“Look, you might be the one with cash in your hand,” he said to Ezra, “but this isn’t your crime scene, is it? This smells like amateur hour, and you can’t trust amateurs. They get paranoid, or they feel guilty or do something that makes the cop in charge of the investigation look twice. That’s when they get arrested and start throwing my name around to the Good Cop in the interrogation room. I don’t plan to spend another year in Sweeny, never mind ten in the Castle. Find another cleaner.”
He knew they couldn’t. It wasn’t like Cargill County could provide enough work for two of them. It barely did for one; otherwise Grade would have had his bags packed and his ticket back to LA in hand.
That wasn’t his problem, though.
Ezra grimaced, his lips pulled thin over his teeth, and scowled at Grade. “I don’t know what makes you think you have a choice. You think Harry is going to let you leave without my OK?”
They stared at each other for a moment. Before Grade could make a decision on how to answer that question, Clay interrupted the standoff. He put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder.
“Ezra, back down,” he said, his voice slow and accent thicker than usual. “Grade’s like a rat. You don’t want to make him feel cornered. Let me deal with it.”
Something bleak flickered over Ezra’s expression for a moment. He looked like he wasn’t entirely sure who Clay would pick if he pushed this either. Mostly sure. They’d been friends a long time, there washistorythere, but for what might be the first time, he wasn’t 100 percent. That was a dangerous thought to have in a man like Ezra’s head long-term, but right now it was useful.
He shrugged Clay’s hand off and stepped back.
“Fuck. You know what? Fine. If you want to sweet talk the little shit into doing his job, go right ahead,” Ezra grouched. He pushed the sleeves of his sweater up his forearms, revealing a cheap snake tattoo faded down to blue under the scruff of arm hair, and tossed the money onto the chair Clay had just gotten out of. “I’ll go and lie to our… associate… that it’s all under control, will I?”
Clay scratched his jaw and shrugged. “It’d probably go over better than the truth.”
“Fuck you,” Ezra told him. He stalked over to the stairs, shoved the dead woman’s arm out of the way with the toe of his boot, and started up toward the door. Halfway there, he stopped and looked down at Grade, who turned to watch him go. “Just remember, cleaner, rats get killed. You should know that better than anyone.”
He took the last few steps two at a time and stiff-armed the door open. For a second, he was outlined against the bright hall light, broad shoulders and lean hips all in black, and then he slammed the door shut behind him again.
“It bothers you that he could have gotten blood on his boot, don’t it?” Clay asked, his breath warm and smoky in Grade’s ear. He slid a hand up under Grade’s T-shirt, fingers rough against bare skin. “DNA.”
“In principle,” Grade said. His voice was dry in his throat, sticky, and he had to clear it. Mind on the job, he reminded himself irritably. Or rather the fact that this wasn’t his job. “Not particularly worried if it causes Ezra problems right now.”
Clay snorted and stepped back. “If it causes problems for Ezra,” he said, “it fucks me up too. This sort of shit has a splash zone. Do you care about that?”
It was that sort of question that made it a bad idea to screw around where you worked. Grade tugged his T-shirt down and turned to look at Clay for a second as he took a draw on his cigarette. It burned down to the filter.
“Not enough,” Grade said after a moment’s thought.
Clay grinned crookedly as he exhaled smoke. “You really think honesty is the best policy right now?”
Grade shrugged. “You’re not going to kill me. That would leave you with three bodies to take care of,” he said. “I don’t work for amateurs. And there’s a party upstairs that’s in for a rude surprise if anyone needs an extra bottle of wine. I don’t think there’s time for anything but honesty.”
They both glanced up for a second at the reminder. After a moment, Clay pulled a sour face and flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the floor.
“OK,” he said. “This wasn’t exactly a professional hit, but you aren’t working for the psycho that went to town with a bottle of Cabernet. You work for me and Ezra, and it’s off the books. There’s no reason for our good friend upstairs to even know your name. It’s not like she’s going to send you a thank-you card. Once her mess is cleaned up, she’s not going to want to think about tonight again.”
Itstillfelt like a bad idea, but… Grade glanced at the packet of cash on the chair and bit his lower lip. Clay did have a point. If the amateur didn’t have any contact with him, they couldn’t drop him in it when they inevitably spiraled. The scene was messy, but that’s what Grade’s clients paid him for. If all they needed was a rub around with an antibacterial wipe… well, after the pandemic, everyone had them in the kitchen.
“You’ll make sure your associate doesn’t know I exist?” Grade checked.
“Cross my heart,” Clay drawled as he signed anXover his chest with his index finger. “And when you’re done… I’ll make good on that thing you thought I was calling about tonight.”
Grade let his bag slide off his shoulder. It hit the ground with a thud.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “Right now, I assume you’re supposed to be at the party?”
“I don’t think I’ll be missed,” Clay said. “This is more Ezra’s gig.”
“That’s your problem. I need you up there,” Grade said. He started to unpack the PPE. It rustled as he shook it out absently while trying to think through all the parameters. This wasn’t the first death he’d had to re-stage. It wasn’t even the first time he’d had to clean up a scene with potential witnesses in residence. It was just a challenge to do both at once with no lead-in to do research or plan. “I’m not exactly dressed to rub shoulders with the sort of people who get invited to parties here—”
“Is this because I didn’t ask you to be my date?” Clay asked, wry amusement spread on his voice like butter. “Trust me, you didn’t miss anything.”
Grade rolled his eyes at the jab and pressed on. “So I need you to get their stuff. Car keys, coats, bags. Anything they’d grab if they had to leave the party suddenly.”
