used the tissue to go through the book page by page. “No mob players on the old client list by chance?”

He shook his head. “We don’t do criminal work here. Just deals.”

“Business clients get into legal trouble all the time.”

“Like I told you before, if it’s litigation, we farm it out.”

“To what firm?”

“Several, on an approved list.”

“We’re not making much progress here.”

“No, we’re not,” Roy agreed.

“How much do you make?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because you haven’t given me an answer. Don’t look all pissed. It’s a legit question.”

“Okay, more than Altman is paying you.”

“How much more?”

“With bonus and profit-share and bennies, nearly double.”

“An entry-level cop on MPD pulls less than fifty thou a year.”

“I never said life was fair. But just so you know, as a CJA I never made close to fifty a year.” He studied her. “So why did you want to know how much I make?”

“Your firm clearly has money, so that’s a motive to kill.”

“Okay. Maybe I can look into some stuff and get back to you. What are you doing tonight?”

“Dinner with big sis. But I’m free after that.”

“What, you never sleep?”

“Not for the last two years.”

She pocketed the key still wrapped in tissue.

Roy looked nervously at her. “I don’t want a withholding evidence charge leveled against me.”

“And I want to find out what the hell is going on around here. I’m like addicted to things that seem to make no sense.”

“But you’re not a cop anymore, Mace.”

“So everybody keeps reminding me,” she said, as she left his office.

CHAPTER 29

MACE SAT on her bike with material evidence from a homicide investigation ripping a black hole in her jacket pocket. She had just committed a felony in a city where her sister was the top enforcer of the law.

“You are an idiot,” she muttered as the Ducati idled at a stoplight. “A moron. A reckless piece of crap that never knows when to say, ‘No, don’t do that!’” She’d promised her sister she would not do exactly what she was doing. Meddling in the case.

But something had happened to her in prison that not even Beth knew about. She’d read an old news article about an FBI agent who’d been convicted of witness tampering, aiding a mob boss, and helping to transport weapons across state lines. He had protested his innocence the entire time, claiming he’d been framed but to no avail. He was tried, convicted, and served his full sentence. On getting out he’d moved to another state, secretly gone undercover, and infiltrated a violent drug ring. He’d collected a mountain of evidence at great personal risk and turned it all over to the Bureau, who’d made the bust. He’d even gone on the stand to testify against the ringleaders. The media had picked up the story and run with it and the public outcry had been immense.

The thinking was, why would a guilty man have done something like that? He must’ve been innocent. There had been a clear miscarriage of justice. The public pressure filtered to the politicians on Capitol Hill, resulting in the Bureau going against its own rules and reinstating the agent despite his being a convicted felon. The man had gone on to head up an FBI office in the Midwest and his career had been full of accolades and achievements.