Milly looked up in approval when Steve came back to the bar. "Hello again, Lieutenant," she greeted. "Would you join me in a drink?"
"I'm sorry, no; I'm still on duty," Steve replied. "I'd like a list of all the girls you have working for you who dress like you."
"I can prepare that easy enough, if you have a notepad and pen," Milly said, setting her drink aside.
"Here." Steve pushed the requested items across the bar. Milly took them, quickly beginning to write out each name.
"So tell me," Milly asked. "Do you like being on the police force?"
"Sometimes," Steve answered.
"Have you ever thought of quitting the force and opening your own private office somewhere?" Milly looked up at him with seductive, dark eyes.
"No, not really." Steve looked back, not taking the bait. "I'd rather be a police officer than a private detective. Not that I have anything against private detectives. One of my closest friends is a P.I. But they're not privileged to be let in on all the intricacies of a case."
"I suppose. If they're clever, though, they could find out anyway," Milly said, returning to her writing.
"The police department discourages that," Steve grunted.
"You mean not even for your friend?" Milly glanced up while continuing to write.
"Not even for my friend," Steve confirmed. "He doesn't get special privileges when I'm on duty just because we like to have fun together when I'm off-duty."
Milly nodded. "You're a dyed-in-the-wool cop, alright." She stuck the pen through the spiral binding and pushed the notepad back to him.
"Thanks. Do you have something against cops?" Steve wondered.
"No," Milly shrugged. "I just think you'd make a perfect private detective. Then again, I'm sure you're an asset to the police force."
"I do my best." Steve looked over the list. "Thanks for this."
"Anytime, Lieutenant. If you ever decide you want to try the private detective thing, look me up. I can probably find a good secretary for you." Milly leaned on the bar and propped herself up.
"I'll remember that," Steve said, unsure what to think as he left to find Sergeant Brice.
Apparently the Sergeant had heard a fair portion of the conversation. As he came over to Steve, his eyes were dancing in amusement.
"Oh, what are you looking at?" Steve grunted.
"Do you still feel like you're in the middle of a detective movie?" Brice wondered.
"Quite frankly, yes," Steve scowled. "Even though that doesn't have anything to do with what I was going to ask you."
"They're working on the list now, Lieutenant," Brice assured him. "They think it might be ready by the time we get back to the station, or soon after."
Steve looked to him in approval. "Good. Let's get going."
"You really want to get out of here," Brice noted as they walked to the doors.
"I want to get back to where things might start making sense again," Steve retorted. "This isn't Mike Hammer! This is real-life!" He stuffed the notepad in his pocket and strode quickly to the door.
Laughing to himself, Brice followed.
xxxx
Even though the list of the caves was ready before morning, there wasn't much that could be done on that angle until it was light. Steve and Brice continued to ponder over the issue, however, and after a sleep that was all too short, they headed for the beaches.
"Lieutenant, he couldn't be staying in one of these caves right by the water all the time," Brice protested. "When the tide comes in, it fills most of them!"
"I know," Steve nodded. "And if we're to take his cryptic statement literally, he meant the caves that are that close. Here's one with poison oak growing around it. Be careful." He stood in the doorway and shined his flashlight inside. "There's no one in here. Coming to think of it, though, he could have even meant a cave that opens at the beach, but goes back deep enough that the water doesn't reach all of it."
"I guess so," Brice mused. "Do we have a record of any of those kind?"
"They're on this list somewhere, but I don't think they're specially marked," Steve grunted.
They moved down the coast, peering into each cave. Finally, as they approached one that had a strange shelf inside it, Steve went in for a better look.
"Anything?" Brice called from the doorway.
"Yeah," Steve called back after a moment. "There's some kind of a metal box up here." He brought it down, noting the tag that read Carla. "Offhand, I'd say Brill must have hid it."
"Is it locked?" Brice wondered.
"It is." Steve tucked it under his arm and came back out of the cave. "Maybe he already gave Carla the key. We'd better go find her and ask."
"Are we going to forget about the idea of Brill hiding in a cave himself?" Brice asked.
"Probably," Steve said. "I doubt he would be where he hid something for Carla to find. But we could finish checking this beach, at least."
That search was unfruitful, so they drove back to the city and located Carla Darling's home address. She wasn't entirely pleased to be awakened so early after a late night in the nightclub, until she saw who was at the door.
"It's you!" she exclaimed in excitement and joy. "Did you find Carson?!"
"I'm sorry, we haven't," Steve said. "But we found something he apparently left for you. May we come in?"
"Of course!" Carla stepped aside, holding open the apartment door. When the two came in, she shut the door after them.
"Miss Darling, did Brill ever give you a key?" Steve began.
"A key?" Carla blinked in surprise. "Yeah, he did, actually. He gave me a card with a key hanging on a ribbon. The card said to never lose the key, because it was the key to his heart and I was the only one who could hold it." She gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Cheesy and all, but adorable, isn't it? I was pretty touched."
Brice smiled a bit.
Steve just nodded. "Do you still have the key?"
"Of course," Carla retorted. "Did you think I'd let it go after something cute like that? It's here on my entertainment center." She reached for a card on top. "Now, what do you want with it?"
"We have a theory that the key might fit this lock." Steve held up the metal box. "It was in a cave near the ocean."
Carla's eyes widened. "Where the mountain meets the sea," she breathed. "But what about the deadly blossom jazz?"
"There was a lot of poison oak growing on the cliff side," Brice put in. "We were only checking areas where poisonous plants grow."
"That's clever. Okay, let's see what Carson left me. And it'd better be instructions on how to find him!" Carla jabbed the key into the lock. As expected, it turned.
The sight inside the old box stunned all of them. "Money," Steve breathed in surprise.
"Lots of money," Brice said.
Carla reached for a bundle held together by a piece of paper. "But . . . where would Carson get all of this bread?" she whispered. "He's sure not rich."
"Could he have stolen it?" Steve wondered. They still didn't know why those men were after him, after all.
"No!" Carla shot back. Then, considering her emphatic reply, she paused and looked down. "Well, unless it was from Butch. . . ."
"Who's Butch?" Steve demanded.
"Carson worked for him, until just recently," Carla said slowly. "He was fired, but he said he was thinking of quitting anyway. He thinks Butch is a bookie."
"He 'thinks'?" Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Butch has a legitimate business," Carla explained. "He runs a grocery store. But Carson figured it was a front for something."
"He must have found out, to have this kind of money," said Steve.
Brice nodded. "Maybe he just didn't want to tell you he'd found out for sure, since that could put you in danger."
"Maybe," Carla said slowly. "But if this is stolen money, even from a crook, I can't keep it, right?"
"Right now we don't even know what it is," Steve said flatly. "But since there's been a homicide at Brill's house, and this seems to have been left for you by Brill, it's evidence. We'll have to keep it for now."
"There was a homicide?!" Carla cried, the money dropping from her hands and into the box. "Who?!"
"We're not sure of that yet, either," Steve sighed. "The woman pretending to be Brill's sister said the dead man wasn't him."
"She might even be the murderer, for all we know," Brice said. "She could have concocted the whole story about her brother to try to get us to look at him as the prime suspect instead of her."
"Do you have any idea who she might be yet?" Carla demanded.
"We looked up the house address and Brill lives there alone," Steve said.
"Well, of course he does!" Carla shot back.
"And two officers asked the neighbors and none of them remember seeing her," Steve continued.
"Two other officers were following her last night, but they lost her," Brice said. "She really doesn't want to be found."
"Oh, that's just great!" Carla scowled, folding her arms.
"I had Milly check off everyone who was on her shift when we were there last night," Steve said. "I looked at all of them to make sure our mystery woman hadn't snuck in again. She hadn't, so that leaves the rest of the list. We're going to be visiting all of them today."
"Good luck," Carla said. "And I want to know the minute you have any leads!"
"Miss Darling . . ." Steve looked at her, hard. "You know we might find out Brill killed that man."
"Then I want to know that, too," Carla retorted.
"We could end up thinking you're helping him hide out somewhere," Steve said.
"I wouldn't do that," Carla insisted. "Not from cops, anyway. From Butch, yeah, I might!"
"Did he come to you wanting help to hide from Butch?" Steve asked, very pointedly.
"No, he didn't," Carla said matter-of-factly, folding her arms.
"Alright." Steve sighed. "For now, we'll believe you. We don't have any evidence to prove otherwise." He turned to head for the door. "We'll be in touch."
"Goodbye, Ma'am," Brice said with a slight smile.
"Goodbye," Carla said slowly.
Out in the hall, Brice looked to Steve questioningly. "Do you really think Carla might be hiding Brill somewhere?"
"Not really," Steve admitted. "Not unless she's a very good actress. Which is a possibility. I'll have someone watch her. For now, let's focus on other ideas. The lab boys should have been able to identify the murder victim by now, for one thing."
A quick call to the police lab proved that to be true. And Steve couldn't say he was that surprised to learn that the man was Bruce "Butch" Walker, who owned a small independent grocery store in the Valley.
"What do you say we join the team that's going out there and see if there really is a bookie joint in the back?" Steve mused.
"I'm all for that," Brice said. "But does this bump Carson Brill up on our suspect list?"
"What do you think?" Steve retorted. "It happened right in front of his house. He had opportunity as well as motive. I'm still suspicious of that mysterious woman too, though. I'm not going to count her out. And if Butch really was mixed up in criminal activities, there's probably a lot of people who would have liked to see him dead."
"So our suspect list has probably grown a mile long," Brice remarked.
"We'll see," Steve said as he climbed into the car.
xxxx
Walker's Grocery was a pleasant locale from both the outside and the inside. The forensic team was already there when Steve and Brice pulled up, as well as a growing crowd of stunned and curious onlookers in the parking lot.
"We always shop here," said one concerned woman. "What's going to happen to this place now?"
"I really don't know, Ma'am," Steve said. "We'll be looking into that."
He also noticed Edith Fallon among the crowd. Deciding she might be helpful, he went over. "Hello, Mrs. Fallon," he greeted.
"Oh, Lieutenant." She smiled. "Are you in charge of this case?"
"Yeah. Tell me, did you shop here too?" Steve took out his notepad and pen.
"Sometimes," she said.
"Did you ever notice anything strange or suspicious?"
Edith paused as she considered the query. "No," she said slowly. "I don't think so . . . wait!" She jerked to attention. "There was one time when something kind of odd happened."
"What was that?"
"It was just the other day. I was at the back of the store in the Dairy section when I heard arguing behind the milk."
"Behind the milk?" Steve quirked an eyebrow.
"Yes. You know how the wall is open back there so they can put the milk out from behind?" Steve nodded. "Well, the stock boy or whoever he was was in the process of doing that. The other person had come there to talk to him, I guess, and they started arguing."
"Could you actually hear what they were saying?" Steve asked.
"Sometimes. I couldn't always because of the freezer. But one thing I heard very clearly was when the other man yelled, 'You've got a lot of nerve, accusing me like that!' And the stock boy said, 'Now it isn't just an accusation. Now I have proof!'"
Steve was writing furiously. "Did you ever hear any names mentioned?"
"No," Edith admitted. "But the other man declared, 'You'll never get the chance to blast your proof anywhere. You're fired!' And the stock boy said, 'I was going to quit anyway.'" He shoved the last milk bottle out and stormed away."
"Did he come out of the back room?"
"I didn't see him. He was probably collecting his belongings first." Edith looked to Steve. "Does any of this help at all?"
"It helps a great deal, Mrs. Fallon," Steve said. "Thank you."
"Lieutenant?"
Steve looked up with a jerk at Brice's call. The Sergeant was standing in the doorway. He didn't need to speak further for Steve to know that something had been found.
"Excuse me," he said to Mrs. Fallon and the crowd. "If any of the rest of you saw or heard anything strange, an officer will be out to take your statements. Otherwise, there's nothing for you to do here. Please go home."
Most of the crowd began to disperse. A few lingered, whether to give statements or just out of stubborn curiosity, Steve was unsure. He would send someone out to them anyway, just in case.
"What is it, Brice?" he asked low when he reached his partner.
"There's a secret panel in the stockroom," Brice reported. "It leads to a small gambling joint."
Steve perked up. "That isn't much of a surprise by this point," he said, "but it's good to know anyway."
"Did Mrs. Fallon have anything interesting to say?" Brice wondered as they walked inside.
"Quite a bit," Steve said. "It backs up Carla Darling's story of what Brill told her. Unfortunately, it doesn't do much for clearing him. But he mentions he has proof of something."
"You don't think that money was really meant to be turned over to the police instead of used as a nest egg for Carla, do you?" Brice pushed aside a cardboard display on soup that was drooping into his path.
"You'd think there would have been a note in that case," Steve said.
"Do we know there wasn't?" Brice replied. "We haven't gone all through the box yet; we just looked at what was on the top."
"It would be strange to put a note at the bottom," Steve said. "Then again, everything about this case is strange. But anyway, the money wouldn't have made very conclusive proof of anything, not unless it was deliberately used for gambling purposes and was marked somehow or the serial numbers taken down. And then taking it away from Walker would defeat the whole purpose. It would need to be found in his possession to hold any weight."
Brice nodded. "Things really aren't making any sense," he said ruefully.
Steve looked around with a sharp eye as they entered the stockroom and from there, traveled to the now-open secret panel. The gambling room was indeed small, but it still managed to host at least one each of some of the most popular games of chance.
"This must have been a fairly lucrative operation," he remarked. "This grocery store's been open for years, hasn't it?"
"I remember it here when I first started working with Lieutenant Tragg," Brice said.
"I wonder if Butch Walker was the one who started it." Steve examined the blackjack table. "The murdered man didn't look that old. Not that it was very easy to tell much of anything about him," he added darkly.
One of the officers opened a door leading into a private office. After a moment he came back out. "There's some interesting stuff in here, Lieutenant," he reported, "including a security tape Walker must have been watching."
"Oh really? I'll come and look in a minute," Steve said. "Hmm, this is also interesting." He pulled out a small photograph that had become wedged under the green cloth of the table.
"What's that?" Brice wondered.
Steve turned it around. "Walker, I suppose, and a woman. It looks like . . ."
He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. The last thing anyone was expecting was for a small panel to open in the back wall and admit a beige-gloved hand holding a revolver. But it happened, and the gun fired, taking a chink out of the edge of the blackjack table.
Immediately the police snapped to attention, diving down and firing back, without success. When all six chambers had been emptied, the shooter did not reload. The panel closed and footsteps could be heard clicking away.
"Get after them!" Steve ordered.
Two officers jumped up and ran to the wall, struggling to figure out how to open it. Steve was about to join them when a hiss of pain called his attention elsewhere. Sergeant Brice was slumped on the floor against the slot machine, clutching his left arm.
"How bad is it?" Steve demanded, dropping to his knees to look.
"It's not bad, Lieutenant," Brice replied, grimacing nevertheless. "You should go with them."
"Oh, it's too late now," Steve said in disgust. The footsteps had faded away and the panel still wasn't open. "It probably only opens from the other side."
Two other officers had run to the door leading into the alley, hoping to catch the shooter there. But they trudged back, shaking their heads. "If they went out that way, they were already gone," Malloy sighed.
"Well, nevermind that now," Steve barked, still examining Brice's arm. He pressed a clean handkerchief against the wound to stop the flow of blood.
"Should I call an ambulance?" Reed asked in concern.
"No," Brice choked out. "I'm alright. I can just be dropped off at the hospital."
"You're lucky; it only grazed you," Steve said. "It could have easy enough hit your heart if they'd aimed just a few inches over." He tied the handkerchief in place and stood by to be ready to help as Brice struggled to his feet. "Reed and Malloy will take you to the hospital. I'm going to examine that private office and then find those other girls that work at the nightclub. I'll also talk to Carla Darling again." His tone had darkened again. "I'm going to see to it that this case is wrapped up today, if at all possible."
Brice looked to him in surprise. "Do you know who the killer is, Lieutenant?"
"Right now, I have a pretty good idea," Steve answered. "And they're going to regret what they've done and what they tried to do."