Page 72 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

The twelve-year-old sighs like an old film noir detective. “You know how it is. Just like Rodney O’Malley says.” She makes ominous fist-in-palm motions.

“I’m not sureeverything Rodney O’Malley says is true.”

“And you know so much about the Chicago penal system?” Marlowe says impatiently. “That’s what I thought. So what’d you find in the house? I can tell you found something or you wouldn’t be so weird and shifty.”

I heave a defeated sigh and walk to the bathroom, where I wave Marlowe over and open the door. From the doorway, we take in the scene.

$11,500 in cash,mostlyin the tub. Also in the tub are three dogs, piled on top of each other and contentedly wallowing in the money.

“Whoa,” she says. “That’s a lot of bribe.”

“Yeah,” I say.

She picks a bill up off the floor and studies it. “You think I could keep this hundo? Claudia would have wanted me to have it.”

“No,” I say firmly, plucking it out of her hand, spinning her around, and pushing her toward my front door. “Claudia would have wanted you to besafe, which is why we are not keepinganyof this money.”

“Not nearby, anyway. This is screaming for an offshore account.”

“Marlowe.We’re turning it in to the police.”

“Kidding, obviously. About the offshore account, anyway—but you can’t hand over the cash.” She paces back and forth in front of the front door. “Bro. What we have here isleverage. Rodney O’Malley talks about this in his videoUse What You Got.”

“Please tell me this is PG.”

Marlowe ignores me. “The money implicates Tond. Now we need to shake him down for the straight dope by dangling all this cabbage in front of his greedy little peepers.”

I bite a hangnail nervously. “Do you think you’re watching too many of those videos?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She’s not wrong, of course. Marlowe is always right. The money clearly ties Benny to Tond, and if I’m going to go to the cops with this, I need evidence. But “we” are not doing anything. I can’t forget how scared I was when I thought I’d put her in danger. I won’t risk that again. So I play dumb and hope I look convincing.

“I don’t know what to do, Marlowe. I’ve never seen this much money in one place in my life,” I say. “But I do know that right now it’s safe in the tub, and more importantly, I need to take these poodles for a walk before they leave me another aromatic present on my floor.”

The dogs clearly know what I’m talking about—they’re out of the tub and swarming us within seconds. I silently thank them for their unholy pooping habits and, apparently, telepathy. “See?” I say. “They’ve got needs.”

She reluctantly concedes, shooting me a salty glance as she leaves and heads down the stairs.

“And stop tracking my phone!” I call down to her from my doorway.

“I can’t hear you,” her voice floats up the stairwell. “I’m already too far away.”

This kid is either going to be president or a master criminal, and it’s unclear which one at this point.

Though I supposebothisn’t off the table, either.

I shut the door behind her as the excited dogs bring me their leashes and I reach down to peel a hundred-dollar bill off Jean’s butt.

I need to hide the tub money where Tond will never find it. And then I need to go back to that house, threaten Tond with what Iknow, and get him to confess to the murders of Cran and Claudia. Oh, and I also need to record that confession. And then get out of his house alive.

Noooo problem.

“Come on, guys,” I say. “Let’s go shake down a murderer.”

Where would Tond not expect the missing money to be? The one place itshould have been—Claudia’s house! The four of us head over and try her front door, but of course it’s locked now. All the windows are shut, and when we circle the block into the alley, and through the yard to try the back door, we find it locked too. I think about watching the lockpicking video, but I obviously don’t have time for a six-week course, and there is no way I’m involving Marlowe.

I didn’t really notice before, but Claudia’s got a real mullet situation here with her yard—the front is perfectly manicured, but aside from a cleared path to the alley, the back is a dense tangle of brush that she’s let go wild. The dogs, of course, are loving it.