He reached inside, pulled out an envelope. IMPORTANT! it blared in red marker. PLEASE RUSH TO FLORIDA POLICE INVESTIGATORS.
“The bank folks didn’t know what to do, so it came to us at eight this morning. Inside, we found this …” Roy did a drum roll with his tongue and produced a small silver rectangle. “Look what I have,” he said, the Jack O’Lantern face ablaze with delight.
“Seems to be a computer,” I said.
“Not just any computer, Carson. A computer belonging to Amili Zelaya, the dead woman in the Paraíso and the operation’s accountant, as it seems. We’ve been reading snatches of information. It seems the late Ms Zelaya was a detail fanatic.”
“Is Kazankis named?” I said, holding my breath.
Degan spoke. “Named every time he receives a payment. He’s cooked.”
I stared at Degan, unsure how to respond, joy at knowing Kazankis was nailed, or amazement at hearing Degan speak more than four words at a sitting. And not a single grunt between them.
Tatum’s turn. “It also appears, Detective Ryder, that Kazankis used a familiar business model for slavery: rental.”
“What?”
“The trafficked humans, women mainly, weren’t sold, but rented or leased like construction equipment, so much for a week or a month.”
Roy spun the computer my way. “Here’s a typical rental contract, bud. Eight women, all named, rented to the Taste of Heaven Massage Parlor for fifteen hundred dollars per woman per month. There are dozens of contracts with massage parlors, strip joints, whorehouses and pimps. Not to mention a few private homes and back-alley sweatshops.”
“Contracts placing slaves as far away as Atlanta.” Tatum again. “Naming the rentees and the renters.”
I was having trouble keeping it all straight. “Wait … you’re saying we know where every slave is at this moment?”
Roy mimed swinging a lasso. “I already started round-up time. We’ll get these people back. I put Degan in charge of coordinating everything. Ceel’s taking some of Tatum’s casework next week so he can jump in as well. He’s gonna partner with Lonnie.”
Roy’s grin had spread beyond his face, like it was a separate entity. He pointed both hands at me in a magician’s ta-da! moment. “Look at my boy, people. Didn’t I tell you he was amazing?”
Everyone on the crew turned to Gershwin and me. They applauded.
“Truth time, McDermott,” Tatum said. “’Fess up, you white devil.”
“We’ve been rooting for you, buddy,” Roy said. “Every teensy step of the way. We love you to pieces, cupcake.”
I stared, forcing my mouth to shape words. “What about the money, the salary increases?”
“Everybody got bumps last year.”
“Wait … I didn’t waylay anyone’s raises?”
Roy did sheepish. “What happened was, well, a sort of initiation …”
“Initiation, shit,” Tatum said. “It’s a fucking hazing, Ryder. They made me think I’d fallen into Klan central. Plus that bullshit about keeping everyone from a raise.”
Valdez grinned and popped the gum. “I thought it was ’cuz I was female.”
“Sorta,” Tatum said.
“Fuck you, Tatum. And, of course, that I’d pulled cash from wallets.”
“You want to punch McDermott, Ryder?” Canseco said. “We’ll all be glad to hold him.”
I don’t think I could have lifted an arm. It had all been a stunt, a Roy McDermott artificial drama. But seeing the admiration in the eyes of my colleagues and knowing I’d run the same ridiculous gantlet these folks had run … I actually felt good.
“We even kept an eye on you, Ryder,” Degan said. “Just to make sure you stayed safe in the big city. A now-and-then tail.”
“I was sure I saw Canseco. You and Valdez, too, I think.” I hadn’t been losing my mind.
“I even did you a favor,” Tatum said. “Sent you a gift. Actually I sent it to Delmara.”
I thought a few seconds. “Blaine Mullard?”
“He’s my snitch. He heard Delmara was looking for a knife man, but came to me after he got busted. I sent him to Vince, instead.”
I shook my head. Not synchronicity but an invisible helping hand. Though if you looked at it just right …
Degan reached to the floor and produced a bag, sliding it down the table into Gershwin’s lap. “Open it up, you fucking hotdog.”
Gershwin pulled out a shiny new Glock. “It ain’t a real gun, a wheel gun,” Degan said. “But it’s prettier than that beater piece you’re carrying.”