As she'd been instructed to, Brianne counted off the minutes as she filled the duffel bags. "Eight-o-seven... eight-o-eight. Finally she was finished with her part in the vault.

"I'm locking you both inside the vault. Don't say one word or I'll shoot you, then lock your dead bodies up."

She hoisted the black duffel bags.

"Don't hurt my husband or my baby, "Betsy Buccieri begged. We did what you '

Brianne slammed the heavy metal door on Betsy Buccieri's desperate plea.

She was running late. She walked across the lobby, unlocked the front door with plastic-gloved hands, and went outside. She yanked her President Clinton mask from her sweaty face. She felt like running as fast as she could to her car, but she walked calmly, as if she didn't have a care in the world on this fine spring morning. She was tempted to pull out her six-shooter and put a hole into the big Egg McShit staring down on her. Yeah, she had an attitude, all right.

When she got to the Acura, she checked her watch: Fifty-two seconds past 8:10. And counting. She was late but that was the way it was supposed to be. She smiled.

She didn't call Errol at the Buccieri house where Steve, Tommy and the nanny, Anna, were being held. She didn't tell him she had the money, and she was safely in the Acura.

She was told not to by the Mastermind.

The hostages were supposed to die.

Book One

The Robbery-Murders

Chapter One

There's an old saying that I've learned to believe in my time as a detective: Don't think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm.

The water was certainly lovely and calm that night. My young and irrepressible daughter, Jannie, had Rosie the cat up on her hind legs and she was holding Rosie's front paws in her hands. She and la chatte rouge were dancing as they often do.

"Roses are red, violets are blue,"Jannie sang in a sweet lilting voice. It was a moment and an image I wouldn't forget. Friends, relatives, and neighbors had begun to arrive for the christening party at our house on Fifth Street. I was in a hugely celebratory mood.

Nana Mama had prepared an amazing meal for the special occasion. There was cilantro-marinated shrimp, roasted mussels, fresh ham, Vidalia onions, and summer squashes. The aroma of chicken with garlic, pork ribs, and four kinds of homemade bread filled the air. I'd even made my specialty that night, my contribution, a creamy cheesecake with fresh raspberries on top.

One of Nana's refrigerator notes was posted on the door of the GE. It read. "There is an incredible amount of magic and feistiness in black men that nobody has been able to wipe out. But everybody has tried." -Toni Morrison." I smiled at the magic and feistiness of my eighty-something-year-old grandmother.

This was so good. Jannie, Damon, little Alex and I were greeting everybody on the front porch as they arrived. Alex was in my arms, and he was a very social little baby. He had happy smiles for everyone, even for my partner, John Sampson, who can scare little kids at first, because he's mammoth and scary.