Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 03 - Money is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page B

whether Benson’s involved with all of this, remember? If we let him know about it being a woman, he could warn her.”
    A yellow cab pulled to the curb and Sean held the door open.
    Sara slid across the seat. “Where to now?”
    “Back to our condo to find out all we can about Reid.”
    “We should have given Robert back his gun.”
    “There was no way we could have anticipated this.” Sean reached for her hand. “And, even if he did have a weapon, it doesn’t mean he’d be alive now.”
    She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. I knew.”
    “You felt it. There is a difference.”
    “I suppose.”
    “And you’re definitely not the one who pulled the trigger.”
    “You got me there.”
    He detected the faint smile dust her lips. As much as they didn ’t want to sit around and do nothing, maybe some downtime would be nice.
    “What do you say to a vacation after all this is over?”
    It elicited the reaction he thought it might. Sara laughed, her nose wrinkling up.
    His cell rang, interrupting the moment. He held the phone from his head, pointed at it and said, “It’s Jimmy.” Back into the phone. “Oh really? And you’re certain? Yes, I know you better than that. Thank you again. Yes, a big bottle of scotch. Not a cheap brand.”
    Jimmy was becoming quite the extortionist, but Sean was fine with the terms when it netted the type of exchange it just had.
    Sara shifted her position to better face him. “What did he say?”
    “He said that there were large deposits made in both Benson’s bank account and the one belonging to the doorman from Cindy’s building.”
    “Does he know where it came from?”
    “No.”
    “Oh, Sean, how are we supposed to figure this out?”
    “Like we always do—together.” He ran a hand down her hair and smiled at her. “With the two of us, anything is possible. ”

 
     
     

     
    Coffee And Research
     
    SARA TOOK OFF HER HEELS and dropped onto the sofa in the condo. The laptop was in front of her on the table. Sean was reading over the reports again to see if anything stood out.
    She lifted the steaming mug of coffee from the side table, to her mouth. Before taking a sip she inhaled the robust aroma and let her senses drift away. In this moment there wasn ’t another case to solve. Everything was peaceful and tranquil.
    “Don’t slip away on me now.” Sean smiled at her.
    “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She closed her eyes for a second, her momentary indulgence in the experience of “now” coming to an end.
    Her thoughts skipped to what Sean had said in the taxi. Another vacation? Wasn ’t their whole life a vacation at this point? At least, it could be, if they didn’t keep getting involved with investigations—she wasn’t even sure how it kept happening—but on the flipside, there was a real satisfaction in solving the cases.
    They didn ’t answer to a schedule or a boss. They didn’t have to worry about securing warrants or doing things by the book. They were simply free to act. They didn’t need to rely heavily on forensic findings—the direction that law enforcement was headed. No, they were able to pursue pure leads and distinguish motive and opportunity—the way it was accomplished before scientific advances.
    She picked up the laptop and continued reading about Reid Incorporated hoping that something would stand out. They made air fresheners for vehicles and homes. Sara figured the reason they would be in poor financial straits was due to the competition in the market with huge everyday names.
    Sara glanced over at Sean, who was leaning back in the sofa chair, one leg crossed over the other with a neatly stacked pile of police reports on the table next to him. He held a bundle, about an inch thick, in his hands. He discarded the top sheet to his lap where another collection of paper was growing.
    “Finding anything?” she asked.
    He looked up at her and shook his head. “Nothing so far.”
    “Okay, let’s talk this out.” She exchanged