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“What’s wrong?”
“I want to figure out why Frank Richardson was killed. And I had to bite my tongue so I didn’t interro
gate Father Francis.”
“Was that why you were acting so weird? I was starting to think you were getting cold feet again.”
“You’re assuming I ever warmed them up.”
“Taylor—”
“I’m kidding. Stop already. No, I’m thinking about Frank, and Burt Mars, and I can’t help myself, honey, I need to go over these files.”
Baldwin sighed good-naturedly. “What can I do to help?”
Two hours later, Taylor felt confident she knew what was going on.
“Burt Mars was a very bad boy.”
Baldwin was stretched out on the couch in the living room. Taylor sat on the floor, the printed papers from the Te
ing. A great plan that hadn’t anticipated a late night combing files.
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Baldwin played with her hair, then rubbed her shoul
ders. “Will it wait?”
She sat back, out of his reach. “I think you might want to hear this. Mars is a bad dude. He left Nashville in the late eighties, right about the time Daddy got sent to Brushy Mountain for that stint for trying to bribe Judge Galloway. He was an accountant here, moved to Manhattan, put out a shingle and started to take clients. A few years later he’d gone down on a racketeering charge. A year after that, they got him on a separate RICO charge, convicted him of racketeering since it was the second charge within a tenyear period. This time they sent him to the federal peni
tentiary. He served six years of a fifteen-year sentence, got out early for testifying against a man named Horace Macon. Macon was a low-level crime boss working for a guy named Tony Tartulo. The trial was the first step in the fall of the Tartulo syndicate. So now Mr. Mars has himself wrapped up in the Mafia. He gets out of prison, and within six months he’s ru
“Real estate investment trusts. Seems like a conflict of interest.”
“You think? Here’s what so damn interesting. Horace Macon was just a soldier in Tartulo’s organization. But Tartulo was sworn enemies with another boss, Edward Delglisi. Delglisi is in charge of a huge crime syndicate. My bet is he brought Mars in. Testifying against Macon must have been a setup to take down Tartulo. Mars does the dirty work for Delglisi.”
“Let me get this straight. Mars used to be your dad’s accountant. He’s moved to New York and gotten involved 14
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with the Mafia, specifically Edward Delglisi. He was planted in a rival organization and ultimately testified against Horace Macon, effectively ending the Tartulo crime syndicate. Edward Delglisi steps into Tartulo’s place and becomes a very powerful crime boss.”
“That’s the nutshell version, yes.”
“What kind of hold does Delglisi have on Mars?”
“Good question. And the other question is does Mars know Snow White? Martin Kimball said Snow White’s note came from Mars’s printer.”
Baldwin fingered the notes. “I’d like to know the answer to that.”
“Me, too. There’s more. It’s unbelievable all the in
formation Frank discovered. Mars’s business is a real estate investment trust, right? The REIT manages to reduce the taxes that the individual corporations have to pay on these properties, lets them buy under the corpo
rate name, and their holdings are vast. Frank dug up some of the property listings in the REIT. They own ev
erything from apartment building to houses to corporate strip malls. And guess where they have material assets and properties?”
“Nashville.”
“Give that man a prize. To be even more specific, that place where the Snow White copycat hit yesterday after
noon? One of fifteen small, low-income houses that are listed on the rolls. If we were to raid all those properties, I’ll bet you fifty bucks that more than one operates as a massage parlor.
“This is definitely why Frank Richardson was killed, Baldwin. I don’t think this is directly related to the Snow White murders. I think he uncovered the sideline for Burt 238
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Mars’s little company. Oh, why didn’t he just call me? I could have taken care of him.”
“You have all the addresses of the properties they hold in the REIT?”
“It’s right here.” She waved a sheath of papers at him.
“I think we need to find Burt Mars.”
The phone rang in the kitchen. They both looked at their watches. It was past midnight, late for a call that didn’t mean someone was dead. Taylor got up and went to the handset, saw the number was Lincoln’s cell phone. She answered it, voice grave.
Lincoln was nearly jovial. “Great, you’re up. I have some good news for you. Want to hear it?”
“You know I do. You found Jane Macias alive and kicking?”
“Okay, not quite that good. Ballistics came back on the bullets that were used in the hospital shooting. Octagonal polygonal rifling characteristics, fragments of what looks like a .41 caliber bullet. Forensics says the gun was a Desert Eagle Jericho.”
“A Jericho, not the Baby Eagle? They’re kind of rare around these parts.”
“Yeah. Only made them for a year before they were replaced by the Baby. Here’s the good news. Frank Rich
ardson was definitely killed with the same gun.”
Her gut was right. The tension came flooding back.
“Someone was trying to shut him up.”
“Looks that way.”
“I think I may know who’s responsible, peripherally at least.”
“Who?”
“Burt Mars.”
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“Wait a minute. Isn’t he the accountant whose printer was used in the original Snow White case?”
“Good memory. Yep, he’s the one.” She ran through the information with him, then got off the phone, turned back to Baldwin.
“I cry uncle. This is going to take more work than you or I can handle tonight. I think it’s time to pack it in.”
She went to the couch and sat, patting the seat next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He obliged, took her hand in his, fiddled with her engagement ring.
“I love this stone,” he said, smiling.
“I love it, too. And I can’t wait to add that band of platinum to it tomorrow. But I don’t know how much more I can take, Baldwin. I feel like I’m abandoning everyone, right in the middle of the biggest case we’ve had in years. How can I do that?”
She stood abruptly, unable to sit still. She paced the living room, watching Baldwin watch her steps.
“Honey, there’s only so much you can do.”
“But this one is personal, Baldwin. There’s just some
thing here, I can feel it in my bones.” She stopped in front of the fireplace, fiddled with a piece of pine garland they’d put up in a meager attempt to dress the house for Christ
mas. There was no sense getting a tree since they would spend the holiday in Italy. At least, that had been the plan until her world blew up.
“Baldwin, I’m afraid of what we’re going to find. I’m afraid all of these incidents track back to something bigger. I’ve got a very bad feeling about all of this. My memories, Burt Mars, Frank being shot, everything is pointing in a direction I don’t want to go. My instincts are on fire. I’m afraid that this involves my father.”
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It was Baldwin’s turn to pace. “So what do you sug
gest?”
Taylor bit her lip. “I think, maybe, we should wait about the honeymoon. Postpone Italy just until we get this resolved.”