Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

have expensive tastes. They don’t have any obvious connection to the ex-military old-boy club either.”
    “Unlike Kirby,” Kate said, flipping through a file, “who had fourbookies and two ex-wives. Or like White who bought more cocaine than he earned changing tires for a repair shop. Kirby and White had plenty of ex-military contacts but didn’t have the connections to get courier information on their own. They could have just followed guys coming out of jewelry stores, I suppose.”
    “That’s what the South American gangs do,” Sam said, “which leads to a grab bag of items. Everything from watches to wedding bands. But the Teflon gang only does the high-end, anonymous stuff, or stuff that can be made anonymous by reworking. They have an inside track to the trade. So if it’s not Sizemore, who is it?” Sam smacked his hand down next to the computer in frustration. “I’m missing something.”
    “Then so am I, unless the professional accountants can get more out of this than we have.”
    “We’re still waiting for warrants on Sonny, Sharon, Jason, and Ms. Tibble’s private accounts. Those forensic accountants are good. If it’s there, they’ll find it.”
    “What about Sizemore?” Kate asked.
    “He waived his rights. He’s working with the Bureau accountant.”
    “Which means he isn’t guilty or he’s real sure he’s buried the evidence where no one can get to it.”
    “That takes the kind of arrogance I didn’t see in him earlier.”
    “Yeah.” Kate rubbed her eyes, trying to remove the picture of a shattered, weeping Sizemore. It didn’t work, any more than rubbing her eyes wiped out the memories of last night’s blood and fear. “Even though you fixed the alarms around here, and everything’s been cleaned up, I’m not real eager to go back into my bedroom and try to sleep. Knowing how fast Kirby got in…” She shrugged. “It just doesn’t make me feel sleepy.”
    “Kirby was a pro. Most mutts aren’t nearly that good.”
    “I suppose that’s meant to be comforting. All I have to do is not think about the fact that your Teflon gang is made up of pros who are better than most mutts.”
    Sam acknowledged that with a wry twist of his mouth. “Thereare two agents parked out front, two in the garage, and four more patrolling nearby streets. Even if someone wanted to pull the same trick twice, it won’t happen.”
    “My mind knows that. The rest of me isn’t buying it.” She put her hands in her pockets and moved restlessly around the workroom. Her jeans made a rubbing noise with each step. “I think I’ll make some coffee.”
    “Now who’s the one drinking too much caffeine?”
    “You’re a good influence,” she said, heading for the kitchen.
    Sam’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number and answered fast.
    “Hello, Doug. What do you have?”
    “Tex White.”
    Thank you, God. “Did he lawyer up?”
    “Sure did. Then he traded information for taking the death penalty off the table.”
    “Death penalty? For what?” Sam asked.
    “The murder-for-hire of Eduardo Pedro Selva de los Santos.”
    Sam whistled. “You sure?”
    “Peyton Hall is. He made the ID on some of the stuff we found in White’s apartment. There were blood traces on some shoes in the closet. Cocaine makes you think you’re invincible, which makes you careless.”
    “Stupid.”
    “That too. The bloody shoes are when the bust went from possession of cocaine to murder one. White doesn’t want the death penalty and we’d already connected him with Kirby, so we clubbed him with the murder-for-hire angle.”
    “So Kirby was the boss?”
    “Looks like it,” Doug said. “Funny thing, though. The agents searching Kirby’s hotel room in Scottsdale found a digital phone.”
    “Digital? No chance of eavesdropping then.”
    “We all should be able to afford digital,” Doug said.
    “Try convincing the budget office.”
    “I have. Anyway, the intriguing thing is that Kirby had a record feature on his phone. Like voice mail, only he could activate it by punching the pound key at any time during a conversation.”
    “Anything of interest recorded?”
    “Oh, yeah. Seems like Kirby wasn’t always the boss. At least once that we know of, he took orders from someone who used a mechanical distorter.”
    “Kate’s death threat,” Sam said instantly.
    “Looks like it. Only this time, the weird voice wanted two other people dead in addition to Kate.”
    “Two? José and