Courting Danger

by Carol Stephenson

  “I didn’t think so while fighting for bathroom rights, but the experience made me the mean, dirty fighter that I am.” He picked up a steaming mug from the counter and wrapped my hands around it. “Here, drink this.”

  He had made me tea. The simple act of kindness almost did me in. Obediently, I took a few sips.

  “That’s better.” Gabe chucked me under the chin. “You get out those wet clothes and get some rest. I’ll check in with your office and let Carling and Nicole rip some skin off of me. I’ll touch base with you first thing in the morning.”

  No way was I going to call it quits for the day, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  One moment Gabe was leaving the bathroom, the next moment he was kissing me, branding me with another blast of heat. I didn’t need the tea to warm me after all, not when my blood was racing so hot.

  Before I could react, Gabe lifted his head and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

  “Since you’re going to fret about what happened here anyway, that’s for you to gnaw on while you sleep tonight.” Then he was gone.

  I sighed and set the mug on the counter. Gabe was right, but for the wrong reason. If sex could only be the simple enjoyment that his kisses promised, but it never was. Not in my life anyway. Sex was about politics, control and self-destruction, and I wasn’t about to let it into my life again unless I was damn sure I was in the driver’s seat.

  Bar ownership on Clematis Street turned over with the frequency of failed TV sitcoms. You never knew what would be open when you came downtown. I’ve lost count of the number of name changes on the bar where I’d chosen to sit, but with the latest theme switch it was the bar of the moment for West Palm Beach’s ever restless young professionals. Men and women packed the place.

  Even though Florida’s smoking ban had been in effect for a while now, smoke from decades of patrons had permeated the very walls. As the body heat increased so did the acrid odor. For someone whose stomach had been to hell and back a few hours earlier, my sitting here probably wasn’t the wisest decision, but taking it easy wasn’t in my vocabulary. Since this bar was the “in place” with the restoration personnel, here was where I hoped to conduct informal interviews. Liquor has a lovely way of loosening lips.

  Case in point. I sipped my seltzer water and smiled encouragingly at the man whose knees pressed against mine under our minuscule table. Peter Robbins definitely ranked as a hottie on the hunk score. With his surfer’s blond streaked hair, trim athletic build and model looks, Peter drew women like a Venus flytrap drew flies. As an associate in a prestigious law firm, he wore an Italian wool suit with the aspirations of making partner stamped in its very design.

  And he wasn’t getting by merely on looks. Intelligence glittered in his eyes and he parried questions like a champion heavyweight. We’d been at it for over thirty minutes and I had gotten nothing useful in information other than Peter thought a woman’s skirt was an open invitation to slide his hand up her inner thigh. Although he had accepted my sharp rejection gracefully, he didn’t accept defeat. Even now his hand found its way to my knee. With a sigh I slapped it away.

  “You and Grace never went out?”

  Peter winked even as he craned his head to scan the latest arrival of giggling women. “No, she wasn’t my type.”

  “What is your type?”

  His practiced smile curled my toes. “You, of course. A long, tall, cool drink of blonde.”

  The ease with which the compliment rolled from him made me think he had said it in every bar up and down the street. There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked at an exotic girl with her skirt up to her butt and an abbreviated halter top sashaying by. Most likely, he would be repeating the expression before the night was over.

  “I heard different about you and Grace. I heard you had the hots for her.”

  He shrugged and took a swallow of his third Dirty Martini. “Gossip with no foundation.”

  I traced a drop of condensation on my glass. “You don’t strike me as the type to volunteer with the courthouse restoration.”

  “You don’t think I’d be interested in preserving old things?”

  “No.”

  He chuckled. “You would be right. But the partners of my law firm are major supporters of the project, and—”

  “You get brownie points for your civic efforts come performance-evaluation time,” I concluded.

  His perfect white teeth flashed. “Exactly.” He leaned toward me. “As an attorney, a very gorgeous one, I might add, you understand the games we all must play to gain the big prize.”

  “Partnership.” Yes, I did understand.

  Whether it was a job with the government, a corporation or a private firm, the pressure was all the same for a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney: to advance. Should Peter’s career sputter at his law firm, he would never be offered a chance to buy into the practice as a junior partner, and eventually, subtle to not-so-subtle pressure would be exerted on him to leave.

  I didn’t think the man had to worry. Peter was great at sucking up. So long as he generated unbelievable billing hours of thirty-six hours per day, he would be a shoe-in.

  I was so glad I had my own practice. Granted, it came with its own share of problems: paying rent and employees and hand-holding distraught clients. But at least I was my own boss.

  “Getting back to our discussion of Grace—”

  “I’d rather be talking about you,” he interrupted smoothly as he moved to take my hand.

  I picked up my glass. “Why weren’t you interested in Grace? She was more your type.”

  Peter grimaced. “Grace was a bitch.”

  “She turned you down?”

  “I’m not exactly a senior citizen.”

  For an instant I froze. I lowered my glass. “Are you saying she was having an affair with Lloyd?”

  “Bingo!”

  Not good. His testimony could be a death sentence for my client. Still, I studied Peter’s smug expression as he drank. He was actually relishing his disclosure. Was he jealous of Lloyd, or did his resentment toward my client go much deeper?

  “What about Grace’s fiancé?”

  Peter shrugged. “He traveled a lot. Made for a number of lonely nights for our Gracie.”

  “Wasn’t he wealthy?”

  “Rich, but cheap. She put out for him, but he wasn’t giving her any bling-bling beyond the engagement ring. Grace was going to cast about for better opportunities right up to her wedding day and beyond.”

  “And Lloyd was that opportunity? Hard to believe.”

  “He didn’t have jack to his name.” Acid laced Peter’s voice. “But what he had was Palm Beach connections.”

  Ah, therein was the problem. Two ambitious people wanting the same thing but unable to possess it with each other. It must’ve eaten at Peter that Grace was on a faster track to possible wealth and power.

  “So Grace was after old money.”

  “Yeah and look where it got her.”

  Not even a shred of sadness colored his voice. Peter polished off his drink and scanned the bar. Time to move on, but I needed to ask another question.

  “Did she ever mention if she made these connections?”

  Peter checked out the girl in the invisible skirt again. “The last time I saw her she was very excited about the upcoming restoration ball at The Breakers. Her fiancé was going to be out of town again. She said she had a hot dress and a prospect lined up. Didn’t mention any names.”

  Peter was obviously distracted. “Well, well, well,” he said, staring over my head. “Didn’t think Cindy had it in her to land a date.”

  “Cindy Overbeck?” She was next on my list. I had hoped she would also be here.

  “Check out the Latin lover.”

  Latin lover? I turned and saw Gabe holding the hand of the weeping Cindy.

  “That’s my investigator,” I grumbled.

  “Really? Could have fooled me. Looks like you’re not going to be coming to my place tonig
ht so maybe you should join them?” He angled a predatory smile at the half-naked girl. She tossed her hair, giving him a definite come-on.

  I rose and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table to pay for my seltzer water. “Got to go.”

  Excusing myself, I maneuvered a tortuous path through the crush of bodies. I had a few words to say to my investigator.

  Chapter 7

  “Lloyd is such an honorable man,” Cindy sobbed. “How can anyone think that he’d have an affair?” Gabe patted her hand.

  Hmm, interesting. I stopped in front of their table. The lovesick secretary was more concerned about the scandal that Lloyd was involved with Grace than the possibility he had killed her.

  “Where were you at the time of the murder, Ms. Overbeck?”

  Cindy started and gasped, “Miss Rochelle!” What little color she had drained from her face.

  Gabe merely smiled as he stood. “Here, take my chair.” He disappeared into the crowd. I had no doubt that he would return with another chair despite the fact that the bar’s seating was at a premium.

  Sitting down, I angled my legs so they’d fit into the cramped space.

  Swallowing hard first, Cindy whined, “Mr. Chavez and I were only talking, really.”

  Realization hit me with the force of a gavel that Cindy thought Gabe was my boyfriend. “Gabe’s only my investigator. He’s assisting me with Lloyd’s defense.”

  “That’s me,” Gabe plopped a chair backward by the table and then straddling it, rested his arms on top. “Your beck-and-call P.I. I aim to please.” He winked at Cindy.

  I rolled my eyes. “Cindy, where were you the night of the murder?”

  “At a paint-your-own-pottery class. I go every week.”

  “Where?” I removed my notepad from my bag since I saw that Gabe wasn’t moving a muscle to take notes.

  “The Pottery Shed on Olive and Evernia. It’s great because I can go there straight from work.”

  It was also close enough that she could slip out to kill Grace. “What time was your class?”

  “From seven to nine.”

  The medical examiner’s preliminary approximation of time of death was eight-thirty.

  “I don’t have a car, so one of the students gives me a ride home.”

  Opportunity just shrank, but still not impossible. “What’s her name?”

  Cindy moistened her lips. “Do I have to involve her? She’s been so nice to me. If I had to have Dad pick me up each time, I may not be able to continue the classes.”

  I felt sorry for her. Single, unattractive and still living at home, with no brighter future on the immediate horizon.

  Gabe said, “We only need to verify that your friend drove you home at nine, Cindy. I’ll handle contacting her myself.”

  She brightened. “Will you?”

  What was I? Some heavy-handed ogre? Gabe’s hand—at least I hoped it was his—squeezed my knee under the table. Okay, I could play along.

  “Perfect,” I muttered while I tried to flag down a waiter. The woman clad in a tropical print shirt with birds-of-paradise and khaki shorts rushed past me as if she had blinders on.

  Gabe pushed his glass at me. “Here. Water. No contagious diseases.”

  “Thanks.” I sipped as I considered my next line of questions.

  “Cindy, Lloyd’s told me how invaluable you were as his assistant.” Actually, she had apparently been a terrible secretary, but with the salary he could offer, he had been grateful that she knew how to sit at a desk.

  The woman beamed. “I did what I could to help him.”

  “What project was Grace working on the day she died?”

  The smile disappeared only to be replaced a pinched expression. “Grace did as she liked. She only jumped when your aunt called.”

  “I understood she was locating old courthouse artifacts.”

  “That’s right. Since she was so intent on making connections, Lloyd placed her in charge of that area.”

  “You didn’t like her.”

  Cindy shrugged. “No, but the only people who liked her were men.”

  “No women friends?”

  “No one working there. Some women did call her.”

  “Recall any names?”

  “No, but I keep all my phone logs.”

  I bet she did. “Great. Can you check them and call Gabe with any names and numbers?”

  Cindy’s lips curved in a timid smile. “I’ll be happy to.”

  Gabe took out his wallet and handed her a card. “Here’s my number.”

  The woman held the paper as if it were a diamond ring. “I’ll look at them first thing when I get to the office.”

  She glanced at the front of the bar. “I’ve got to go. My girlfriend is waving at me.”

  Gabe rose and pulled out her chair. “Thank you for your time.”

  Blushing, Cindy gave him a timid smile. “Anything I can do to help Mr. Silber.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  As Gabe sat, I arched a brow at him.

  “What?” All innocence, he spread his hands. “She was upset.”

  “I bet your sisters have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

  “Every damn one of them,” he agreed. “By the way, I thought you were staying home tonight.”

  “Well, look, Rick, if it isn’t the fallen angel?”

  The masculine New York–based Hispanic accent sounded like a snitch I once had, but when I looked over my shoulder at the speaker, I didn’t place the man’s face with the flat crooked nose and thick lips peeled back into a sneer. His skintight black polo shirt meant to display his physique only served to enhance a mad-pug look.

  He sidled up to our table, closely followed by another man dressed the same but in tan to compliment his dyed-blond looks. Cute. I bet the girls swarmed over them.

  Not.

  Gabe barely shifted in his chair, but he went from relaxed to alert. “If it isn’t Dumb and Dumber. What sewer brought you here, Tony?”

  “You always were mouthy, Chavez. Now that you’ve been canned, maybe we’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

  Rick the Dumber leaned forward and muttered in his friend’s ear. Tony waved him off with his large hand. “We’ve got plenty of time.” He folded his arms. “I heard you’ve become a dick…I mean a private investigator.”

  Tony’s head swiveled on his nonexistent neck so he could leer at me. “Hey, babe, you a client? If you want someone good, I could do a little consulting on the side.”

  Despite his boorish manners, I looked past the veneer of obnoxiousness and saw the sharp, watchful eyes. Cop.

  “Thanks, but I’m afraid your fashion sense would blind me too much.”

  Tony flushed a dark red. “Think you’re so high-and-mighty, don’t you, bitch? I could teach you a thing—”

  Gabe’s chair crashed to the floor as he sprang up to grab Tony’s shirt. The force of his grip drew Tony up on his toes.

  “You will apologize to the lady. Now.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a burly giant pushing his way through the crowd. The club’s security, no doubt.

  Tony’s chin jutted, but Rick laid his hand on his friend’s arm. “Tony, we don’t have time for this.”

  The urge to fight faded from Tony’s eyes and his lips twisted into a smile. “Right. We have hot dates. Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to offend.”

  No, he had meant to do a lot more. He had been spoiling for a fight with Gabe. However, he had enough control to back down, though I doubted prospective dates were the real reason. From Gabe’s shuttered expression I could tell he didn’t believe Tony either, but he released the man.

  “What’s going on here?” the bouncer demanded.

  I rose and smiled my best smile. “Not a thing, sir. Just a slight misunderstanding that’s been resolved.”

  He glared a warning. “Any more funny stuff and you’re all out of here.”

  “Understood.”

  “Come on, Tony.” Rick moved off, and afte
r brushing against Gabe in a failed attempt to knock him on his butt, Tony followed.

  “Your former colleagues are charming,” I deadpanned as I sat again. “Wonderful to see the close brotherhood of West Palm Beach police in action.”

  Gabe remained standing, his expression thoughtful. “Did you valet-park?”

  “Yes, the garage fixed my windshield. I picked it up a few hours ago. I didn’t want to park it on the street and risk any more damage.”

  “I want you to stand in a crowd while your car is brought to the front. Don’t stand alone.”

  “Am I leaving?”

  “We’re finished for the night, and you’re looking pale.”

  “Gee, thanks. Don’t go overboard with compliments.”

  He gripped my elbow, urging me up and tossing a few bills on the table. “Come on.”

  Since my head was throbbing from the cacophony of the club’s sounds, I didn’t offer even a halfhearted protest. I was tired and nothing more would be gained from my staying.

  “Remember, stay in the crowd and lock your car doors. I’ll call you later.”

  “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’ll call.” Then, like smoke, Gabe faded into the crowd. You would think such a hunk would stand out, but he had a habit of blending in. He must’ve made one hell of an undercover operative on the force.

  After fending off a few come-on’s, I made it to the front and gave my ticket to the attendant. Though I longed to stand to the side and enjoy the cool breeze, I stayed under the canopy. I even locked the doors after I slid into the driver’s seat. As I drove home, I kept an eye on my rearview mirror but didn’t spot any cars following me.

  Parking in my normal spot on the street in front of my house, I switched off the engine. My cell rang and I pulled it out of my tote. “Kate Rochelle.”

  “See?” Gabe’s voice held laughter. “You even call yourself Kate rather than Katherine.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just go up the walk and—”

  “And lock my door after turning on the lights.”

  “Then get on with it.”

  Cutting the call off, I considered beating the phone against the steering wheel but thought better of it. I strolled up the walk as if it was a Sunday in the park. However, I did hit the main switch, flooding the rooms with light, and slid the security bolt. My cell rang again as I peeked out the window.