“Let’s talk about this then. I’m in trouble, I know it. I didn’t kill anyone. I’m so sorry I hurt that man, but I didn’t kill him, did I?”
Nikki had been in these conversations so often, she could lip-synch them. So she began. “Are you saying you want some kind of deal?”
“If I told you what Fabian was blackmailing him with, would that be worth something?”
“Do you know what it was?”
“She doesn’t. This is bullshit.”
“Would it help? What if I said I knew where the documents were?”
Heat said to Alicia, “Ms. Delamater, if you have material evidence to lead to an arrest and conviction in this case, I will offer you a deal.”
“What kind?”
“Fuck you both.”
“I will personally speak to the DA about making the most liberal deal possible. I can’t promise you what, but I can promise it will be the best they can do.”
They waited as Alicia, the cast out mistress and political liability, weighed all that. “They were shipping manifests.” She fixed an icy grin on her ex-boyfriend, who rolled his eyes. “Shipping manifests, including names of men, women, and children I realize now must have been slaves, or whatever you’d call them.” Gilbert dismissed her with a loud exhale, but she went on. “There is also accounting of how much was paid per unit. That must mean people.”
“You’re guessing.”
Unfazed by him, no longer under his thumb, Alicia continued. “There was more. Not only manifests but an accounting printout of bank transfers going back over nine years. I spent a whole weekend reading them after you shut me out, Keith.”
“What kinds of transfers were they?” asked Heat.
“They all came out of the big fund generated by moving the units. Units, God, that’s sick. But the payouts were a million here, a half mill there—millions and millions over time to accounts with weird names. Let me think. Most of the payments went to one called Framers Foremost.”
“Alicia,” snapped Gilbert.
“Framers Foremost?” said Rook. “That’s a super PAC named after the framers of the Constitution. They’re a clearinghouse that bankrolls political candidates.” He turned to Gilbert. “So that’s it. You were using your ships for human trafficking so you could generate income off the books to launder into a political war chest. Brilliant!”
And then Rook realized what he had said. “I mean, in a completely evil-genius sort of way. Ah…Heat?”
“Is that why you were doing all this, Mr. Gilbert? To skirt election laws to launder your campaign funds as soft money to PACs?”
“Enjoy yourselves. This is all talk.”
“No, I have the documents,” said Alicia. “I noticed some things had been moved in my garage and found a manila envelope hidden under my golf bag a few days after the shooting—after you told me you’d handle everything. I kept it, in case someday one of the things you decided to handle was me. Same reason I kept the gun instead of throwing it in the ocean like I told you I did.”
Gilbert scoffed. “You’re bullshitting. If you even do have any documents—”
“Oh, I do,” said Alicia to Heat. “In a friend’s safe-deposit in Sag Harbor.”
“Doesn’t matter. Doctored papers with no verification? Illegally obtained? By fucking lowlife, Third World scavengers? My lawyers would suppress without breaking a sweat. You’ve shown nothing here linking me to any of this.”
Nikki flopped back in her chair and searched the faces of her squad. “He’s right. I hate to say it, but he’s right.”
“About fucking time.” Gilbert rose to leave.
“So there’s only one thing left to do.” Heat nodded, and Detective Raley bent over the video controls.
“Can I say it?” asked Rook.
Raley said, “You got it.”
Rook stood up. “Cue the zombies.”