believe you,” Ian said. “I think you keep lots of cash in your office.”
Clark’s smile grew frosty, and I kicked Ian under the table.
“Ow!” he said, turning to me. “What’d you do that for?”
“Ignore Ian,” I told Clark. “He’s been watching too many Mafia movies.”
Clark laughed politely, and I frowned at Ian, trying to get the message across. The man might be the biggest money launderer in Vegas, for all I knew, but I needed his help.
Voices drifted over to us. The office was starting to fill with employees, and Clark used this chance to stand up. “It was a pleasure chatting with you,” he said, and Ian and I followed his lead and stood up.
We followed him out into the open-space area and turned right into a tiny kitchenette with a shiny plastic table, surrounded by cheap plastic chairs. There was a pod coffee machine on one end of the counter, a microwave, a big plastic water cooler and a small fridge. It reminded me a little of a smaller version of the employees’ break room at the Treasury.
“This is Greg, Jay, Chris and Kareena,” Clark said. “I sent you guys an email – Tiffany here’s looking into Adam’s death and that’s her partner, Ian.”
Clark left us and went back to work, and Ian and I chatted with them about Adam. There wasn’t much they could tell us – Adam was friendly, they said, but it’s not like they were really close. He seemed nice enough and had no enemies, as far as they knew. His closest friend here seemed to be Sharon, the accountant Clark had mentioned to us. They didn’t know much about his personal life, other than the fact that he had a girlfriend. She was an interior designer, Kareena offered, but she hardly came to the Verdant Wealth office parties. None of them had ever seen her.
I excused Ian and myself for a minute. We headed out to the parking lot and stood in a quiet corner to discuss our “strategy.” The lot was becoming busier, mostly filling with late-model Toyotas, Fords and Volvos, and employees were entering the building in twos and threes, chatting with each other or exchanging polite nods. These were all the people who’d left home in time, shaved and packed their lunch, and driven at a reasonable pace along the freeway. A little later, it would be the laggards who arrived – the ones who’d nicked themselves shaving, or taken a little too long at the gym, or kept pressing snooze until the very last minute.
I turned to Ian, who was ogling a pretty woman in a business suit, and said, “You know, I think I don’t mind working with you.”
Ian beamed and said, “See. I told you watching all those episodes of CSI would come in handy. But you should’ve let me ask Clark about the money laundering. I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s doing, and he keeps lots of cash in here. Why else would he have those fancy alarms installed?”
I looked at Ian doubtfully. “I don’t want to piss him off.”
“But what if his company’s like that firm in the movie? You know, the one where all these lawyers were working for the Mafia and then they killed whoever tried to leave? Maybe Clark killed Adam. Maybe Adam found out what was going on and he was about to blab to the Feds.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t add up. If they really were working for the mob or something, they’d pay Adam more to keep quiet, not pay him less.”
“Maybe they were threatening him.” Ian smiled, his eyes full of visions of a world where the Mob ruled all, and even innocent-looking financial advisory firms were just fronts for them. “It’s just like in The Godfather ,” he breathed.
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it. And if they really are working for the Mob, I can find out.”
“How?” Ian asked eagerly. “Do you know people? Could you get a hit out on someone if you want?”
“Of course not. Nanna knows a guy who’s a retired enforcer.”
“That’s so cool!”
“No. It’s not cool, it’s criminal. And you’re not to say
Clark’s smile grew frosty, and I kicked Ian under the table.
“Ow!” he said, turning to me. “What’d you do that for?”
“Ignore Ian,” I told Clark. “He’s been watching too many Mafia movies.”
Clark laughed politely, and I frowned at Ian, trying to get the message across. The man might be the biggest money launderer in Vegas, for all I knew, but I needed his help.
Voices drifted over to us. The office was starting to fill with employees, and Clark used this chance to stand up. “It was a pleasure chatting with you,” he said, and Ian and I followed his lead and stood up.
We followed him out into the open-space area and turned right into a tiny kitchenette with a shiny plastic table, surrounded by cheap plastic chairs. There was a pod coffee machine on one end of the counter, a microwave, a big plastic water cooler and a small fridge. It reminded me a little of a smaller version of the employees’ break room at the Treasury.
“This is Greg, Jay, Chris and Kareena,” Clark said. “I sent you guys an email – Tiffany here’s looking into Adam’s death and that’s her partner, Ian.”
Clark left us and went back to work, and Ian and I chatted with them about Adam. There wasn’t much they could tell us – Adam was friendly, they said, but it’s not like they were really close. He seemed nice enough and had no enemies, as far as they knew. His closest friend here seemed to be Sharon, the accountant Clark had mentioned to us. They didn’t know much about his personal life, other than the fact that he had a girlfriend. She was an interior designer, Kareena offered, but she hardly came to the Verdant Wealth office parties. None of them had ever seen her.
I excused Ian and myself for a minute. We headed out to the parking lot and stood in a quiet corner to discuss our “strategy.” The lot was becoming busier, mostly filling with late-model Toyotas, Fords and Volvos, and employees were entering the building in twos and threes, chatting with each other or exchanging polite nods. These were all the people who’d left home in time, shaved and packed their lunch, and driven at a reasonable pace along the freeway. A little later, it would be the laggards who arrived – the ones who’d nicked themselves shaving, or taken a little too long at the gym, or kept pressing snooze until the very last minute.
I turned to Ian, who was ogling a pretty woman in a business suit, and said, “You know, I think I don’t mind working with you.”
Ian beamed and said, “See. I told you watching all those episodes of CSI would come in handy. But you should’ve let me ask Clark about the money laundering. I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s doing, and he keeps lots of cash in here. Why else would he have those fancy alarms installed?”
I looked at Ian doubtfully. “I don’t want to piss him off.”
“But what if his company’s like that firm in the movie? You know, the one where all these lawyers were working for the Mafia and then they killed whoever tried to leave? Maybe Clark killed Adam. Maybe Adam found out what was going on and he was about to blab to the Feds.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t add up. If they really were working for the mob or something, they’d pay Adam more to keep quiet, not pay him less.”
“Maybe they were threatening him.” Ian smiled, his eyes full of visions of a world where the Mob ruled all, and even innocent-looking financial advisory firms were just fronts for them. “It’s just like in The Godfather ,” he breathed.
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it. And if they really are working for the Mob, I can find out.”
“How?” Ian asked eagerly. “Do you know people? Could you get a hit out on someone if you want?”
“Of course not. Nanna knows a guy who’s a retired enforcer.”
“That’s so cool!”
“No. It’s not cool, it’s criminal. And you’re not to say
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