by Style, Linda
Just then, the office door flew open and a woman who appeared to be in her fifties or sixties breezed into the room. It was hard for Rico to tell how old any woman was anymore since natural aging seemed to be a thing of the past in California.
“Mother.” Macy’s voice rose when she said the words. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no.” Then the woman saw Rico. “I—I’m sorry. I was out shopping and thought I’d…well, I didn’t know you had a client. It’s after hours and no one was out in front and—”
“He’s not a client,” Macy quickly clarified.
“Oh. A friend then?” The woman looked from Macy to Rico, and she was smiling. Pleasant.
Macy seemed a little rattled. Maybe she wasn’t impervious after all. “Yes,” Rico said. “We’re good friends.”
Macy’s mother gave her daughter a look he easily recognized. The bad manners look. His mother was good at that, too.
“I’m sorry,” Macy said. “This is Rico Santini.” She gestured toward him. “And this is my mother, Sarah Capshaw.”
Rico stood and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Capshaw. Although I’m surprised. You two look more like sisters than mother and daughter. But then you’ve probably heard that more than once.”
Macy’s mother beamed. “Please, call me Sarah.”
“And please, call me Rico.”
Macy glared at him.
“Well, dear,” said Sarah, clutching her bag. “I won’t keep you. Why don’t you come to dinner tonight? We’d love to have you join us, too, Rico.”
“I don’t think—” Macy began, searching for the right words.
Standing next to Macy’s mother, Rico saw the woman’s disappointment in her eyes. Apparently Macy saw it, too. “Well, let me check my schedule,” she said, hitting a few keys on her computer. “Okay. It looks like I’m free.”
Sarah’s face lit up like Yankee Stadium during a night game. It made him wonder when Macy had last brought a friend to dinner.
“And how about you, Rico?”
Watching Macy’s expression, he said, “I’m always up for great company. Sure, I’d love to have dinner with your family.”
“It’s settled then,” Sarah chirped, already on her way out. “Your father will be delighted. Seven okay?”
Macy nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if it was all she could do to hold her tongue.
“Ta, then.” And with that, Sarah glided out the door.
Macy eyed Rico. “You want to explain?”
“About?”
“That good friend thing.”
He shrugged. “I was being polite. Maybe you should explain why you didn’t tell her we weren’t good friends.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“And the dinner? You could’ve told me not to come but you didn’t.”
She straightened, raising her chin. “Maybe I thought dinner with my parents would be the perfect punishment for lying about our relationship.”
“Our relationship. I like that. But for me, food is never punishment.” He grinned.
She cleared her throat. “With my parents it is. Anyway, you don’t have to go. I’ll make an excuse for you.”
“No need for that. I’d like to go. In fact, I’d like it very much.”
Macy’s expression shifted from uncertainty to resignation. Maybe she’d just realized he wasn’t a quitter.
“Shall I pick you up or would you like to drive separately?”
“Pick me up?” He scoffed. “I think it would be more appropriate if I picked you up. Just tell me where and when.”
She puzzled on that for a few seconds. “Yes…I guess that would look better, wouldn’t it.”
Look better? He didn’t care what other people thought. He shifted from one foot to the other, feeling oddly uneasy. Odd. He’d gotten what he wanted. So, why did he feel as if Macy had manipulated him?
***
RICO LEFT MACY’S OFFICE on a mission to get more information about Haven’s Gate. When he was finished at the station, first on his to-do list was the Board of Health and the office that regulated licensed health-care facilities.
“I went through the Ray case again,” he told Jordan, who was sitting at the desk diagonally across from Rico’s. “There wasn’t much information on the facility.”
Jordan frowned. “Is that significant?”
“I don’t know. Right now anything could be important.”
“Right now—” Jordan looked at his watch. “—a cold beer seems pretty important. How about it? The others are already at the bar.”
Rico closed the file. “Can’t. I have other plans.”
Jordan didn’t look surprised. “Hot date?”
“Business. Dinner with Macy Capshaw at her parents’ home.”
His partner, who had been pulling files together, getting ready to go, stopped what he was doing. “That’s an unusual way to conduct business, my friend.”
“Strictly business,” Rico said. “Information gathering. After you left the morgue, I went through another box from the Ray case and discovered that Wesley Capshaw used to be on the board of directors for Haven’s Gate. He may have been their legal consultant, too, but that wasn’t clear. I don’t know if he’s still on the board, but he was at the time of the kidnapping.”
“And?” Jordan frowned. “People like Capshaw are on a lot of advisory boards and charitable foundations.”
“I have reason to believe the doctor or the facility might be covering up some quality-of-care issues.”
“And that relates to the kidnapping how?”
Rico expelled a long breath. Right now, all he had was Macy’s theory that there could be negligence since two babies were stillborn within twenty-four hours and someone had lied about one of them. If there was a cover-up of some kind, it was possible the same thing could’ve happened to Chelsey’s baby. “That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
He told Jordan everything Macy had told him and when Rico finished, Jordan said, “Now it makes sense. If someone lied about that, they could’ve been lying about the kidnapping. If Chelsey recanted her decision to give up her child, someone might’ve taken the infant so he could be adopted anyway.”
“That’s one scenario.”
“One that doesn’t make sense. There’d be other ways to do it that wouldn’t involve the police.”
“The police were brought in because Chelsey Ray called them in. The management of Haven’s Gate had balked, saying they’d conduct their own investigation. I guess that’s understandable if they didn’t want anyone nosing around.”
“Didn’t we check with the Board of Medical Examiners back then to see if the doctor had received any complaints?”
Rico nodded. “Yes, but I’m going to do it again. See if he was licensed in any other states and check there, too.”
“What makes you think Wesley Capshaw’s going to spill anything? And if he’s on the board, or was in the past, wouldn’t Macy know? Wouldn’t she have a problem with your questioning him?”
“Maybe. But I don’t think she knows. I only discovered it myself when I was scouring the old file. It wasn’t something that had any significance in the earlier investigation, but it does now, and while I can’t question him in specifics at dinner, I might get some insights. You never know where a nugget of new information might come from.”
“Uh-huh. And dinner with a sexy heiress isn’t too hard to take, either.”
“Not even a thought.”
Jordan clapped Rico on the back. “Right. And I’m Donald Duck.”
“That you are, my friend. And you’re quacking up the wrong tree.” But he had to admit, having dinner with Macy was not an unpleasant thought.
“Okay. If you say so,” he said grinning knowingly. “And I’m outta here. But the guys are gonna be pissed you’re not there. It’s your round.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“Not a chance. But, good
luck with the silver fox.” On his way out the door, Jordan looked at Rico over his shoulder. “I think you’re going to need it.”
Jordan was right. The only thing he was likely to get from Wesley Capshaw was scorn and loathing. The man had a stellar reputation as an attorney, but was an elitist, and the only clients he represented were those with big money. Guilty or not, he didn’t care. And he always won.
But Macy would be there, and for some reason he felt compelled to help her. If it helped him, too, all the better.
“So, get outta here then,” he said to Jordan. “And leave me to my misery.”
CHAPTER SIX
WHY? WHY HAD SHE AGREED TO that whole friend thing and dinner? Part of it was the disappointed look on her mother’s face when she thought Macy was going to say no. The other part was because she was tired of Rico needling her about not having any fun…and she was tired of her parents thinking she didn’t have a social life.
But the instant Rico had started grinning like a fat, satisfied cat, she’d felt her blood burn in her veins. “I’d love to have dinner with your family.” He was so stinking sure of himself she’d wanted to smack him. Now, agreeing as she had, for whatever reasons, an uneasy foreboding washed over her. She was going to regret opening that door. She just knew it.
On the other hand, her mother was ecstatic.
Of course Sarah would be excited. She wanted her only child married. She wanted grandchildren. Desperately. The last man Macy had brought to dinner — three years ago — was an attorney at her father’s firm who she discovered only wanted to be a partner, one way or another. When she’d explained she was going to open her own practice and have nothing to do with corporate law, he’d disappeared faster than the speed of light.
So, okay. She was going to have dinner with Rico. Nothing she couldn’t handle. She just hoped the event didn’t give her mother false hope. Which really didn’t matter, because if it did, her father would soon squelch it. Rico, a cop, wasn’t her father’s idea of prime son-in-law material. Not even close.
The thought gave her pause. Had she accepted the invite to spite her father? He’d told her once she always dated boys he didn’t approve of because she wanted to get back at him. It was probably true at the time. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She didn’t give a freaking fig what her father thought.
And this wasn’t a date. Yes, she liked Rico. He seemed like a nice guy. He was an honest man and he was charming. But it wasn’t a date and they weren’t even friends.
Even though his touch made her stomach flutter.
Macy stepped into her walk-in closet, flipped on the light and glanced at the clothes hanging on both sides. Mostly work clothes or extremely casual, sweats and jeans. She shifted the hangers to see what appealed to her. What would Santini wear? She’d only ever seen him in jeans and a shirt, or T-shirt with a blazer. And tennis shoes. If he wore that, her mother would probably faint. She smiled. Her guess…he’d come as is.
***
THE SECURITY GATES at the Wilshire Boulevard high-rise condominiums, where Macy lived, swung wide to let him in. The Golden Mile — the high-rent district. Everything in the Hollywood Hills area was the high-rent district. Beverly Hills, Bel Air, Sunset Boulevard. He smiled as he envisioned bringing Macy to his little place in Anaheim. Yeah.
He parked in one of the guest spaces and noted the lush greenery, bright flowers, palm trees and shrubbery he didn’t recognize. He’d never had much interest in scenery, preferring instead to experience the outdoors in a more physical way. But he had to admit it was a pretty nice place—if you liked living in high-rise stacks.
He nodded to the uniformed man standing at the doors, pulled the numbers for the security lock from his pocket and punched them in. The front door opened into a large marble-floored foyer. A giant bouquet of flowers on a round mahogany table in the middle of the entry announced this was where rich people lived.
If he’d had any interest in Macy Capshaw at all, this place told him what a fantasy that was.
He punched the elevator button and the doors silently slid open. Reaching her unit on the top floor, he rang the bell and almost before he took his hand away, she appeared in the doorway.
“Hi.”
He could barely get out a response. She was a knockout in an off-the-shoulder sweater and a short skirt that revealed great legs. And sexy, strappy, really high heels. “You look stunning.”
“Thanks,” she said, her gaze sweeping over him. “You look nice, too.” She paused taking another look. Her brows lifted. “Different.”
“Gave up the jeans and T-shirt just for you.”
“My mother will be most appreciative. Come in. I’m on the phone, but I’ll be done in a minute.”
He stepped inside.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said before walking into an adjoining room — an office with a large desk and matching bookshelves lining the walls. Law books, he guessed. She apparently worked at her office downtown and at home.
He went into the living room and did a quick inventory, noting the exits. In addition to the front door, there were three sets of Arcadia doors on a wall of glass that apparently opened onto a large balcony. She had a pretty good view of the city from there.
The rest of the place was designer perfect, but something was missing. No photographs of family, no sentimental things.
Just as he was about to sit in one of the plush easy chairs on the other side of a gargantuan marble-topped coffee table, something rustled behind him. He swung around to find a ball of fluff nudging his pant leg.
“Hey, little guy. What’s up?” He’d never seen a dog so small. “Go ahead and sniff. I’m no threat.” He reached down and picked up the pooch.
“Okay,” Macy’s soft voice came from behind. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. This little guy’s been keeping me company.”
A wide smile crossed Macy’s face when she saw him holding the dog. “That’s Hercules.”
She took the dog from him and cradled it in her arms before placing the fluff ball on a large plush pillow next to one of the chairs.
“Big name for a little guy.”
“Yes, I thought it would boost his self-esteem. And when I have to listen to him bark, I’m inclined to think it worked.”
He smiled, enjoying her sense of humor.
“He’s part Yorkie. Yorkshire Terrier.”
He nodded, though he didn’t know one dog from the next unless it was a German shepherd, golden retriever or a Labrador.
“I’ll be back soon,” she said to the animal. Then to him, “Let’s go.”
He stooped to rub behind the dog’s ears. “I’ve been thinking…”
Already on her way to the door, she stopped, turning slowly. “Thinking is good. Something specific?”
“Yes. I’m thinking that we should act as if we’re friends since that’s what I told your mother.”
“Sure. You’re right. We’ll act like friends.”
“What kind of friends? Close friends? Intimate friends? How well do we know each other?”
Her response was instant. “We know each other well enough to have dinner together.”
“Which means?”
“Just that.”
He concentrated on the dog’s left ear. “Well, where I grew up, when you bring someone to meet the folks, it’s more than a casual thing.”
She stared at him. “Well, that’s not the case in California. Here you bring a friend to dinner just because you’re friends. Nothing more.”
He could tell she was getting annoyed, when all he really wanted was to know why she’d gone along with his friendship ruse. He was pretty certain it wasn’t because she liked him so much. “Okay, I get it. Just wanted to be clear so I don’t screw things up.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m the one who’ll probably screw up. I always do around my father.”
Her tone was light, but he had the feeling there was truth behind the words. A chink in her armor?
A vulnerability. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged off the comment, walked to the door, grabbing a small purse off a table on the way. “No reason. Just making conversation.”
He’d hit a hot button. He’d wondered what would rattle that cool facade, and now he knew — her father. Whatever the friction between Macy and her father, he’d bet it went back a long way. He’d had major conflicts with his own father and knew the routine well. “Okay. If you say so.”
Ignoring his comment, she eyed a battered truck parked outside the gate and said, said, “We can use my car if you’d like.”
“Why? You don’t like my ride?” Rico laughed, then sauntered toward a black Jaguar.
Heat rushed to Macy’s cheeks as Rico went over and opened the passenger door, then extended a hand to help her inside. “No…uh, it’s very nice. I just thought—”
“That you were going to have to ride in that truck?” He climbed into the driver’s seat.
Macy had to laugh. He was perceptive. A quality she liked, but she wasn’t sure she liked it when applied to her. The heavy scent of leather inside the car indicated it was new. “I didn’t know law enforcement paid well enough for a car like this.”
He turned the key and the roadster growled to life. “Belongs to Jordan who, as you probably know, has other income besides his police salary. My car’s in the shop getting new tires. Where to?”
“Beverly Hills. Bel Air to be exact.” She rattled off the address. “We can take Wilshire to La Brea and go north…”
“I’m familiar with the Hills. I worked a beat for years.”
She watched him in profile as he expertly wove his way to the Hollywood freeway going north. He seemed different tonight. He seemed…less intense. Relaxed almost. He made her feel more relaxed, too. “How long have you lived in L.A.?”
“Ten years.”
“So, how did a guy from New Jersey end up working in law enforcement in California?”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Long story short, the move involved a girl who wanted to be an actress. That didn’t last, but I liked it here and stayed.” He exited the freeway onto Sunset Boulevard.
“Go to the end and turn left.”