16th Seduction (Women's Murder Club 16)

The Wiz nodded at Billy and Sosh but didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge them to the deputy supe. Sosh mumbled something unflattering under his breath, but Billy didn’t really care. Do your job. Keep it simple.

They passed by an office, and Billy stopped briefly and looked in. It was immaculate—a beautiful maple desk with several stacks of papers, neatly organized, on top. But no computer. Kate was in there with a number of uniforms, searching the place high and low, opening every cabinet, leafing through the pages of books on the shelves, pulling back the carpet, everything.

“How we doin’?” Billy called out.

Katie walked up to him. “You know the Wiz is over there taking all the credit for the bust.”

Billy shrugged. “Did you find anything in the office?”

She shook her head. “No records. No computer. The paper shredder’s even empty. There’s a lot of cash, but that’s it.”

Not terribly surprising. Computer records were almost as bad as e-mails and text messages—once created, they could never be truly erased. These guys were pros. They would have records, of course, but only of the pencil-and-paper variety.

“No little black book?” Billy asked.

Katie shook her head. “No little black book. There’s gotta be one. But it’s not here.”

Billy nodded toward the next room. “Let’s go meet the manager.”

They moved one room over, where Crowley was sitting with a woman who didn’t look very happy. She was a nice-looking woman, middle-aged, thin, with bleached blond hair. She was wearing a sharp blue suit.

“Meet Ramona Dillavou,” said Crowley, who looked like he was up past his bedtime, which he probably was. “She’s the manager of this place. Isn’t that right, Ramona?”

“Fuck you,” she said, crossing her arms. “I don’t have to say shit to you.”

“I read her her rights,” said Crowley, rolling his eyes. “I have a feeling she already knew ’em.”

Billy approached the woman. “Where’s your computer?” he asked.

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“I’m gonna find it anyway. Better if you tell me.” Billy removed a small pad of paper from his inside pocket, a pen clipped to it. “I’ll even make a note that you were cooperative. And I’ll draw a smiley face next to it.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

“Then how about your book?”

“Which book is that? My Bible?”

“C’mon.” Katie kicked a leg on the woman’s chair, turning her slightly askew. “Tell us.”

“I don’t have a computer. I don’t have a book.”

“Listen, lady,” Katie said.

“My name’s not Lady. My name’s Ramona. And I’ll call you cop slut.”

Sosh bit his knuckle. Katie was not the right gal to piss off.

“Never mind,” said Ramona. “You probably couldn’t even get a cop to fuck you.”

Billy winced. Sosh squeezed his eyes shut.

“I see your point,” said Katie. “On the other hand …”

Katie slapped the woman hard across the face, knocking her from the chair.

“That was my other hand,” she said.