Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  After Kathy explained the details to Montaigne, she handed my cell back and said, “Montaigne’s calling Soul Patch right now, or whoever answers the phone at the website contact number for private showings. We’ll see what happens.”

  “Our job is to document every step taken, so we can reconstruct how Soul Patch operates, and with whom,” Geo said as he rolled a metal painter’s scaffolding into the kitchen. “Also, if possible, we should track the money back to its source account. Then we’ll get the man arrested on that evidence, fingerprint him and buy time while we dissect every inch of his life to try and tie him to the Leary murder, Newark explosion and the Phoenix fire. That’s more than enough to put him away for life.” Geo maneuvered the scaffolding between the granite kitchen island and the monster-sized kitchen sinks. He then climbed up on the scaffolding, unscrewed the high-tech air vent cover, placed the first baby monitor inside and replaced the cover. He repeated this in each room while we discussed setting the AC at a high range, so it wouldn’t come on during the sting and disrupt our ability to listen.

  Chapter 41

  I left before the Tower setup was complete, so I could meet Mountain at Tuscan Pizza. I was sitting in a booth with my back to the wall, swirling and sniffing a generous stem full of merlot when the double glass doors burst open and in strode the Mountain.

  Holy shit he was good looking! Why did my pulse quicken so much whenever he entered a room? From his six-foot-four vantage point, he scanned the room. Found me in the darkened booth at the back, looked me straight in the eye like he owned me, and strode in long purposeful steps across the floor. He entered the dark booth and slid in one swift movement along the leather until his thigh crushed against mine. Yikes, the thigh thing again. My pulse quickened to double time.

  “Hi, Sammy. What kind of trouble are you brewing now?”

  “Trouble? Since when have I brewed, as you put it, trouble?”

  “Since birth, babe.”

  “Brewing trouble sounds like a witch’s job.”

  “Exactly. I rest my case,” Mountain closed one hand over mine. “A delicious, alluring, impossible-to-ignore witch. Or maybe a siren. Something irresistible.” He deftly extracted the glass of merlot from my other hand, downed all of it in a few swift gulps, licked his lips lasciviously and pressed his thigh more tightly against mine.

  Uh-oh, I thought. He’s turned some kind of corner and embraced the sex decision, or the love decision or…

  In the midst of my faltering, he took matters into his own hands and grabbed the back of my head, hair and all, cradling the base of my skull in his huge hand. He then bent down and pressed his lips ever so softly on mine. I could taste the wine, smell his cologne, spicy and exotic. Then the pressure deepened and deepened. I gave up. Gave in. Gave over. All the givings possible to this good, strong, competent and smart man and laid back on the soft backrest of the booth in a gesture of complete compliance, welcoming the deepening pressure of his lips and then, finally, his tongue. I was glad we were in the dark. It was as if the merlot, the spicy, exotic scent of his cologne all seeped through me as the pressure deepened, until I grew so wet, full and pulsating between my legs that I was now willing to give over everything to him.

  His cell rang. And rang. And rang. The people in other booths who weren’t already staring at us during the kissing phase now turned to stare at us during the ringing phase. Finally, Mountain extracted his lips from mine and pulled the damn phone, actually a throwaway phone, from his pocket. He registered the call-in number and raised his eyebrows. “Soul Patch,” he whispered, breathing hard and looking at me meaningfully. We both jerked upright like two teens caught petting in the backseat of a car. Not a far-off description.

  I listened attentively to Mountain tell Soul Patch he was in a public restaurant and needed to step outside. Montaigne slid out of the booth, gesturing for me to stay. I let that ride, realizing Mountain would need every bit of his concentration to come across as Constantine Friar, potential buyer for the Penthouse Eye, as he and Kathy had practiced.

  Besides, I needed the time to compose myself after the wet, and I do mean wet, kiss. Mountain and I’d only kissed a few times before and those had been noncommittal pecks. This kiss was no peck and the word noncommittal could not be used to describe it in any way by either party.

  Ten to fifteen minutes passed as I sat alone in the booth going back and forth in my mind about what to do about Mountain. I reached no definitive conclusion when he strode back into the Tuscan, sliding the throwaway phone in his pocket. He looked jazzed and preoccupied in a new way.

  He slid back into the booth. No thigh touching. All business. “Okay, Sammy, I hope you brought your legal pad because this sting is coming down tomorrow, 10 A.M., and if we don’t all plan it well, Soul Patch walks, or worse. Much worse. So let’s lay out every detail and potential scenario.”

  And that’s what we did. Kisses over. All business. I pulled out my legal pad and drew the layout of the Penthouse Eye, showing where the baby monitors were. I then explained where all the controls were and how they worked, described the floor of the condo beneath where the rest of us would be stationed, and the positions we needed Constantine aka Montaigne to lure Soul Patch to so we would be able to hear what was going on. We knew the recordings probably wouldn’t hold up in court, but they would help protect Mountain. Our intent was to understand Soul Patch’s methods and account transaction route. When Soul Patch attempted to withdraw escrow money from Constantine’s pseudo-account, we hoped to tie Soul Patch to his multitude of crimes.

  Mountain and I worked just as feverishly on this as we had on kissing each other earlier. When the plan was as solid as it could be, and the sausage and mushroom pizza with three cheeses had disappeared from the pan, we both sat back. I could see that Mountain was in his detective mode, focused and with a single purpose: catching Soul Patch. I was in my Sammy mode after the delicious kiss: pissed-off, relieved and disappointed all at the same time.

  Mountain had at least a small sense of this, even in detective mode. I had to give him some credit. He turned to me and lifted my chin in his hands. “I need to be focused, Sammy. Lives are resting on my ability to perform well tomorrow. I need to get a good night’s sleep and mentally prepare for my role.”

  Arrgghhhh! I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Except for one thing. I wanted to be the one calling the shots between Mountain and me, not him. “Well, I hope you get a good night’s sleep, so you can perfect your abilities,” I said sarcastically, rising from the booth quickly. Then I stomped out of the Tuscan, swinging my rear end as much as possible, so that would be the last thing he’d see.

  Chapter 42

  Montaigne arrived the next morning at the Obsidian Tower dressed in a blue dress shirt and black slacks hanging from his ass so perfectly it gave me the shivers. All four of us reviewed the plans and conducted an onsite walk-through to anticipate all that could go wrong. Then Montaigne moved his borrowed car up to the street-level garage to meet Soul Patch, who arrived promptly at 10 A.M.

  To play his part, Mountain had driven a friend’s leased, ultra-decked out, midnight-blue BMW. He’d also borrowed an expensive Rolex from another friend and a fine leather briefcase. We all had a busy morning that started early. Kathy had filled Mountain’s briefcase with documentation that proved Constantine Friar’s net worth and ability to purchase the Penthouse several times over. If Soul Patch chose to call Constantine’s mortgage broker, Mountain had Geo’s cell number programmed into his phone.

  Geo, Kathy and I had parked in the darkest corner of the lowest level of the garage at 7 A.M. and were already stationed in the condo one floor below the Penthouse, our ears tuned into the baby monitors.

  My pulse spiked when we heard Mountain and Soul Patch step into the Penthouse foyer. The sting was in motion!

  Mountain carried no weapon. Our primary defense system, if you could call it that, was the array of baby monitors. Most of them in air vents, but we’d been forced to place two of them b
ehind the scaffolding of some on-going construction work. One was on the second story and one in the monster-sized kitchen where we anticipated the deal to go down.

  For our secondary line of defense, I’d brought two guns, a Bulgarian-made double-action, semi-auto Arcus and my Smith and Wesson 442 revolver, for up close and personal, last-ditch confrontation. I also had a stiletto knife strapped to my calf in a black sheath. I wore that more for the sexy effect under my pant leg, and I’d planned on flashing it to Montaigne later after we’d wrapped up our sting.

  The big downside to our plan was that if the situation digressed quickly, I was one floor down from Montaigne. I’d have to use the fire stairs or the elevator to reach the Penthouse.

  So far, I’d never actually had to fire a gun in the course of my job, much less use the sexy stiletto, but being the daughter of a police officer, I was raised to be an excellent shot. I practiced with both weapons for an hour or more weekly at the range out near the Carefree Highway exit, my dad and brothers joining me for friendly competition. I shot better than either of my brothers, and as Dad was getting older, I was starting to out-shoot him too. I knew my way around a firing arm, at least on a firing range. I wasn’t so sure in a real-life situation. I hoped today would not put me to the test.

  All three of us jumped when we suddenly heard Montaigne’s voice through the baby monitor. “So Mr. LeGrande, how many square feet are there per floor?”

  Soul Patch used the name he’d given at the charity ball, Stephan LeGrande, to enact his real estate sales. We heard his heavy French accent slide smoothly through the baby monitor, “Oh, Monsieur Friar, please call me Stephan. The main floor here covers about 6,000 square feet and the south side rises straight up to the tip of the pyramid out here as you will see. The north side carries an additional two stories of bedrooms, a gym and office space, and two extraordinary media rooms.”

  We could hear them sliding their briefcases on the granite countertop in the kitchen as LeGrande drawled on in a silken French accent, swollen with smooth professionalism. “Plus, the master bedroom and bathroom suite make up the tip of the pyramid with views to the stars at night. All in all, a good 11,000 square feet of living space total. The second story is 4,000 square feet and the master loft with the view to the sky is 1,000.”

  “Marvelous,” we heard Mountain respond. “Please call me Constantine, Stephan. So how would my family shield out the sun from these slanted windows? Not that we’d ever be here in the summer, but even the winter months are sun-filled in Arizona.”

  Stephan gave his practiced reply, walking Mountain through the same control panel properties Kathy had demonstrated the day before. Next we listened to Soul Patch opening the door out to the balcony. “One simply pushes the button here, Constantine, and the sliding glass door opens to this dramatic view of the Estrella Mountains and the city lights at night.” Then their voices faded as they strolled out to see the view.

  I held my breath, hoping Soul Patch wasn’t suspicious. The walk-around balcony would be a dangerous location for Mountain if Soul Patch realized this was a set up.

  I was almost afraid to talk out loud to Geo and Kathy in case we could be heard in the Penthouse above, even though I knew no sound carried back from the receivers to the baby monitors. “So far, so good,” I whispered.

  Geo and Kathy ignored me. Kathy was staring at the baby monitor as if it were a living thing. Geo had the vast screen of his Mac open, poised to refresh the escrow deposit that we hoped Soul Patch would wire from the dummy account for Constantine Friar into his own secret account.

  I fretted the entire time they were out of range on the balcony. Finally, their voices returned, growing in volume. They were now back in the living room. Soul Patch still crooned his sales pitch. “At night the city lights and stars are unbelievable. However, allow me to show you the upper stories, because if you think this view is breathtaking, wait until you see the full-sky view from the Master Suite.”

  On cue per our plan, Mountain interrupted the flow of the tour. “Before we go any further, Stephan, I’d like to talk about price and the specifics of this investment.”

  That stopped Stephan short. “Most certainly, Monsieur Friar, er Constantine. Investments are one of my favorite subjects.” I imagined his slimy smile expanding horizontally across his tiny soul patch goatee as he cracked his little joke.

  I’ll bet investments are one of your favorite subjects, I thought as LeGrande’s voice oozed through the monitor like, well, like snake oil. We heard the click of their briefcases opening. “Pardon me a moment, Constantine, while I start up my laptop.”

  “He’s got his laptop!” Geo crowed. “We have lift off!” Excitement raced through the room. Our sting hinged on Geo’s ability to track the escrow deposit as it was extracted from the dummy account he’d constructed for Constantine and then follow the electronic wire thread into Soul Patch’s secret account. This thread was our ticket into the hornet’s nest as it were, and from there, Geo hoped to track and prove the flow of Soul Patch’s criminal activity. Mountain would take Geo’s electronic findings to his investigative experts at the police station, where they’d obtain enough evidence to arrest Soul Patch. Another investigation would then be launched to determine the extent of his other crimes. We weren’t recording LeGrande, as the audio tape would not hold up in court, but we were anxious to hear him describe the specifics of his scheme, to aid in tracing it.

  “Exactly how will this be a good investment for me? I understand from your website you also have similar properties in Madrid and Dubai. I’m a little concerned that this property is an unfinished construction. And asking around, I discovered all three properties are unfinished. That concerns me. I don’t want to invest in unfinished business.” Mountain had adopted a vague European accent to go with his Friar identity. Not so hard for him, as there were a lot of French people in the Montaigne bloodline.

  “Monsieur Friar, the Obsidian Tower properties are world-renowned, world-class investments. Their unique architectural design makes them enduring landmarks in each of the cities in which they reside. Especially here in Phoenix, you cannot find a more prestigious address than the Obsidian Tower. Further, the Phoenix location is the least expensive Tower of the three, allowing you to be part of history for a much lower price.”

  “You haven’t addressed my concern yet about investing in an unfinished construction.”

  “Ah, Constantine, you are a worldly man; surely you understand this is a fairly standard approach on massive projects like these. The project is orchestrated in thirds. A portion of the construction loan funds are released at the beginning of the project. From those a shell building is constructed and we sell from the shell concept. Then a second phase of construction funds is released and we build out a number of the shells and sell from a semi-built stage. Finally, when most units are sold, we complete the project.”

  “But according to my research this has been a three-year build so far. That concerns me.” Kathy had cautioned Mountain to strike just the right balance as a potential investor. If Mountain signed along the dotted line to purchase the Penthouse with no questions, Soul Patch might become suspicious. On the other hand, if Mountain asked too many questions that might put Soul Patch on red alert too.

  We heard Soul Patch hesitate, then clear his throat. “Monsieur Friar, er Constantine, I assure you we are at the final stage here. We have built examples of all the condo units and 90% have sold. We are poised to finish all construction in Phoenix within the next six months, even in this poor economy. Of course, you understand it is harder to sell the Penthouse Eye. There are not so many investors with your wherewithal, Monsieur Constantine, to make a historic dream like this come true. Do you have a wife and children?” Stephan deftly changed the subject.

  “No children. I have a wife back in London who, frankly, would love this place. She’d be awestruck by the kitchen and the views, not to mention the status of owning such a landmark piece of property. She entertains friends a
nd clients of mine all the time. She’d love the media room and the master bedroom as well, so I’m anxious to take a look at those. But first, let’s talk about price.”

  “Mountain’s playing it perfectly,” I whispered. Kathy nodded slightly as she continued to stare intently at the baby monitor receiver. We all strained to listen as LeGrande responded.

  “Of course, Monsieur Friar, a good investor weighs everything, and you did not become as rich as you are through poor investing.” Soul Patch continued to pour it on. “As you know, this is a slow economy, so these units are selling at excellent prices. Never again, in your lifetime, will you be able to get a price like this. The price of this Penthouse home is three million dollars, only three hundred dollars a square foot, an outstanding investment for a home of this stature, and, of course, we anticipate the price per square foot value to triple over the next five years as the economy stabilizes.”

  “Since when did Soul Patch become the economist of the year?” I hissed to my silent companions. “Everyone knows it’s a complete and total crap shoot right now.” They both remained tense.

  Crap shoot or not, Soul Patch leapt ahead in his silky, elegant tone. “You must put down one-third of that, so one million as an escrow deposit, to hold the home during the final construction phase. Then this extraordinary home will be yours—for you and your wife to enjoy in six months’ time. The weather will be superb here in the Valley at that time of year. Further, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Phoenix and Scottsdale are giving L.A. some competition as the business hub of choice in the West and Southwest U.S.”

  I whistled in astonishment as I conducted a quick estimate in my head. If Soul Patch was, in fact, selling the Penthouse Eye multiple times in three different cities, not to mention the various custom condo units below, he’d probably already absconded with at least thirty million. “Holy shit!” I whispered a little more loudly. Undoubtedly, reason enough to commit murder to cover up his tracks.