Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9)

“Of course,” I said. “We’re just talking here. Speculating. For example, I was speculating that if someone were to be arrested for the cop killing, that would remove the curse, if you will, making the Lily more readily marketable.”


“I’m sure it would, although, the last I heard, the Lily was blown to smithereens.”

“Yeah, I heard the same thing.”

“From the look of you, I’d say you were close to the explosion.”

“Close enough to know what others don’t.”

“What would that be?”

“First I have to ask you a question.”

Cid spread his hands wide again.

“Are you an enterprising man?” I asked.

Cid smiled the way some people do when they hear a foolish question. “I believe I am,” he said.

“I have never doubted it.”

“McKenzie, what are we talking about?”

“I have the Jade Lily. I will sell it to you for one-point-three million.”

Cid laughed at my remark. “That’s ridiculous,” he said.

“The price does seem pretty steep, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“If I were you, I’d laugh, too. Especially if the money was coming out of my own pocket.” Cid’s laughter subsided as he got an inkling of what I meant. “However, if someone else were to pay for it…”

This time I spread my own hands wide.

“What do you mean?” Cid asked.

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that a couple of enterprising thieves—not as enterprising as you, of course—had one-point-three million in illegal funds that they wished to make legal. They would naturally seek out the services of a—what’s the word—facilitator.”

Cid smiled and nodded at the reference.

“This facilitator, in turn, could invest that sum in a more lucrative venture,” I said.

“What you’re suggesting is a serious breach of business ethics,” Cid said. “A man could be driven into bankruptcy or worse, behaving that way.”

“True, if the couple in question were regular customers and if they were connected in some way. They’re not. They’re just a couple of amateurs looking for the big score. Amateurs, I might add, whose conduct in this matter has not only created undue turmoil in the business community, it has compromised the dealings of serious professionals such as yourself. If they were to lose their investment, who would they complain to? The SEC? The Better Business Bureau? In any case, they won’t need the money where they’re going.”

“Where would that be?”

“Prison, for killing a police officer. Or hell, depending on how things are arranged.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“My point is—you could acquire the Jade Lily at no out-of-pocket expense.”

Cid studied me for a moment.

“It doesn’t fit,” he said.

“What doesn’t fit?”

“This offer of yours. It doesn’t fit your profile.”

“I have a profile?”

“You’re a doer of good deeds.”

“You think so?”

“Besides, you don’t need one-point-three million.”

“Everyone needs one-point-three million,” I said. “You’re also forgetting that there’s a principle involved.”

“What principle?”

“The sonsabitches tried to blow me up.” I slapped the tabletop for emphasis, startling Cid, his bodyguard, and Herzog. “Look at me. You think I’m going to let them get away with this?” I clenched the fist of my right hand. “First I take their money. Afterward…” I made a production of unclenching my fist, letting Cid decide what the gesture meant.

Cid grinned at me like he had won a long-odds bet. “Retribution,” he said. “Now that is something I can appreciate.”

“Good.”

“Where is the Lily now?”

“I can deliver it within one hour after you contact me, day or night.”

“I’ll let you know.”

*

Ten minutes later, Herzog and I were in the Jeep Cherokee driving east. Herzog was silent, but I could sense there was something on his mind.

“What?” I said.

“How’d you know Cid was launderin’ the money for ’em?” he asked. “There’s plenty of others coulda done it.”

“Educated guess. When we spoke the first time, Cid said he never met Tarpley; they didn’t travel in the same circles, he said. Yet he knew what Tarpley’s wife looked like.”

“He was lyin’, then, ’bout knowin’ Tarpley.”

“Not necessarily. Cid could have met his wife without Tarpley being there.”

”How, unless—yeah, okay, I get it. The wife, she was the one that hadda set it up. The meeting, I mean. She met Cid way ahead of time, met ’im before ’er and Dennis coulda brought the money to ’im for launderin’, before they even heisted the Lily. Wait. No, ’at don’ make no sense. Does it?”

“How should I know? I’m suffering from a concussion.”

“How she know to meet wit’ Cid, girl like that? You ain’t gonna find ’is number in no phone book.”

“Tarpley was a chess player. He would have had all of his moves worked out far in advance, including this one.”

“I gits it. He was the man wit’ the plan. She—she was the one took the plan and made it work. Jus’ follow the instructions.”

Herzog’s typically churlish expression became bright and cheerful.

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