Marcelo stood at my side. “Should I stop him?”
“You really think I’m the expert on Lei? The only reason why he didn’t shoot me tonight was because of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sorrow decorated Marcelo’s face. “What do you think?”
“It’s a serial killer determined to end the Syndicate. The theatrics of putting them in royalty is to. . .mock them. Perhaps, even flaunt the idea that the Syndicate doesn’t rule shit.”
“Really?”
“I’m just brainstorming. I’m actually lost.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Really lost.”
He got in front of me, blocking the view of the police tape and cops. “Then, the Diamond Syndicate is lost.”
I dropped my hands to the side. “Why?”
“You’re the smartest man in the Syndicate.”
“I’d give you a kiss for the compliment, if I didn’t feel so dead inside.”
He tossed me a sad smile. “I’ll take a rain check on the kiss.”
I scanned the space. “And where is Nefertiti?”
“I put all my people out to search for her.”
“She was loyal to Chanel. If she’s not dead next to her, then she has answers.”
Could Nefertiti have been the killer the whole time? Or is she working with the killer?
Detective Treadway walked up to us, holding his phone. “I may have something.”
My spirits rose. “What?”
“The murderer killed Chanel Jones in an alley two blocks away. Some bum flagged a cop car down.” Treadway showed us his phone. “The cops stopped, took pictures, and sent them to me instantly.”
I peered at the image.
A puddle of blood was near a dumpster. Dots of blood scattered the graffiti brick wall.
I leaned forward. “He stabbed Chanel there. How the hell did he even get Chanel in an alley?”
“Her driver said that she received a message on her phone. Then, she told the driver to stop near the opening and to drive off without her. She claimed she had a ride to the club.”
Marcelo eyed me. “What the fuck? Chanel isn’t that stupid.”
Who would she trust to go into an alley with?
“This is the most intriguing part.” Treadway zoomed the picture in.
I squinted. “Are those numbers?”
“Yes. And you see the lines of blood over here?” He zoomed in more. “The killer had Chanel over the dumpster and was bleeding her out. It looks like she wrote a message with her blood.”
She wrote it to me. She knew I would be looking into her death.
I read the numbers. “037.”
What are you trying to say, Chanel?
The detective put up his phone. “She died after that. Surprisingly, the killer must have not seen the message.”
“The club was filling up,” Marcelo said. “Lots of activity was on the road. He had to be quick.”
Marcelo’s man, Gunner hurried to us. “Boss, I’ve got bad news.”
“What?” Marcelo glared.
“Cameras were out an hour before we opened.”
Marcelo growled. “And security didn’t notice?”
“It was the back camera. It only showed footage from nights ago.”
“So this killer hacked into my fucking cameras?”
“Yes.” Gunner backed up. “I’m going to look into this further.”
“Do that!” Marcelo glared as Gunner rushed off.
“He killed Chanel in the alley and brought her body over here.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “He needed an hour to get her in the cage, dress her up, and leave.”
“Or he stayed,” Treadway moved the phone. “He could have been here the whole time. Most serial killers enjoy the reaction to their work.”
Fuck.
Dread stirred my core. “Send those images to me along with the coroner report.”
Treadway left.
I spotted Lei and his men rushing across the dance floor and heading back to the basement. The door shut behind them. I rubbed my tired eyes. “We’ll need to call Lei’s father and aunts. After Chanel, they’re the only people that can calm him.”
“What about Duck or Chen?”
“As long as I’ve known them, Duck and Chen have simply followed orders. Even when we were kids.”
Shooting sounded from the basement.
“Hopefully, he doesn’t fuck up my whole club.” Marcelo watched Lei and his men return and race toward the kitchen.
“My men will be here to help clean anything up.” I let out a long breath. “Until then, the Syndicate goes into DEFCON mode.”
“All businesses shut down?”
“No drugs, pussy, or weapons are sold in Paradise until this killer is found.”
“Paradise is already full of tension. You sure you want to pause people’s stress relievers?”
“The agitation and sobriety will keep everyone focused and watching.” I thought about the numbers that Chanel left. “Did anything come to you, when you saw the numbers?”
“Nothing.”
“Chanel was telling us something.”
“No.” Marcelo shook his head. “She was telling you something.”
Guilt weighed my shoulders down.
O37.
What was it about the number seven. It kept coming up again and again.. The killer stabbed his victims seven times in the front and back. Chanel had even drew the number seven on the ground with her blood.
I took out my mini book and pen. For a minute, I wrote the number over and over.