Studying Scarlett the Grey

by Kelle Z Riley

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “It leaves us with a mess. The homeland guys told me about your discovery of the money in the Crown Vic. Apparently, it’s a missing piece of some puzzle multiple government agencies have been working on for a long time. And they’ve tapped me to be part of the team to follow the leads. Which means, in a sense, I’ll be working against Griffin’s suspicious-death investigation.”

  “So, Griffin won’t be questioning people here?” she asked. James shook his head. “And what about having a second officer present during interrogations?”

  “That’s another department rule I have to bend.” He nodded to her cup. “Finish your coffee. I’ve spent about as much time as I can on questioning Cat Holmes. It’s time for us both to go back undercover.” He grimaced. “God, I hate this.”

  “I know,” Bree said. “But I also know you’ll rise to the occasion and do what needs to be done.” She drained her cup and headed to the door. She paused, her hand on the handle and gave him a wink. “We’ll debrief later at the gym for that self-defense lesson you promised me.”

  Chapter 13

  “Was it bad?” Liza whispered to Bree as she returned to the rental counter. Fear lurked in the woman’s eyes.

  “It was weird and all,” Bree said, doing her best to sound like an unsure young woman. “I’ve never been questioned by the police before. But he was nice to me. I really didn’t know much to help him.”

  “You took such a long time,” Liza insisted. “What did he ask you?”

  “Just stuff about how long I’d worked here, and did I know Billy, and stuff like that. Like I said, he was nice, so I wasn’t afraid or anything.”

  Liza relaxed a bit. “At least he’s good looking. If I get nervous, I’ll think about that instead of what he’s asking me.”

  “I didn’t notice,” Bree replied, irritation and a hint of jealousy coloring her response. Was this how James felt when she discussed Matthew?

  “Sure, you didn’t,” Liza teased. “That’s why you turned pink when I mentioned it.”

  “I have a boyfriend,” Bree blurted. As if on cue, her phone started playing Wild Thing, and the words your boyfriend flashed across the screen. Her pretend boyfriend. Matthew. Bree excused herself and went outside to take the call, squeezing past Margie coming the other way, smelling of smoke. Bree hauled in a breath of cold, fresh air and answered the phone.

  “Took you long enough,” Matthew complained. “I worry when you don’t answer.” His voice softened.

  What was it about the men in her life worrying about her?

  “I’m a strong, capable woman,” she replied.

  “Strong, capable agents get bested by enemies all the time. Don’t turn it into an insult. What’s your status?”

  She filled him in on James’s revelations, but Matthew brushed them aside. “I know all of that. I set it in motion. What I need to know is if you’ve seen anything out of place this morning.”

  “Nothing,” she confirmed. “But if you’re going to worry, should we just settle for using coms and not phoning each other all day?”

  “Good idea.” He gave her settings for a private com channel to use as soon as they finished the call. “But before we do, I have information for you. We’ve decided to act as if nothing was discovered in the Crown Vic.”

  “We, who?”

  “We, the mission team. That includes you and O’Neil. The plan is to follow the money—literally. Grant was able to hack into the car’s EDR. He replaced the access any former person or agency had with a dummy account we can control. Now we have the only access to everything from conversations held in the car to the ability to redirect it.”

  “All that from hacking a device already in the car?” Bree shuddered at the thought of anyone skilled enough to be able to take over such devices. Was no one safe?

  “Not exactly. Just before your site opened, Shoe and I implanted an additional device on the car. Grant had been working on it since accessing the Mustang’s information.”

  “He’s a scary dude.”

  Matthew made a dismissive sound. “His talent is only scary if he uses it for the wrong people. Believe me, I have an eye on him to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “And who has eyes on you?”

  “That’s need to know, Watson.” He laughed and despite her wariness, Bree relaxed. “And you don’t. But rest assured there are plenty of eyes on me. Most of them friendly.”

  “Okay, so what’s my assignment?”

  “Same as always. Eyes and ears. Find out who killed Billy, what’s going on with the terrorist cell, and if the two are related. Let’s get the coms on, as you suggest.”

  “I reserve time out for bathroom breaks,” Bree said, taking up an old argument she and Matthew had regarding balancing privacy and communication.

  “As long as you warn me and keep the time out of communication reasonable,” he replied. “I know it isn’t pleasant having someone in your ear. I’m not there to judge your performance on the mission or comment on your life. I’m there for support and backup. You know that, don’t you?”

  The hint of uncertainty in his voice amused and calmed her. “I know. Just keep your comments to a minimum so I can work.”

  “Done.” With that they ended the call and Bree headed to the restroom to set up the communications channel—after dealing with the effects of too much coffee.

  “Thank you for your business.” Bree smiled at the young couple renting a fog machine and a Halloween centerpiece. “I hope your party is a great success.”

  “I’m sure my wife’s bloody rat entrée will be sufficiently gory to amuse our guests.”

  Bree grimaced and the young woman laughed. She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Seriously, it’s just mini meatloaf, molded into a rat shape with pea eyes and carrot ears. And spaghetti whiskers.”

  “Sounds like a great party idea. Mind if I steal it?”

  “Please do! And have fun with it.”

  After waving good-bye to the couple, Bree jotted a note about the recipe in her crime book, which led her to think about her promise to Norah regarding a Halloween party at the Sci-PHi complex. She crouched below the counter and whispered to Tugood. “Any more thoughts about a corporate Halloween party?”

  “Actually, while I’ve been listening in on your very boring morning, I drafted a memo from Charles Angelo allowing the employees to dress up and encouraging them to bring in treats for Halloween. Are you happy now?”

  “Norah will be ecstatic. Thanks for putting old Charles to good use.” The fictional owner of the Sci-PHi company, Charles Angelo, was another of Matthew’s pseudonyms. And why not? He did own their company, after all. If he chose to do it using an alias, what difference did that make?

  “I’ll make sure to be in the office that day to enjoy the fun,” Matthew said. “Start thinking about your costume. It’s mandatory.”

  “It is not.”

  “Yes, it is. I have it straight from Charles Angelo himself.”

  A blast of cool air from the corridor alerted Bree to someone entering the room. “Gotta go,” she whispered.

  “Hey, Cat, what are you doing down there? Hiding from customers? Or from the cops?”

  Bree stood and faced Margie, who wore a smile on her face. “If you’re hiding from the police, you shouldn’t. That young detective could take me into custody any time.” She winked. “I wouldn’t mind exploring creative uses for strip searches and handcuffs with him, if you get my drift.”

  “A man is dead, maybe murdered. You shouldn’t joke about it.” Bree suppressed a shudder at the mental image of Margie and strip searches.

  “Aww, Cat, lighten up a bit. You’re too young to be so serious. You’ve got to learn to have fun. Even on days when bad things happen.” Margie used two fingers of each hand to put air quotes on the word bad.

  “You don’t think Billy’s death was a bad thing?” Bree queried


  “Well,” Margie blew out a breath, “there’s bad and then there’s really bad. Billy wasn’t much of a loss to most of us. I’m sure Bill Jr. is happy. And his mom too. Billy was this close,” she held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, “to divorcing her. Now, instead of a muck-raking divorce, she’ll have a nice settlement.”

  Bree just looked at her, not sure how to follow up while keeping in character.

  “Don’t look like such a deer in the headlights, Cat. You’re young enough to think the world is full of happily-ever-afters. But it isn’t. Mrs. B didn’t marry hoping for a drunken, angry husband. So, she won’t cry over losing one.”

  “Do you think he left her any money?”

  “Who knows? He was dragging his feet about the divorce. One day ready to pull the trigger on it, the next hoping things would work out.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t put up with that from anybody.”

  “But you wouldn’t go so far as to kill someone, would you?”

  Margie’s face stilled and her eyes drifted up and to the right as if searching her memories or trying to decide how to answer. “I don’t know that I have it in me to kill someone,” she admitted at last. “Although I have dozens of ideas about making their life hell.”

  “Name one,” Bree challenged.

  “If I didn’t tell the cop, I’m not going to tell you,” Margie said.

  “Oh, come on,” Bree pleaded. “My boyfriend is a lying, cheating, piece of crap sometimes, and I’d like to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  Matthew made a gagging sound in her earpiece and Bree decided to twist the knife. “Just the other day, I found out he put a bug in my purse. You know, not, like an insect, like a listening device.”

  “Watson, knock it off,” Matthew hissed in her ear just as Liza entered the showroom from the back hallway.

  Margie put her arm around Bree’s shoulders. “Liza, can you watch the front? Cat needs a little break.” She moved them both toward the hall leading to the break room.

  “Sure, but didn’t you just get back from break?” asked Liza.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make it up.” Margie steered Bree from the room. Once she thought they were alone, she sat at a table and fixed her eyes on Bree.

  “Never, and I mean never, let a man dictate how you should live. You hear? Too many young folks end up as doormats because they don’t have the backbone to stand up for themselves. Ditch that boyfriend. And I mean do it yesterday.”

  “But I love him,” Bree wailed. “I mean, he can be a jerk sometimes, but he says he’s just being protective.”

  “You love the lying, cheating, piece of crap? Oh girl, you need to grow a spine.”

  Bree realized her gambit had backfired, leading Margie to give her life advice instead of revealing any useful information. “You overplayed your hand, Watson,” Matthew whispered in her ear. Muffled laughter accompanied his remark. “Was it worth it?”

  Biting her tongue to keep from answering him, Bree focused on Margie’s lecture hoping to glean something from the older woman.

  “But,” Margie said, finally winding down, “if you want to leave him with a little reminder of how shitty he treated you, you can always bake some Ex-Lax brownies. Or…” Margie leaned close. “I read about this, you understand. It’s not something I’d do. But if you get your hands on a little weed, you can plant it in the car and disconnect a taillight. When he gets pulled over for the light, the cops find the weed and bam! You just gave Karma a hand.”

  “That’s evil,” Bree said. “Besides, I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

  “Get weed or disconnect the taillight?”

  “The taillight.”

  “Come with me.” And with that Margie left the break room, headed for the garage.

  Bree fumbled with the car’s brake light wiring, stopping to watch Margie flirt with Magnus and Juan. Laughing, they broke into a mock scuffle, arguing over Margie’s affections. Magnus’s bulk, plus the fact that he stood a good six inches taller than Juan gave him an initial edge, but Juan’s speed and agility soon showed he was more than a match for the other man.

  Bree shivered, knowing either man could easily have overpowered Billy.

  “Still think I overplayed it?” Bree murmured, burying her head in the trunk of the car.

  “All you’ve proven is that Margie knows her way around a car. Which is a useful bit of information,” Matthew reluctantly agreed.

  “How are you coming there, Cat?”

  Bree straightened from her work and focused on Margie. “I don’t know. Let’s start her up and see.”

  Magnus started the car and, sure enough, the rear driver light was off. “Good job,” he said, leaning in and reconnecting the wiring. “For what it’s worth, I hope this helps your nightmares go away.”

  “My –”

  Margie gripped her arm, cutting off her words. “I told him about your fear of being kidnapped and locked in a tight space,” she said giving Bree a wink.

  “Oh. Those nightmares.” Bree rolled her eyes at Margie, ignoring Matthew’s snarky comment in her ear. She kept her focus on Magnus.

  “In that case, you would need to be able to do this from inside the trunk. In the dark.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Want to try it?”

  Bree bit her lip, pushing aside memories of Billy’s corpse and steeling herself to do what was necessary. “Okay, but I—”

  “What are you kids doing?” Gordon Reed’s voice sounded behind her and Bree turned to see him stalking into the workspace from the interior corridor of the complex. “You shouldn’t be around the cars. Not today.”

  Bree scuttled away from the car, glad to put an end to the farce. She’d gone from pumping Margie for information to pretending to have nightmares about kidnappings. All for a sliver of information about Billy’s home life and the insight into Margie’s creepy, vindictive streak.

  “A man died here yesterday,” Gordon said, his voice taking on a petulant whine. “Don’t you have any respect? That’s the problem with the world these days. Nobody has any respect for anybody. No respect for authority. I think I’ll tell that cop just what you were up to. Fighting in the garage. Messing with the cars. I’m sure he’d find it interesting.”

  “Come on, Gordo,” Margie interjected. “We were just teaching Bree a little about maintaining her car.” She turned and winked at Bree, Juan, and Magnus.

  “That may be, ma’am, but it isn’t appropriate. Not appropriate at all.” Gordon skewered the young men with a look. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning up in here? We have a man coming in tomorrow to rent the Crown Victoria. It should be polished and cleaned.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s gassed up,” Bree interjected before anyone could respond to Gordon. “That way the boys can wash off any dust from the trip to the gas station.”

  “That won’t be necessary, miss,” Gordon said as he followed her to where the keys were stored. “We have it covered. You aren’t scheduled to work in the garage today.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Bree snagged the keys over his objection and slid behind the driver’s seat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She drove off, leaving an open-mouthed Gordon behind.

  “Did you get that, Matthew?” she asked as she pulled onto the main road.

  “Good thinking, Watson. We need access to that car and the cash inside before anyone rents it. I’m on my way to you.” He named a meeting place.

  Bree heaved a sigh of relief. “I didn’t want anyone to find the money while they were cleaning the car.”

  “It’s more than just that,” Matthew told her. “I’ll unload the packets and work with the homeland people to get marked, trackable bills with embedded signal tracers in their place so we can monitor what happens to the money.

  "This gives us time to replicate the denominations and look of the stash in the car. Getting everything in place by tomorrow is a stretch, but we can manage it.”

>   Bree dropped the money off to Matthew, put gas in the car, and returned to the emporium’s garage. Gordon was nowhere in sight. Magnus greeted her. “The boss is pissed at you, girl. No one takes a car from under his nose like you just did.”

  His grin turned into a chuckle. “We were all impressed, by the way. You’ve got some spunk. But you should stay off his radar for a bit till he blows himself out.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “With the cop,” said Juan. “Probably accusing you of stealing a car. You need to find a place to lie low.” He fought to hold back his laughter. “Magnus and I will get this vehicle ready. We have plenty of time since it was originally scheduled for today. That would have been a mess with the detective here and all. Tomorrow will be much easier for everyone concerned.”

  Especially for the person picking up the hot money. Why had the pickup been delayed? Did it have something to do with Billy and his death? Bree itched to get her hands on the car’s rental paperwork.

  She made a mental note to check the rental logs and to thank James for his timing with Gordon. When she entered the showroom a few minutes later, Liza greeted her with a look somewhere between relief and irritation. “Thank God you’re back. Margie said something about you driving off in one of the cars.”

  “I just went on a gas run. Was that wrong?”

  Liza’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “I needed you here in the showroom. The officer wanted to talk to me, but I convinced him that I couldn’t leave the counter till you or Margie came back. When Margie walked in without you, the detective sent her to get Gordon. But I’m still waiting to be interviewed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bree said, trying to look sufficiently chastised.

  “It’s all right. You’re supposed to be floating from job to job. It’s just that Mrs. T didn’t tell me you were scheduled for the garage today. And then Margie decided to take back-to-back breaks. It all set me off.”

  “Plus, you’re probably nervous about your interview.” Bree pulled a couple of stools over for herself and Liza. “Why don’t you take a seat. I’ll get you a soda and be back in thirty seconds. Okay?”