I gave him a look.
Vance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I heard what I said.”
“Can you keep everything calm for a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
“And take Nolan downstairs? But stress that it’s just for an interview.” The prison-style cells tend to make people nervous.
“I’m on it. What do you want me to do with Austin and Bishop?”
“Um… Have Tucker find them a place at Pine Cove. Short-term. We’ll start with a month.”Surely I can solve a murder in a month. “If Stuart has a problem with it, have him call me.”
“Will do.” Vance closed the door as he left.
I took a deep breath and stowed the tequila. Then I picked up my phone. The “favorites” list in my contacts had nine people in it. Six of them were my enforcers. The seventh and eighth were Titus and Jace. Davey was at the top of the list.
I tapped on Titus’s name, and the phone began ringing in my ear. There was only a fifty percent chance that he’d answer, because he thought that if he didn’t, I’d just send him an email.
He was wrong.
The call went to voicemail, and I hung up without leaving a message. If there was anything I hated more than email, it was voice mail.
I called back immediately, which I wouldn’t do if this weren’t an emergency. Titus answered on the second ring. “Two calls in twenty-seven seconds. What’s wrong?”
“And a good evening to you, too.”
He sighed. “Charley, it’s Friday night, and I’m still in my home office. Robyn is making her irritated face at me from the doorway, and—”
“This is not my irritated face. This is my patient face,” Robyn said from across a room I couldn’t see. “But if youwantto see my irritated face…”
“—and my brother is waiting on the other line,” Titus continued. “So please just get to the point.”
“Fine.” If Titus could be considered a representative sample, billionaires never have time for pleasantries. “Vance is working on the formal report, but I wanted to call to give you a heads up.”
“I’m listening.”
But he was also typing. And sipping coffee. And probably approving graphic designs and budgets for various investment properties and office spaces.
I was supposed to know what he did for a living. What the business he’d inherited from his father and vastly expanded—the one that funded most of the Mississippi Valley Pride’s expenses—was, but every time he started talking about it, I zoned out around four words in.
It was allveryboring.
“Two previously unknown strays came into the bar tonight and accused one of our regulars of robbery and murder by infection.”
“Okay.” Another hurried sigh. “I’m sorry you’re having a rough night. Just let me know what you need from me. In anemail, Charley.”
“No, Titus, don’t hang up.” He wasn’t disinterested. He wasn’t callous. He was just very, very busy. And he’d delegated this responsibility to me for a reason. While he wanted to be kept in the loop, he didn’t truly want to be bothered until and unless that became absolutely necessary. And I couldn’t blame him. “The victim was a human woman.”
Titus exhaled, long and slow. The typing stopped. He took another sip of his coffee, then I heard the light thump of him setting the mug down. “Robyn, Knox, may I have the room?” he said, speaking to his wife and one of his enforcers.
Over the line, I heard footsteps and another soft click. “Give me the details,” Titus said.
I told him what I knew about Yvette Graham-Mattheson. About her husband and brother. About Nolan Blake and the blue Chevy truck. About the missing ten thousand dollars.
“But the human police aren’t suspicious? They aren’t…involved?”
“No. Well, no one other than Austin, the brother.”
