33
Cash pulled the rental car into the drop-off zone for the Battery Club and turned to Colcord. “You coming in?”
He gave a sigh. “What’s your plan? This joint looks pretty uptight.”
“Trust me, Colcord. I’ll get in.”
“Someone better stay with the car,” he said with a weak smile. “Otherwise, we’ll get towed.”
“Good point.” She got out, leaned in the open window. “Back in five.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
As she strode up to the glass doors, Cash was thankful she was in uniform. The club was open for the holiday and busy. Taking out her badge, she passed through the heavy doors and went up to reception, laying it on the counter. “Happy Fourth,” she said to the man behind the glass.
“And to you too, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
She fished in her pocket and removed the key. “Is this one of yours?”
He looked at it. “Sure is. Gym locker. Someone lose it?”
“No. It belonged to one of your members. Javier Castillo. You know him?”
“Not offhand.”
“He was just murdered in Colorado. I’m a special agent with the Colorado Bureau of Investigation in charge of the homicide case, and I’d like to take a quick look into his locker. No warrant—just hoping for voluntary cooperation.”
The young man looked troubled. “I’ll have to take this to management. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be obstructive, but I’m pretty sure they’ll say you’ll need to get a warrant.”
Cash gave him a relaxed smile. “A warrant’s only necessary if access isn’t voluntarily granted. You, sir, actually have the legal power to let me in. Five minutes is all I need.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you in without a warrant.”
“Did you see the video?”
“Video?”
“The guy who was dismembered and tossed into a mountain lake in Colorado? All those body parts floating up to the surface, that kid screaming?”
She saw recognition dawning on the man’s face.
“That’s the murder I’m investigating. Javi Castillo. You didn’t know he was a member of your club?”
A chill silence greeted this news.
“Getting a warrant, just so you know, might create unwanted publicity.”
“Publicity?”
“A warrant’s a public record, and this is a high-profile murder. A lot of cops will show up, and some reporter will inevitably get wind of it. Think about it: The murder and dismemberment of a member of one of San Francisco’s most exclusive clubs, body parts floating in a lake, video gone viral around the world—hell yeah, we’re talking big-time publicity. The last thing the Battery Club would want to do is insist on a warrant, trust me. Now, if you’ll direct me to the gym, I’ll be in and out in five.”
After a long pause, the man said, “Basement level; elevator’s down the hall to the left. But, ma’am—it’s in themen’slocker room.”
“No problem. I’ve seen plenty of dicks before.”
Five minutes later, Cash was sliding into the seat next to Colcord. Without a word, she slipped a stoppered glass vial from her pocket and held it out to him in the palm of her hand. He took it and squinted at the tiny brown square half the size of a pinkie nail. “Jesus, Cash, how’d you manage that?”
“Charmed my way in, went down into the men’s locker room, opened the locker, and there it was, tucked into a sock.”
