Deadly Rumors

by Jeanne Foguth

  “Not right away."

  "When?" Quinn sounded more like he was whispering sweet nothings to the woman than garnering information.

  "Later." Martha blew her nose. Doran grimaced. "When Calhoun had a drink. Within an hour he had a stroke.” If Martha Lancaster cried much harder, she’d have a stroke, too. “That’s when I knew he’d played me for a simpleton. He was wearing driving gloves when he handed me the bottle, but my fingerprints were all over the bottle it because I’d put it on the bar. I’d poured Ms. Rose’s drink. If anyone investigated, they’d only find my prints.”

  "Dear Lady, what did you do?"

  "I poured the contents down the drain and broke the bottle into tiny pieces. I thought someone would think I killed them, but I didn’t.” The tape squeaked and hissed. He envisioned Martha throwing herself on Quinn and sobbing all over his shirt. “I would never do something like that.”

  Quinn turned off the tape, and gave him an expectant look. “Well, what do you think?”

  “That I hope she wasn’t wearing makeup when she cried all over you.” Doran raised a brow. "Or couldn't she come up with real tears, just lots of noise?" Quinn raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you buy her story," Doran exclaimed. "What’s her motive for telling you, a complete stranger?”

  “I played on her sympathies and loyalties, and inspired her confidence. Martha is a very lonely woman, and she needed to absolve her guilt.”

  “She could confess to a priest. They’re sworn to silence.” Doran slugged down the last of the muddy brew, then surged to his feet and began pacing. “I’d bet Martha heard something about our contract with the senator.”

  “What’s her motivation?"

  Doran shrugged. "Possibly propagating rumors of past murder and attempted murder to taint the election against Frederickson. Possibly just putting you off balance.”

  “Could be.” Quinn thought for a moment. “But Zoë is Good Ole Marvin's kid. He and Martha could still be close.”

  “You think having his bastard makes her loyal to him?”

  “More likely the opposite, since he never married her between his other wives. But then, I have no idea what sort of arrangement they do have.”

  Doran frowned. “Zoë seems to hang around him a lot.” Knowing that the man was her father dashed his mistress theory. “So, when it comes to the election, who are Martha and Zoë committed to?”

  “Themselves." Quinn fiddled with the remote. "My analysis is that Martha figures if anyone is going to be arrested for anything, it’s not going to be her. Zoë seems to be playing both sides, so she can stay on top."

  Doran grunted. "I'd bet money that Martha is trying to pin her own past guilt on her old lover.” Quinn gave him an expectant look. "Do we know for certain when Frederickson dumped her?” Quinn frowned then shook his head. “So, for all we know, they're still sharing sheets." He fingered the empty mug. "Poison is traditionally a woman’s weapon.”

  “I thought of that, too." Quinn sighed. "I figured she offed the old lady for some reason, then forgot to destroy the evidence and almost killed the old guy, too.”

  “Sounds possible.”

  “But can we completely discount her scenario? There are a lot of odd relationships in this bunch.”

  Doran exhaled noisily. “We’ll probably never know the truth about that. Since you served as her confessor, we need to look deeper into the backgrounds of Martha, Frederickson and Zoë.”

  “Already started.”

  Doran clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

  Quinn glanced at his wristwatch. “I need to get out to Beja Flora and continue my security analysis. By the way, there’s no drug lab in the basement, just hundreds of old fashioned fire-proof file cabinets.”

  “You've checked out the both basement levels?" Quinn nodded. Doran frowned. "Think there’s another building on the property?”

  “Doubt it, but I’m keeping an open mind.”

  “What’s the security like on the second floor?”

  “It’s got blind spots, but not enough to prevent spotting an intruder.”

  “Are all the microphones and cameras active?”

  “They were. The ones in your room are now on a closed loop tape.”

  “Thanks. Where do the cameras feed to?"

  "Loft over the garage." Quinn wagged a finger at him. "Just because I took your room off line, don't do anything stupid."

  “I won’t.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” A muscle in Quinn’s jaw twitched. “Stay out of her bed, I can’t watch your back this time.”

  “Tonight I’ll be at the big debate. Want to watch my back there?” Quinn shook his head. Doran grinned. “Didn’t think so.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Doran leaned against a wall as he watched Kelsey peer from behind the curtain at the noisy audience. He’d worn his charcoal suit, knowing it would blend with the shadows of the cavernous auditorium’s backstage area, like a chameleon. Confident that he could finally watch her without arousing suspicion, he studied Kelsey, who stood several feet away. Though her stance seemed calm, a small mirror hanging near the curtain's ropes and pulleys reflected white knuckles clutching thick burgundy velvet.

  Laughter erupted like a tidal wave of noise from the spectators, who were gathering to witness the impending debate. Kelsey flinched. Doran wondered if she’d chosen her dark pinstripe suit to look professional or to hide sweat stains.

  A tongue of light from the streetlamp spilled into the dusty area, as the rear door opened. Frederickson’s elongated shadow preceded him, like an envoy. Doran switched his attention to the senator. Frederickson’s black suit, white shirt, red power tie and dark leather attaché case all proclaimed affluence and power; a definite contrast from the furtive man Quinn had filmed.

  The moment the senator’s gaze rested on Kelsey’s back, his look turned malevolent. Doran silently shifted into a defensive position. Frederickson strolled up behind Kelsey.

  “Not the tea party you expected, is it?” he asked her.

  Kelsey glanced back at him, her expression calm. Either she'd sensed the man coming or she had nerves of steel. “Half of the county must be out there.”

  “Only a few civic minded fools.” Frederickson made a dismissive gesture.

  Kelsey raised a well-manicured brow. “Great description of the constituents.”

  If Doran hadn’t seen her knuckles, he would have thought ice flowed in her blood. But he had seen them, and suspected her icy expression masked terror.

  “You can save us both a lot of aggravation and drop out, like your brother did.” Frederickson gave her a wolfish smile. “You won't win anyway.”

  “Perhaps not, but at least I'll know I tried.”

  “Has Cal realized it yet?”

  Kelsey frowned. “What should Grandfather have realized?”

  Frederickson’s smile widened. “That you'll be the next to die.” Doran noiselessly unsnapped his holster and his fingers closed around his handgun.

  “Are you admitting that you murdered Abby and Jenny or are you threatening me?”

  Of course the bastard was threatening her, yet she acted like they were discussing the weather.

  “Would I do such a thing?” His loud, shocked tone hushed as he leaned toward her. Even when his face was mere inches from her face, Kelsey didn’t budge. “No, you fucking bitch, I’m not threatening you. I’m just telling you that certain people want me in office and they'll do anything to keep me there.”

  Doran put his hands behind his back and stepped forward. “Like Ling Chen?”

  Frederickson whirled to face him. For a fleeting moment before he controlled it, his face registered shocked recognition. “What's it to you?”

  So, he did know Old Ling. Doran calmly shrugged. “He's an old friend of mine.”

  Frederickson’s gaze narrowed. “He never mentioned you.”

  “That's strange.” Doran smil
ed. “He usually tells everyone who will listen that I’m worth millions to him.”

  Kelsey studied him, her expression perplexed. Doran gave her a quick smile, then focused on Frederickson. A flicker of doubt sprouted. A tingle of triumph welled in Doran. “Old Ling and I go way back.” Doran casually put his arm around Kelsey’s waist. She felt stiff as a mannequin. “I dated his daughter, unfortunately she died.” He caressed Kelsey. “Next time you see Ling, tell him that I look forward to our next meeting.”

  Frederickson’s look of confusion intensified. Was it possible that the senator was unaware of the reward? If so, it was the greatest single suggestion of innocence that Doran had discovered. It was also interesting that the only reaction he'd felt from Kelsey was a tiny jolt when he'd mentioned Pia. Could it be that he'd correct about her involvement with the drug cartel? No, he wouldn’t accept that.

  A shout of laughter came from the other side of the curtain. Frederickson jerked and took a step backward, where his heel caught on a cable. As he stumbled, Doran grabbed his arm in a crushing grip and yanked Frederickson close. “Ling likes controlling people in power. He doesn't give a damn whose strings he holds." Frederickson's eyes showed increasing uncertainty, making him nearly certain the suspicions about the man were true. But he had to be certain that Frederickson was Ling’s connection. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice. Doran smiled. So far, the only thing that had been bad about his lack of judgment going into this op had been that Kelsey had gotten hurt. The great thing was that he’d been there to save her when Frederickson had really tried to murder her. He looked at the senator. "Fact is, Kelsey is a lot softer.” He caressed her stiff waist, trying to reassure her. While she didn’t relax, he felt better.

  Frederickson glared at him, then stalked to the public pay phone.

  Kelsey glared at Frederickson, who turned his back toward them and mumbled into the receiver. “What the heck was that all about?” she whispered.

  Doran turned her away from him and began massaging the knotted muscles in her shoulders. “Putting him off balance.” He watched her profile in the mirror. “Now he feels that his primary backer doesn’t care if he’s in office or not.”

  “I won’t work for Ling or be controlled by any-“

  He put a finger over her lips. “I never thought you would,” he whispered into her ear. “But think how unsettling it is for Frederickson to think you could be.” From a distance a watcher would think he was nuzzling her ear. It took all his willpower not to.

  She leaned against him, an amused smile on her lips. “That feels like heaven.”

  “Thanks.”

  As he kneaded at the corded tissue, she leaned against his hands.

  “Who is Ling?” Her tone was as casual as the languid look on her face.

  “Ling Chen controls an Asian drug consortium.” He kept his tone deliberately neutral.

  “Pharmaceuticals are big business, but that doesn’t explain Marvin’s reaction. The man has made a career of being perfect and you had him as close to panicked as I’ve ever seen.” Eyes closed and smile soft, she leaned trustingly toward him as he worked the kinks out of her neck.

  “So you’ve never met or heard of Old Ling.” He deliberately kept his tone casual.

  “No.” If her muscles were an indication, she was telling the truth. “What’s so special about him?”

  “Not all drugs are pharmaceuticals.” The flesh beneath his probing hands stiffened. A moment later, she turned and stared at him.

  “Are you insinuating that your previous girlfriend’s father was a drug lord?”

  “Does that shock you?”

  Kelsey sputtered.

  Doran rested his hand on her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. “Old Ling’s business is very efficient because of his business philosophy.” He rubbed his thumbs over her neck.

  “Criminals have business philosophies?” Every syllable caressed his lips.

  Doran clenched his teeth against his rising need. “Pay your help well and when they cease having value, kill them.”

  “You are fired!” She tried to break free from his grasp.

  “Why?” He pulled her against his rock-hard body.

  “I am not going to have you work for me when you work for a drug lord.” Her whispered tone rose with thinly veiled panic.

  “I never said I worked for him.”

  “You most certainly d-“

  Doran kissed her, until he had to stop or embarrass himself. “No. I told our senator that I was worth more to Ling than he was.” Kelsey’s eyes glinted with frustration. Doran whispered. “I dated Pia to get to Ling, but I was new to the game and she wasn’t the innocent I'd thought. She figured out who I was and set a trap to kill me. You met Quinn. My stupidity cost him the use of his legs." Kelsey stared at him and swallowed hard. "Ling's daughter was killed.” Kelsey’s eyebrows rose. “Ling has a five million dollar bounty out on each of us - dead or alive.” Kelsey swallowed hard.

  Kelsey gulped. “Five-million." She swallowed, again. "You mean someone will pay that to see you?”

  "Yeah. Ling would like the privilege of torturing me to death, but he'd settle for mutilating my corpse."

  Heat suffused her face. Kelsey put her hand over his forearm. “What am I missing?” Her tone pleaded for an explanation while her eyes searched his face for the answer.

  He held up a finger. Should he drop the charade now or continue? Doran exhaled, then moved around Kelsey and picked up the phone Frederickson had just used. He dialed the operator. “This is agent Devlin Doran, with the DEA. A call was made from this phone about three minutes ago, would you please look up the number dialed?”

  “That is against company policy.”

  “Ma'am the person who made the call is a suspected drug dealer, who has no compunction against selling at playgrounds, do you want him to go free?”

  Kelsey’s nails dug into his flesh and her eyes rounded. “Are you serious,” she murmured.

  “The number was 555-0669.”

  “Thank you ma'am.” Doran hung up the phone, then placing his hand on Kelsey’s back he guided her back to where they had been.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. One, you aren’t a plain Jane detective, you’re some sort of drug investigator.” Doran nodded. “Two, you romanced Pia to get to her father, but that apparently ended badly, so now he’s after you.”

  “You could put it that way.”

  Kelsey glared at him. “Is your entire life a calculated game of lies?”

  “Sometimes it feels that way.”

  Kelsey closed her eyes. “You implied that I'd help this Ling person.” Her voice began to rise. “Marvin knows there’s no way on earth I would do anything for a drug lo-“ The men’s room door began opening. Doran kissed her. For a moment, she responded without thought or hesitation. Hunger, hot and strong surged through Doran. He forgot the assignment, forgot there were ten-thousand-people on the other side of the curtain and reveled in the sweet taste of her. Then, her body stiffened. She pushed him away. “If you admit to lying, how am I supposed to know what’s true and what isn’t.”

  He swallowed. “I could ask you to trust me.” Her mouth flattened. “I should have told you my real stats to begin with, not the cover story.” He winched.

  She shoved his hands away. “Did you kiss me to shut me up or are you using physical contact to control me?” Her icy tone and rigid stance sent a new kind of tremor through him.

  Doran reached for her, but she slapped his hands away. “This is about survival. Yours.”

  “Answer my question.”

  “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “As if you really investigate insurance fraud.” The anger in her glare made him take a step backward.

  “Quinn and I have been working undercover and yes, we have done plenty of that.

  Kelsey rolled her eyes to heaven. “And this Pia person was one of your covers.”

  She looked fiercely at him. Dear God, was he
losing her or was she jealous? It was impossible to tell. “She’s dead.”

  “How convenient.” Her sarcastic whisper grated with wrath.

  With nothing more to lose, Doran stepped forward and embraced her. She moved to slap him. He secured her arms and prayed she wouldn’t scream. Leaning forward, he whispered, “I swear to you on my sister’s grave that Pia Chen is dead.” He leaned back, hoping that they gave the impression of two people with romance on their minds, which should give Frederickson something to worry about. "Pia found out I was DEA and tried to murder me, but Quinn stopped her.” He winced. “Barely.” He eased back from her and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What are you doing.”

  “Showing you the scars. If you won’t believe what I say, perhaps you’ll believe what you see.” He eased the dark fabric aside to reveal the livid scar at the base of his neck. Kelsey’s quick intake of breath above the murmur of the audience on the other side of the curtain was the only sound. “You met Quinn. He’s in that wheelchair because of me.” Doran swallowed. “He got a bullet in his spine when he saved my miserable life.”

  “And?” Doran wondered what she wanted to know. “Why haven’t I ever heard of this Ling-person before this?”

  “He’s not someone you’d want to know.”

  “Right.” Couldn’t any truth convince her? “But he’s someone you know.”

  “My only goal is to put him behind bars.” Her skeptical look deepened. “Kelsey, I am not lying to you. After we were injured, Wes posted Quinn me here and set up our cover – the cover that I told you. It’s the story I give everyone.”

  “When I get elected, I’ll find this Wes-person in the DEA and have a chat with him.”

  “Fine. Do it.”

  She looked surprised by his quick agreement. “So this Wes-person located you here to arrest Ling?”

  “If Wes had known Ling had a distributor in this area, this would have been the last place on earth he’d have posted us.”

  “Distributor? ” Her surprise looked and sounded genuine.

  He tried to explain, “Lings bounties on Quinn and me make us major targets in all areas he runs drugs, and that makes our job of collecting evidence almost impossible.”