Free Beating the Babushka by Tim Maleeny Page B

focused on Marik.
    Reaching into his coat pocket, the Major took a white envelope and tossed in onto the table. Marik almost grabbed it in mid-air but managed to restrain himself, though he tore it open immediately and riffled the bills with a hungry look that matched the Major’s from a moment before.
    “There is more,” said the Major.
    That got Marik’s attention. He jammed the bills into his jacket pocket. “Another delivery?”
    The Major shook his head. “I want you to get dirty.”
    Marik smiled nervously and glanced at the rifle. “I can’t shoot that thing.”
    “Leave that to me,” said the Major. “This job, it is nothing.” He reached into his coat and produced another envelope, this one fatter than the first.
    Marik licked his lips. “What do you want me to do?” Behind him, Ursa’s face twisted into a malicious grin. The Major returned the smiled but kept his eyes on Marik.
    “I want you to go for a drive,” he said.

Chapter Sixteen
    When in doubt, bribe the guy in uniform.
    Golden Gateway Apartments consisted of four white towers crowding the skyline behind the Ferry Building. As with most destinations in San Francisco, there was no parking except for the street, and all the meters were taken, so Cape spent the next five minutes trying to convince the doorman to let him park behind the police cruiser. It took ten dollars to settle the discussion, a bargain compared with the pay lot five blocks away.
    Grace was waiting in the lobby of the north tower wearing a black T-shirt and jeans over leather boots. A simple silver chain hung around her neck, and her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore lipstick but no other makeup, as far as Cape could tell. She smiled when she saw him, but her expression was pure anxiety.
    “I got your message,” she said. “What’s going on?”
    “Are you staying here?” Cape asked, ignoring her question.
    “Yes. The studio put me, Tom, and most of the senior production team here—maybe twelve of us in all. The director, cinematographer, assistant director, and most of the cast are staying at the W Hotel, and the rest of the crew at the Hyatt a few blocks away.”
    Cape nodded and led her toward a bank of elevators. The nearest door stood open, the arrow glowing in anticipation of the next passengers. A happy chime sounded when Cape pushed the button for the eighteenth floor, the number Beau had given him.
    “What floor you staying on?”
    “Sixteen, but I’m in the west tower.” She turned to force eye contact, which Cape had studiously been avoiding. “What’s going on?”
    Cape said it plainly, watching for a reaction. “There’s a chance Tom was involved in drugs.” He didn’t have to watch very carefully.
    “Bullshit!” Grace flung her hands out from her sides. “You think that wouldn’t be obvious during a shoot?”
    Cape held up a hand. “I didn’t say using.”
    Grace was incredulous. “You’re suggesting he was dealing drugs?”
    The elevator stopped. Cape noticed they’d only made it to the fifteenth floor. The towers were over thirty years old, their age showing once you stepped beyond the newly renovated lobby. Cape glanced at the elevator’s inspection certificate and saw it was expired. A short woman with blue-white hair and a cane stepped between them and smiled, reaching out slowly to push the button for sixteen. Everyone smiled but said nothing during the faltering ascent to the next floor. After the doors closed again, Cape put a hand on Grace’s arm.
    “Look, you hired me to find out why someone might have killed Tom. Now we’re about to walk into a crime scene. There will be cops there, including some I don’t know. They’re going to ask you questions—that’s what cops do. We can turn around and leave if you want, but I thought you’d want to see for yourself.”
    Grace breathed through her nose, a smoldering anger still visible in her eyes.
    “Now is not the time to protest Tom’s innocence,” said