“Andy was a good choice,” I say carefully. “And sure, I’m bummed, but I guess this means that there’s an opening for team leader now, right?” I shoot Matteo a look to gauge his reaction. He looks almost . . . proud of me. That’s one I’m not used to seeing on my dates’ faces.
The band strikes up a jazzy swing tune just as the conversation wraps up, and Tej’s wife grabs his arm. I can tell they’re looking for an easy way to extricate themselves from the awkward conversation, and I don’t blame them. “We have to dance at least once. Come on. Maybe MG and Matteo will join us?”
In a complete reversal from the day in the lobby where he accepted the movie invitation without asking me, Matteo is hemming and hawing while I throw out a cheery “Sure, we’d love to.” I know there’s no other way to get Matteo on the dance floor, and the music drags at me. I want to just forget about Andy’s promotion for a minute. I don’t have the time to add that to my list of internal grievances right now, and dancing is the perfect way to achieve that.
“Come on, it’s just one dance. We can scope out our next target while we’re out there. And this music is perfect for our costumes.” It may be a nerdy statement, but it’s true. I can imagine no better music for our characters to dance to.
He protests but follows me out onto the floor, where he grabs my hand with one of his and my waist with the other. Slightly old-school, but I can dig it. We find a jazzy rhythm, and I shoot a shocked look up at him. “Matteo, you can dance.”
“Why are you so surprised?” He frowns, and I can tell he’s trying to keep this professional. It’s starting to push my buttons because in this moment, I dislike Detective Kildaire. He’s stuffy and focused on the case. Which is what I should be, except I’m swept away by the capes, the costumes, the jazz music, the dancing. I can’t help myself. The story thread I’m picking up tonight is deeply romantic, in the old-fashioned sense.
I want Matteo back.
“Why am I surprised that you’ve got rhythm? You drive a Prius, and you drink tea.”
He throws me a good-natured scowl, a piece of his dark messy hair falling across his forehead. My heartbeat accelerates. Not only is he a man in uniform tonight; he’s a man in costumed uniform. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything so sexy in my entire life.
“Are you really okay about the promotion? I know you really wanted it.”
I think for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Yes, I think I really am. I’ve got some other pretty awesome things going on in my life right now, and it just seems kind of . . . small. Something I can work around.”
His hand tightens on my back, and he pulls me just an inch closer. This case still stands like a wall between us, but Matteo and I are drawn together like magnets through it. If the case were over and I could finally be honest about everything, well, there wouldn’t be anything between us anymore. My mind goes to all sorts of scenarios with nothing between us, and my face grows warm.
“Don’t you look at me like that,” he warns, a friendly smile plastered on his face. He spins me out, then back in, letting our bodies crash together just a smidge too much for propriety before setting me back on my feet. “We have work to do.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m looking for clues,” I say, playing along. The music and the dancing and Matteo’s hands on my waist are making me giddy, the heady atmosphere of the party not helping either.
“Sure you are—” Matteo drops my hand suddenly and looks over my shoulder. “Agent Sosa. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Apparently.”
I turn around, schooling my features into a pleased surprise. “Oh, hello again. We met at the warehouse.”
“Yes, I remember. You’re consulting on the case.” Her voice is chilly. There’s the reminder. I can tell she doesn’t approve of Matteo’s conduct.
“Are you here as a guest? Or are you also here for research on the case?” I make sure to add a sweet smirk to cover my pointed explanation of why Matteo is here with me.
“I’m here with my husband and father. Purely pleasure tonight, I’m afraid.” The corners of her lips go up in an approximation of a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and her tone makes it clear she doesn’t qualify our dancing as “business.” I can’t picture her coming from a family of comic book nerds, but you never know about people. I try not to let my judgment show.
Matteo gives a cough. “Glad you’re here anyhow. MG—er, Ms. Martin has made some really impressive headway on the case this week. A possible connection from the time the original Hooded Falcon was written. I can catch you up on Monday if you’d like.”
“Yes, I suppose I can make the time.” Wow, she’s cranky that Matteo is here. Her eyes flick to me. “I’m surprised you’re still working on the case. Detective Rideout seemed to think there was a—ah, what words did he use?—conflict of interest? Don’t let me get in the way of your . . . investigation, if that’s what you’re calling this.”
Well, that just throws a bucket of ice on the only fun I’ve had all night. Agent Sosa moves off toward the front of the room, and Matteo and I follow suit, the fun gone from the brief moment of letting go. My heart sinks. I’ve obviously lost the respect of Agent Sosa by acting so unprofessionally and made her think less of Matteo as well. We don’t talk about it. We just grab new drinks and snag a table near the front of the room to watch the speeches. A few friends from other departments stop by, and I introduce Matteo, but he’s distracted.
Not five minutes later, the lights dim off and on, and the general din of the room drops as people move to the cocktail tables. Casey Junior appears on the stage, dressed in a stunning black tuxedo.
“MG, your roommate Ryan, how did he know I’m a cop?”
I turn to him, surprised. “The speeches are about to begin.” I do not want to discuss Ryan’s illegal activities.
“I’m serious.” He has that look on his face like he’s piecing together a puzzle, and I don’t like it.
“Why? What are you thinking?”
“Well, he would have access to your stuff and Lawrence’s, right?”
I frown. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And he’d know the cops working on the case if he were . . . involved in the vigilante field of employ.”
Nausea threatens. “Matteo, no. That’s not it at all. Ryan’s a hacker. Please don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want both of my best friends in trouble with the law.”
“But you said he’s smart and good with computers.” Matteo is on a roll now, an aha moment written all over his face. “Able to disable a security system maybe? And he obviously loves the comics.” He holds up a finger. “And didn’t you tell me that he’s got costumes, capes, and tights, the whole lot?”
“So does every nerd in this place. You saw Kyle’s closet. And don’t you think I’d know it if my own roommate were parading around this city in tights and a cape? Well, other than tonight, I mean. Everyone is in tights tonight.” I’m indignant on behalf of Ryan, but I’m also a little rattled. Matteo’s words sink in, and my mind runs a mile a minute. Ryan is all of those things. Matteo has a point.
“You’re forgetting what your profiler said, though,” I say slowly, my mind rewinding to the words Rideout threw at me on the stairs. “They think you’re chasing a woman. Well educated. Ties to the comics industry. Ryan is a guy, high-school dropout, and works in video games.”
Matteo doesn’t look convinced, so I rack my brain further.
“I mean, you can ask him about it yourself, but I’m pretty sure Lawrence and Ryan were at a gaming competition for at least one of the Golden Arrow crimes.”
“They could be working together.” Matteo leans in now, his voice hushed but passionate. I recognize the fervor I feel when something clicks for me in my stories; only this time Matteo is off his mark.
“Neither of them fits the profile. Plus, Lawrence was at the drag show the night of the explosion, remember? And . . .” I struggle to recall Ryan’s schedule. I snap my fingers.
“Lawrence mentioned that Ryan was missing the show because he had a date.”
“That could just be a cover-up.” Matteo sounds victorious now.
“No. Not made up. She’s right over there, and she’ll tell you herself. I saw them going out to lunch again this week. They’re a real couple.” I motion over to Lelani, and beside me Matteo goes still. His shoulders slump slightly. He’s gone from victorious to . . . defeated? Wow, my argument must have been excellent. I’ve won this round, thank Thor.
The room hushes. I catch a flash of dark hair near the front of the stage and crane my neck to catch sight of Agent Sosa standing just off the front of the stage, drink in hand and sour face still in evidence. Standing beside her and schmoozing with several of the Genius executives is someone I recognize as one of LA’s government officials . . . city manager maybe? I don’t pay attention to politics when I can help it, but his face and name do seem familiar. Which puts to rest my curiosity about her coming from a comic book–loving family.
Casey Junior is checking the mic on the podium, and I turn to watch, glad we’ve settled the Ryan issue. Casey Junior leans forward and addresses the crowd, “Welcome, and thank you all for sharing this night with me. I wish my father was here to see how many came to celebrate.” Usually I’d roll my eyes at this, assuming he’s tugging at emotions to gain customers, but now I know he’s serious. Suddenly I’m like the Grinch who grew a heart. I hardly recognize myself these days. Casey Junior gives a short account of how his father started the comic and how he’s proud to carry on the family legacy. No mention of the controversy. No mention of his father’s possible murder or crooked cops. I’m distracted and miss Casey Junior introducing the next speaker, but suddenly the crowd around me claps as Junior walks offstage and an older gentleman takes his place at the podium, his steps measured and careful. He uses the podium for balance, his wrinkled hands less than steady, even gripping the sides.
The crowd rustles like a celebrity has joined us. To me, it’s just a guy in an old-fashioned captain’s uniform. Apparently, to everyone else, this guy is someone. It finally dawns that I’m seeing the celebrity police captain I’ve read about in my research, in the flesh.
“Thank you, thank you,” he says, waving down the applause. “I’m happy to be here to celebrate. I accepted the offer to speak tonight because while some people call me a real-life superhero”—he pauses again for more applause—“we all know that Edward Casey was the real superhero. He was a visionary, a man before his time. His comic inspired social change, and I can speak personally to that. But Edward Casey didn’t just write about people fighting social injustice; he was a friend to the Los Angeles Police Department. Just before his unfortunate death, he had given a statement specifically to help end crime happening in his very own neighborhood. Edward Casey Senior is one of the many reasons we were successful with the biggest drug bust in LA’s history. May we continue to honor his memory by supporting social justice, supporting our law enforcement, and encouraging those we love to wear a cape now and again.” He continues to speak, and the crowd eats it up. He’s charismatic despite his age and apparent frailty. There’s a wave of laughter, and I look at Matteo. He’s basically got stars in his eyes. This man is one of his heroes the way comic book superheroes are for me. I expect to be overtaken by the same wonder as everyone around me—this guy is as close to a real-life Superman as LA has ever had—but something prickles in the back of my head. Something that feels like the hints of a story. My Spidey sense.
The beginning of his speech has my mind wandering. The climate of the comic and the climate of LA were unbelievably similar. A drug war. A big bust. And in the comic, the reveal of a superhero who went rogue. A superhero, or a cop manipulating the drug war for his own benefit. A superhero who would benefit by having his competitors in the drug trade removed and who would kill any man who tried to unmask him.
Ice forms in the pit of my stomach. “How old is he?”
Matteo still claps, watching the older gentleman exit the stage. “What? Who?”
“Anthony Munez.”
Matteo’s brows crease in annoyance, and he answers in a hushed whisper, “I don’t know. Seventy-five? Eighty?”
That would make him forty-five when he was police chief. I drum my fingers on the table. The puzzle pieces start fitting together, even though I don’t love the picture they’re painting. I need to make sure my hunch is correct. And I need to get back in that warehouse to conduct my own search before the White Rabbit realizes how close to him I am and disappears, or worse. My safety, Matteo’s safety, and L’s safety all depend on proof.
Applause rings out. I’ve missed the rest of his speech, and now the crush of the crowd threatens to keep me from acting on the idea I just had: Lawrence had seen the dirty cop all those years ago.
“I need a picture,” I say to Matteo.
“Of?”
“Anthony Munez. Come on. Come take a picture with your idol.” I reach into my small bag and produce my iPhone.
Matteo lets me shove my way through the crowd that has formed at the bottom of the stage. Captain Munez has just reached the last step, and we’re only second, next to Agent Sosa, in his receiving line.
Matteo nods to her. “Agent Sosa. And I assume your husband?” Matteo shakes her hand first, then reaches for the hand of the gentleman next to her. “Ah, yes, it’s City Councilman Sosa, right?” They must have assembled to greet Anthony Munez like, it seems, the entire room is on its way to do.
Ah. Councilman. I knew I’d seen his face on a bus stop somewhere. I shoulder away several of the gray-hairs who have convened to pay court to Munez. He’s started down the line, first pausing for a picture near Agent Sosa and her husband.
I wait until after the flash of the camera has cleared from my eyes before lunging forward slightly, hand on Anthony Munez’s arm. “Can we get a picture too, sir? Detective Kildaire is a huge fan.”
“I hardly think that’s appropriate.” It’s the acerbic tone of Agent Sosa’s voice. Her husband’s face is a similar mask of disapproval. What are they, the propriety police? They can get pictures with the fabled police chief, but Matteo can’t?
Munez settles the stalemate with a gracious half bow. “Nonsense, nonsense. Happy to help. My public misses me, and I miss the spotlight.”
Gotta get while the getting’s good. “We’ll be quick about it!” I shove Matteo toward Anthony Munez and step back to take the picture.
“One, two, three!” My cell phone hates the low light, but I manage to get a blurry one that should work. “Detective Kildaire, this should go in your office. Thank you, sir. It was so nice to meet you.” I spin on my heels, texting Lawrence as fast as my fingers can fly over the keypad.
Meet me at Genius right now. Come alone. Operation Janeway.
Matteo grabs my arm just as I reach the line of people arriving at the coat check. “Hey, MG, stop. Hang on. Where are you going?” He drags me around to face him, perfect in his costume. How I wish I could spend the night dancing under the glittering crystal chandeliers with him. Except in this moment work is really between us more than he knows.
My hunch grows, and if I’m correct, the White Rabbit already knows or will soon know we’re on his trail. Matteo will be in the line of fire. I’ll be in the line of fire. I need to keep my next moves secret, even if just to protect him. After this is all over, I plan to kiss him silly for days.
I wrench my arm away. “I forgot about something I need to go do.” I reach the coat queue and dash my hands through my hair because the line is so long.
“What? That’s crazy.” Matteo elbows into line behind me. “We’re here to work.”
“We are; we were. But I need to go.” I grasp his arm, willing him to believe me. The crowd surges around us. I recognize Nina and Kyle, dressed as Wonder Woman and the Flash. I see Ryan over in the corner, deep in heated conversation with Lelani. This is where I wish I were staying. This is where I want to be. At this fancy party with Matteo in his hot c
ostume, with my awesome friends. I feel an intense wave of longing that nearly knocks me off my heels. It’s odd how I feel like I belong with these people when I’ve spent so many years building up a wall. All it took was one hazel-eyed narcotics detective to turn my world on its head. But I have a killer and a drug lord to catch. And there are too many damn people gathered around this coat check.
“You stay here, okay? Free booze. Check into my coworkers. Steal the canapes. Lots of fun to be had. And look, there’s Ryan with my boss Lelani near the coat check. Maybe they’re leaving too. Quick, you can go meet her. Ask her about the date. Do your thing.”
Matteo’s face is frozen and impassive. “I know who she is.”
“You do? From researching Genius?”
Matteo clears his throat. “No, we were engaged.”
It’s like a punch in the gut. Engaged? Let’s go ahead and rain on my parade with my boss, who is my roommate’s girlfriend and hopeful alibi, is Matteo’s ex-girlfriend, and happens to be goddess-model hot and super-brainy smart.
Matteo clears his throat again. “I, uh, didn’t know she’d gotten a job here. I probably should go say hello.”
It’s as if everyone freezes for a moment as I absorb this, while inside my emotions run wild like Storm is wreaking havoc with my internal weather. What if he still has feelings for her? He might not be over her. She dumped him, right? And he planted an oasis for her at his house. And now I’m dealing with a wave of uncharacteristic jealousy. I don’t have time to deal with my complicated reaction to this. Better to stuff my feelings into a padlocked box and focus on my mission. I turn toward the coat check. If nothing else, Matteo talking to Lelani will buy me time to meet Lawrence. “Yeah. You go do that.” I’m going to go catch our killer.
The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow Mysteries Book 1) Page 23