by Karen Olson
Sister Mary Eucharista wouldve said that was like making lemonade out of lemons, or something like that. My brain wasnt working right at the moment.
They put Jeff and me into two different cruisers. He gave me a wink as they escorted him to a car a few feet away.
I fell asleep.
In the interrogation room.
On a stiff, metal chair with my head down on my arms on a stiff, metal table.
I dreamed of Red Rock and my bed, and the soft whirr of a tattoo machine was my white noise.
Id been at police headquarters for about three hours, interrogated by none other than Detective Frank DeBurra, going over and over and over ad nauseum everything that had happened that day.
Except I left out my first visit to Trevors. I didnt want to get Kyle in trouble, and did it really matter that Id been there twice? Sure, DeBurra would string me up if he knew, but I kept to pertinent information, like what had happened at that condo this morning and getting shot at with Jeff.
I hadnt seen Jeff since Id gotten here.
I hadnt seen Tim, either.
I wondered whether he was still at the hospital with sexy Dr. Bixby.
A thud jolted me out of my dreams and ramblings. I looked up.
Why are you keeping me here? I asked Frank DeBurra, whod slammed the door. Ive answered all your questions. Cant I go home now?
He smiled. It wasnt a nice smile; it had an edge to it. An edge that told me not to push it.
I sighed.
What else do you want to know? I asked, defeated, laying my head back down on my arms and staring up at him with one eye.
Do you know where Ace van Nes is?
My head popped up and I took my elbows off the table. Ace?
Yes, Ace van Nes. I believe he works for you.
Hes at the shop, I said. I talked to him there earlier.
Hes not there now. And Miss Hendricks was not helpful.
I couldnt help but smile. I could just imagine what Bitsy had to say to Detective Frank DeBurra.
Youre with Homeland Security; dont you know where everyone is at all times? I asked, my exhaustion turning into sarcasm.
He sighed dramatically. Thats what Miss Hendricks said, too. Do you have employee training in how to respond to a police officers questions?
How did you guess?
Where is Mr. van Nes?
Maybe hes home. Ace lived in a condo that he sublet from some guy in a band over in Summerlin. Dont you have his phone number? Why dont you just call him? I asked.
You really need to start cooperating.
I stood up and faced him. Ive answered all your questions. Ive sat here for hours allowing myself to be interrogated by you. I have cooperated thoroughly. Do I need a lawyer? I paused. And its not my fault my brother had a relationship with your fiancée, so you better get over that, too.
As if on cue, the door opened, and Tim walked in.
DeBurra jumped back, startled. Oh, Kavanaugh, its you.
Tim looked from DeBurra to me and back to DeBurra again. Dont you think youve got enough now? Shes tired. I dont know how much more you think youre going to get.
I wanted to know where hed been the whole time Id been in this little room. But at least he was here now, trying to rescue me from the clutches of Inspector Clouseau. I turned a smile on him, but he wasnt paying attention to me.
DeBurra looked like he was trying to figure out just what to say, how he was going to justify the past three hours. Id given him everything he wanted in the first hour.
DeBurra licked his lips, then pursed them together as if he were weighing a life-or-death situation. His eyes settled on me in a very unsettling way. Finally, he spoke.
Your employee Ace van Nes? Hes been dating Charlotte Sampson.
Even the cops knew. Why was I the last to know?
But he wasnt waiting for me. He kept going.
And late today, thirty thousand dollars was deposited in Ace van Ness bank account.
Chapter 38
I couldnt breathe. Thirty thousand dollars? Ace? He could barely break a thousand on one of those paintings every couple months. And while he made a good living in my shop, he didnt make that kind of money.
Then I had a flashback. Charlotte was wearing a backpack when shed jumped off that balcony. Shed been in Trevors apartment. Where there was about fifty thousand dollars hidden in Trevors boots.
But I hadnt told DeBurra Id been there earlier. They didnt know I knew about the money in the boots.
Id already been at the station house for three hours. If I suddenly came clean, I was looking at an all-nighter.
But if I didnt tell them and they found out later that I knew, Id be in deep crap. DeBurra I could handle, but I wasnt so sure about Tim.
I sighed. I was at Trevor McKays earlier today.
They looked at me like I had three heads.
We know that, Brett, Tim said softly.
I shook my head. No, I was there earlier, with Kyle Albrecht. MissTique. He had a key; we went over there to see if Charlotte was there. She wasnt, but we found money. A lot of money. In Trevors boots. In the bedroom. I paused for a second. Actually, Kyle found the money. But we left it there. We didnt take any of it.
DeBurra looked like he was going to explode.
I waited for it.
He did not disappoint.
Did you go back there for the money? he asked, his face just inches from mine. I could smell burger and onions on his breath.
No.
Why did you go back, then?
I did not go for the money. But Jeff Coleman did. I couldnt rat him out, though, because hed helped me, what with lending me his car and not getting too upsetat least outwardlywhen the tires got slashed on my watch.
I wanted to make sure Charlotte hadnt gone there after wed left, I said, hoping hed believe me. Ive been worried about her all day. She couldve gotten sick in that condo. She wasnt decontaminated like the rest of us. I hoped I wasnt laying it on too thick.
He stood up straight and stepped back, studying my face. I willed myself to stare back even though I wanted to look away, put my head back down on the table, and go to sleep again.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was just seconds, he nodded. Okay. But you have to tell me everything about that visit to the apartment.
Tim nodded at me, urging me to continue.
I sighed. I knew Id be stuck here if I told. I might as well just suck it up and tell him everything as quickly as I could. Maybe I could go home and get a couple hours sleep at some point.
Since he already knew about Bitsy rescuing me from the hospitalthat conversation lasted much longer than Id likedI started with Jeff Colemans car and going to Chez Tango and meeting up with Kyle. It didnt take me long to run through what had happened.
When I was done, I hoped that would be the end of it.
Then DeBurra held up his hand.
Okay, so you borrowed Colemans car. Where is it now?
Oops. Left that part out.
When I brought Kyle back to the club, I went in to use the phone, and when I came back out, the tires were slashed. So it was towed to a garage.
All the tires were slashed?
I nodded.
Did you find that unusual? He was baiting me.
I took it. Yes. I did find that unusual, Detective. The sarcasm dripped off my words. I figured someone didnt want me poking around.
And then when you went back to Trevor McKays place, you got shot at. Youd just been there and the tires were slashed. Is there a connection?
How should I know? Youre the detective. Is there a connection? I had stood up and was shaking with anger and exhaustion. I was one breath away from tears. There it
was. The one breath. And there were the waterworks.
My whole body heaved with sobs, but I didnt take my eyes off DeBurras face. It unnerved him. He began to shift from foot to foot; his eyes skipped over to the door as if willing someone to save him.
And thats exactly what Tim did by speaking up at just that very moment.
I think thats enough, he told DeBurra sternly. Im taking her home. If you want to ask her more questions in the morning, I can bring her back. But she needs some sleep. He put his arm around me, which only made me cry harder. I couldnt stop once Id started.
Which is why DeBurra let us leave.
I went into the ladies room and managed to calm down a little, throwing some cold water on my face and running wet hands through my hair. It was a little spikier that way, slicked back over my ears, which were still naked. I fingered them absently, wondering whether I should leave them that way for a while. No. Id find replacements in my jewelry box at home.
When I emerged, not feeling totally refreshed but at least no longer sobbing, Tim and I went out to his Jeep in the parking lot without saying anything to each other. I was tired of talking, anyway.
The desert air was still, and it had cooled a bit. If I figured right, it was about eight.
What about Jeff Coleman? Is he still in there? I asked, cocking my head toward the building as we climbed into the Jeep.
DeBurra took his statement and let him go after about an hour.
Thats good.
I had a little chat with him. You know, Brett, hes not a bad guy. Why dont you like him?
I was glad the sun was going down, so my face was in a shadow. I felt the blush crawl up my neck as I remembered Jeff grabbing me and covering me with his body when the gunshots rang out.
I shrugged. Yeah, hes not so bad after all, I guess.
He thinks pretty highly of you.
Really? I was too tired to think about it.
Do you think Ace is involved in whatever it is Charlottes up to? Tim asked. Off the record.
No. And until I saw her today jumping off that balcony, I didnt really want to think she was doing anything wrong, either. But now Im not so sure.
Did you do a background check on her when you hired her?
I stared at him. No. Should I have? Shes just a trainee.
Brett, you should background check everyone you hire, even a trainee.
Something about his tone made me pause. You know something, dont you?
He kept his eyes on the road, flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.
What is it, Tim? Whats in her background?
I cant say.
Yeah, but youre the one who said this was all off the record. So you didnt really tell me, okay?
The Jeep slowed to a stop at a light on the Strip. The Venetian was just to our left in all its Renaissance Italy glory. It looked exactly like the Doges Palace, with a sign for Madame Tussauds wax museum stuck like a postage stamp at the end of a ramp. I stared at it for a long second before whispering, Tim? Please tell me about Charlotte.
The light changed and he gunned the accelerator, causing the Jeep to lurch forward.
I didnt tell you.
I know.
He waited until we were sitting at the next light.
Metro Homeland Securitys been watching Charlotte Sampson since last year.
Chapter 39
I tried to wrap my head around what Tim was saying, but the fatigue was too much.
What do you mean, theyve been watching her? What do they think? Shes some sort of terrorist?
When Tim didnt answer, I continued.
Thats ludicrous. She was a student, studying accounting, and she wants to be a tattoo artist. Shes good. Shes really good. Shes not a terrorist.
Tim waited until I paused. They believe she and Wesley Lambert were partners.
Partners in what?
He shrugged. The light turned green, and we shot forward.
Do they think she was part of the ricin making? I asked.
Im not sure. I just overheard DeBurra saying that it was convenient she called you to come to Lamberts condo and he was dead.
Do they think she had something to do with his death?
We stopped again, and the red light cast a glow on the windshield.
Tim nodded. Yeah, they do.
I mulled that for a few seconds. Wonder what Trevors role was. And then I knew. The money. The money must have had something to do with this. I kept flashing back on that image of Charlotte with the backpack.
We were on 215 now, heading toward Henderson and my bed. I leaned back on the headrest and closed my eyes, drifting off.
But a thought made me jolt up.
The laptop. Trevors laptop. It was in Jeff Colemans car. I wondered if there was anything on it that could give me a clue as to what Trevor had been up to, and, by extension, Charlotte as well.
I glanced at Tim, who was concentrating on the road. Should I mention the laptop?
Two Sister Mary Eucharistas were sitting on my shoulders. One wore little devil horns and urged me to keep my mouth shut. The one with angels wings said I should own up.
Exhaustion won out. I justified not saying anything by telling myself Id let him know about the laptop in the morning. After I got some sleep. I didnt have the energy to answer more questions.
I leaned back again and dozed.
I barely remembered getting into the house and going to bed. But when I woke up, the sun streaming through the miniblinds, I was curled up under my comforter, wearing my cotton pajama bottoms and oversized T-shirt. I had a vague memory of pulling it over my head.
The clock told me it was ten already. I usually got to the shop around eleven. I wondered whether I could call Bitsy and explain that I needed a couple more hours of sleep.
But Id been gone all day yesterday, shed saved my butt, and I needed to give her a break.
I dragged myself out of bed, looked in the mirror, and almost screamed.
My hair, which Id slicked back so nicely at the police station, was standing on end, like Alfalfas from The Little Rascals. I swiped a hand over it, and it just bounced right back up again.
A shower. I really needed a shower.
I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and let it soak me. I tipped my head back, and the water pounded into my skull. In a good way. I dont know how long I was in there, but when I got out, I was all nice and prune-y, my skin was red from the heat, and I felt almost human again.
A cup of coffee would complete me.
Tim was already gone. Hed left the coffeepot on, and I poured a cup as I read the brief note hed left me on the counter:
Had to go in early. Will call later. Your stuff is on the chair.
T
Stuff? What stuff?
There, hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, was a supermarket plastic bag that sagged with something heavy inside. I picked it up and dumped it on the table.
I grinned. My keys, my wallet, my sunglasses, my cell phone, even the couple of pens and small pad I kept for notes.
My messenger bag was nowhere to be seen. Since it was made of some sort of fabric, the cops probably figured it could be contaminated, like my clothes, and sent it to the Big Hazard Waste Pile. No biggie. That just meant I could buy a new one.
I toasted a bagel and slathered some cream cheese on it, then took my plate and coffee into the living room and sank down on the leather sofa. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.
SpongeBob and Patrick were tormenting Squidward again.
The phone rang. I nearly spit out my coffee.
The phone wasnt in its little cradle, but I found it on top of the refrigerator just as the machine kicked in. I punched it on.
Hello?
Kavanaugh?
&nbs
p; No one else but Jeff Coleman called me by my last name.
Did I wake you?
I refreshed my cup of coffee. No. Whats up?
How was it last night? You were there late.
How do you know that?
I talked to your brother about an hour ago. I called to see how you were.
I didnt like it that my brother and Jeff Coleman were getting tight. The jury was still out on whether Jeff and I were veering into friends territory or if we were going to just stay acquaintances and colleagues. Again I thought about how his body had felt on top of me yesterday. While he was protecting me, keeping me out of harms way, putting himself in danger.
I told myself it was just reflex for him. He was a Marine, for Petes sake. His job was to protect.
Im okay, I said.
I got my car back this morning and I found the laptop
Great, I said, interrupting him. Can I come by and get it? Just as I asked, my memory flashed on my car, still at the condo parking garage, if the cops hadnt towed it by now.
How was I going to get to Jeffs, much less to work?
He was one step ahead of me.
Tim said you were going to need a ride to your car. I can come get you and bring you over there.
This might be going a little too far, but I did need to see Jeff anyway to get the laptop, and I did need to get to my car.
Its a little out of your way, I said.
I have to go pick my mother up at the pool anyway, he said. So its no big deal.
Pool? Did I miss something?
Where is your mother?
She swims with the seniors at one of the pools in Henderson every other day. She usually gets a ride with Bernie, but he just had hip replacement so Im her new chauffeur until she can get some other sucker to drive her.
Why does she come all the way out here? I asked. There are pools closer to her. Sylvia lived in Bonanza Village, a trailer parkexcuse me, a mobile home communityout near the Desert Pines Golf Course. What about Garside or Doolittle or even the municipal pool?