He was being generous with thatwesince they both damn well knew that the theory was all Jules’s.
“Yeah,” Jules agreed. “Way to win friends and influence...I forget who I’m supposed to influence. I want to say enemies, but that feels a tad too hostile.” He looked back down at his phone, using his memo app to make a note. After this was over, he wanted to sit down with both Lennox and Lindsey, too, before she went back south. If the police detective was as friendly as Lindsey claimed, establishing a relationship would be an asset. Assuming this goatfuck of an ‘easy’ case ever ended. “Since we’re heading to the desert, I’ve got Decker and Dave—team two—heading out to Harper’s weekend residence up in Big Bear, do a little sneak and peek to see if he’s up there. If he’s not, they’ll join us in Palm Springs. But if he is, they’ll gently lock him down for Lennox, who I hope will have a boatload of questions for him after digging up a femur or six .”
“Skull would be nice,” Sam said. “Appropriately Shakespearian.”
Jules laughed despite himself. That was a little too Hamlet and tragedy. He was still hoping to avoid the everyone-dies ending.
His phone rang—finally. “Ack, it’s only Robin,” Jules said.
Sam shot him aseriouslylook, and Jules laughed as he answered the call. “Not what I meant, and you know it. Hey, sweetie. You got an update?”
“Oh, I absolutely do,” Robin said. “Am I on speaker?”
“You are,” Jules said.
“So I found an item of interest in Milton Devonshire’s tax records,” Robin reported. “I searched forSantana, and found a substantial bank check—a gift, with taxes paid by Devonshire—for two million dollars made out to, drumroll please, Francis Santana. It was written right around the time that Milt the Junior got out of prison.”
“Twomillion,” Jules said.
“Yup. On the same day, Daddy Devonshire also gifted Milt the Junior a sweet, sweetthreemillion dollars, again, gift taxes paid. All nicely legal and right there in the records.”
“So Wig-Milt squeezed five million out of his father, and gave nearly half of it away,” Sam mused.
“We’re calling him Mick now,” Jules reminded them both.
“He was Milt at the time,” Robin said. “But wait there’s more!”
“Damn, he’s good,” Sam said.
“I heard that, and I appreciate it,” Robin said. “So yeah, I’m digging into the info about these two ginormous bank checks, and what do I find? Images of the cancelled checks. And guess what it says on the memo line for Francis Santana’s two million dollars?”
“Emily Johnson?” Jules said.
“Okay, so maybe you weren’t surprised by that, but I was,” Robin said. “Because Emily’s name doesn’t come up in a global search of the records, I mean, otherwise you’d’ve found her on day one. But then I figured out that the text that appears in images like that isn’t searchable, which would’ve made lifesomuch easier. But, better late than never, it said it right there in the memo line:Custodian for Emily Johnson.”
“Thank you,” Jules said. “This really helps.”
“Wow,” Sam was genuinely surprised by this. “Maybe Wig-Milt—Mick—isn’t as much of a shithead as I’d thought. I’m gonna have to sit with this for a minute.”
“Whoops,” Robin said, “I gotta run. I’m reading Billy his bedtime story tonight and it sounds like he’s finally on the other side of the great toothbrush war. He’s letting me pick the book, which is not his usual MO. I’m going withGo Dog Go.”
“Can’t go wrong withGo Dog Go,” Jules agreed.
“Drive safe,” Robin said. “Keep me posted. And let me know if there’s anything else you need me to do.”
“I will,” Jules said and he cut the connection.
“Ash loves it when Robin reads himGo Dog Go,” Sam said. “He does all the voices.” He laughed a little. “Ash just plain loves Robin.”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “I know.”
Sam was looking at him.
Shit. Jules shook his head. “Still don’t want to talk about that, SpongeBob.”
Sam nodded and they fell into a silence that dragged on and on, as Sam navigated the stop and go traffic, as their phones continued to not ring.
“Maybe I should call Hobbit,” Jules muttered.
