See No Evil

by Morgan Hayes

  “I’m her friend, dammit! Now either you let me through or I’ll—”

  “It’s all right, Roberts. Let her in.”

  “Stevie?” Paige was beside her then. “Honey? What happened? Are you okay?”

  A nod was all Stevie had the energy for as she fell into Paige’s embrace.

  “Seems like someone decided they’d try your place again,” Devane explained. “It was the back door like before. But this time they came prepared. Looks like they brought some tools. Picked the lock, then cut the chain.”

  “So you think it was the same person?” Paige asked, her arm still around Stevie’s shoulder.

  “Most likely,” he offered gruffly. “Hits like the one you had a few nights ago are often the work of repeat offend ers. They’ll break into a place, grab whatever they can and scope the place for a second hit. Granted, they usually wait a little longer between jobs, but still…”

  Devane was minimizing what had happened, Stevie was sure. He had to suspect that the break-ins were connected to Gary’s murder, otherwise he would have left it to the uniformed officers to respond to the call.

  “We’ll send some men over in the morning to dust the place for prints again and—”

  “Detective? There’s nothing out back,” an officer told him. “All we got was the cutters and a couple of partial foot prints that could belong to the perpetrator. The place is secure.”

  “Thanks, Novak. You guys can clear out. I think we’re done for now.”

  Stevie stood up from the bed, and Paige, recognizing her restlessness, guided her to the living room. Devane followed.

  “Look, Ms. Falcioni,” he said, “I don’t think you have to worry about this guy coming back. All the same, I can have a patrol car park out front if you like. But for your own peace of mind, perhaps you’d be better off staying the night someplace else. Is there somewhere you can go?”

  Paige’s hand tightened around her arm. “She’ll be staying at my place tonight, Detective.”

  “Good. Leave a couple of lights on here. I’ll have a car pass by once in a while through the night to keep an eye on the place.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  “What about that alarm system? I thought you were going to contact Ace Security,” Devane asked, referring to the company he’d recommended after the first break-in.

  “We did. They’re supposed to be installing the system tomorrow sometime.”

  “Good.” She heard Devane start for the stairs. Then his rough voice grated through the quiet that had descended on the studio when the officers cleared out. “I’ll speak to my friend at Ace Security and see what he can do about making sure your system is in and operating tomorrow morning. Do you want a patrol to escort the two of you to Ms. Carpenter’s?”

  “Thank you, Detective, but I think we’ll manage. Besides, I need to pack a few things.”

  Stevie hoped her smile at least appeared grateful. When she thanked the detective before he left, she couldn’t help thinking that the only reason Devane displayed the concern he did was because she was his key witness. Only she could ID Gary’s killer, and Devane was not about to let anything jeopardize that.

  WHEN ALLISTER TURNED onto Stevie’s street and passed the second patrol car within a three-block distance, he was willing to write it off as coincidence. But then, as the Images studio came into view and he saw a final cruiser back away from the building followed by a dark sedan, he thought his heart had stopped.

  This time when he parked next to the studio-apartment, it was lit up like the Fourth of July. Yanking the keys from the ignition, he raced across the street and down the snowpacked walk. He was short of breath when he started pounding on the front door, but it wasn’t because of the run. Icy fingers of dread wrapped around his throat, choking each gulp of cold air. And by the time Paige opened the door, Allister was already expecting the worst.

  “What happened?” he blurted before Paige had even managed to utter a greeting.

  “I saw the cruisers leave. Are you guys—Where’s Stevie?”

  “Upstairs—she’s fine, Allister,” Paige assured him, stepping aside to let him in. “We had another break-in. I…I was out getting groceries. Stevie…was alone when it happened.”

  Paige blamed herself, Allister realized. Blamed herself because she’d left Stevie on her own.

  He saw her need for comfort and took her shoulders in his hands. “Paige, it’s not your fault.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I still shouldn’t have left her. She…she was here all alone when the guy broke in. She could have…”

  Allister released her shoulders and gave her arm a final reassuring squeeze before rushing across the studio and up the stairs, only vaguely aware that Paige followed him. Stevie stood at the kitchen bar. Her back was to him, and her arms were wrapped around herself.

  “Stevie?”

  She didn’t move.

  “Stevie? It’s Allister,” he said, crossing the room as she turned toward him at last. “Are you all right?”

  Allister couldn’t recall ever seeing an expression alter as rapidly as hers did just then. Fear and trepidation were re placed by a defiant strength; he could see she had mustered her courage and was forcing back tears.

  “Stevie?” He reached out to take her hand, desperate to make physical contact with her, to get past that stubborn facade of independence.

  Her hand trembled in his.

  “I’m okay, Allister,” she said at last, her chin lifting a fraction of an inch. “The police were here almost immediately. And we don’t think anything was stolen this time.”

  She withdrew her hand from his and worked her way across the room as though needing to put space between them, to stand on her own.

  Paige broke the silence. “Stevie and I were just going to pack a few things. Detective Devane offered to have a patrol car stationed out front, but Stevie agrees she’d feel safer staying at my place tonight. Just in case the burglars come back.”

  He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “They weren’t burglars,” Stevie said.

  “What do you mean?” Allister crossed to her side once again. This time she did not move away from him.

  “This is about Gary’s murder,” she stated so matter-offactly Allister was taken aback.

  “Stevie—”

  “Whoever killed Gary thinks I have something. That’s why they broke in when I was in the hospital. That’s why they broke in again tonight.”

  She paused for a breath, then went on, “The lights were off, like they were last night. You remember, Allister, you thought no one was home. Whoever broke in here tonight thought the same thing. They figured the place was empty. They figured they could get whatever it was they didn’t find the first time.”

  Allister stared at her. He should have guessed that Stevie would make the connection sooner or later. He just hadn’t counted on it being sooner.

  “What is it, Allister? Tell me. What are they after?”

  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stevie.”

  She took an abrupt step backward, barely missing an end table, and when she crossed her arms over her chest, Allister was struck by her sudden flare of anger.

  “Don’t play me for stupid, Allister. You know exactly what it is. You and Devane. Both of you know. You were asking me about a package or something just last night. Asking if Gary had left anything with me. Given me something for safekeeping.”

  “Stevie, listen to me—”

  “Only if you’re going to give me some answers. I want to know what the hell is happening. And I want to know exactly what it is you and the police seem to think I have.”

  Even Paige looked surprised by Stevie’s ignited wrath, Allister noted as he glanced from Stevie to Paige and then back again. This was it, he thought. There was no way out now.

  He had to tell Stevie about the coins. It was clear she knew nothing about them. And since, according to Gary, she was involved, Allister
had to come clean with the one person who could, just maybe, help him find Bainbridge’s shipment.

  “Okay,” he said, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Okay, Stevie. I’ll tell you what I know. But not here. My place.”

  Paige looked at him in astonishment. “But—”

  “My apartment has a security entrance. Does yours?”

  “Well, no, but…”

  For almost ten minutes Allister and Paige debated over where Stevie would spend the night. And the longer they argued, the more Stevie felt like a child caught between two bickering parents, until finally she’d shouted at both of them to stop. She told them she would accept Allister’s offer. Her lingering fear gave his place with it’s tight security a certain appeal. Besides at Allister’s, she would finally get the answers she’d been seeking.

  Minutes later Paige tossed Stevie’s overnight bag into the Explorer, then gave her a quick hug and drove off in her own car.

  The trip to Allister’s was silent. Stevie wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t ready to discuss what he had promised, or if he actually recognized how shaken she was. Either way, she was grateful for the silence.

  He still wasn’t forthcoming when he took her up to his small one-bedroom apartment and led her through it. She was aware of him picking things up as they went, pausing several times to shove boxes out of the way. When she asked how long he’d lived there, he’d ashamedly admitted eight months.

  He guided her to the couch and offered to make tea, but Stevie convinced him that it wasn’t too late for coffee. Soon she could hear the last gurgles of the coffeemaker from the kitchen, followed by the clatter of ceramic mugs and finally Allister’s footfalls as he came back into the living room.

  “Black, right?” he asked as he took her hand and put it around the warm mug.

  “Black’s great.” Stevie sipped the brew, welcoming the caffeine that would see her through the explanations Allister had promised her.

  “So,” she said, “why were you on your way to my place tonight?”

  “Tonight?” His voice came from her right and she turned toward it. “Tonight…I was just coming over. Barb had asked after you, and I’d promised I would stop by. That’s all.”

  But Stevie had to wonder if Barb even remotely figured in Allister’s reasons.

  “About Gary…”

  She heard his quick exhale and took it as amusement at her directness.

  “What is it you seem to think Gary gave me, anyway?”

  There was a pause, then finally, “Coins.”

  “Coins? I don’t understand.”

  “Do you remember that burglary at the museum last May?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “A collection of rare Spanish coins was stolen from a traveling exhibit. Their worth was estimated at anywhere from four to five million dollars.”

  “You’re not going to tell me Gary was mixed up with that, are you?”

  “Not directly,” Allister said. “But from what I can figure, Gary was hired to ship the coins overseas. I think he had his suspicions about the shipment and checked the contents. When he discovered the stolen coins, it seems he decided to blackmail the shipper.”

  “Gary?” Stevie shook her head. That did not sound like the Gary she’d known. Allister had to be wrong. “I don’t believe it. How do you know this, Allister? Do you have proof?”

  “Actually, Stevie, it’s the police who have the proof. They searched Gary’s office at the warehouse and found a tape of a phone call between him and the man behind the shipment. They were talking about stolen goods, although there was no mention of what those goods actually were. But the police also found a bunch of newspaper clippings about the museum robbery.”

  “Well, have they identified the other man on the tape?”

  “Not as far as I know. And I don’t think they will. It was too fuzzy. Even I hardly recognized the voice.”

  “Wait a second, Allister. You know who hired Gary to ship the coins?”

  He hesitated, and then, “Yes, I know the man behind the entire operation, Stevie. It’s a wealthy collector by the name of Edward Bainbridge.”

  Stevie’s fingers tightened around her mug. None of this made sense. It all sounded too crazy. Allister was talking about her friend Gary and this Edward Bainbridge as though they were active members of some shady Danby underworld she’d never even realized existed.

  “Once Gary discovered the contents of the shipment,” Allister continued, “he tried to make a deal with Bainbridge. That’s what their phone call was about. But Gary got in too deep. I tried to warn him about Bainbridge, but I was obviously too late. Stevie, it was Bainbridge who was behind Gary’s death. I’m sure of it.”

  Stevie shuddered. This was the stuff of nightmares, men plotting to kill other men…to kill Gary. This wasn’t reality—at least no reality she’d ever known.

  She shook her head again.

  “Stevie.” Allister moved closer to her on the couch and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Stevie, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy to hear, but it’s the truth.”

  She was afraid to ask, but knew she had to. “So how does this relate to me, Allister?”

  “I think the problem now is that Bainbridge doesn’t have his coins. I don’t think. Gary was supposed to have been killed—at least, not until Bainbridge had the coins again.

  But whoever he’d sent to Gary’s office that night must have gotten carried away. And, he didn’t get the package.”

  “And that’s what you think Gary gave me? Why, Allister? I mean, Gary had an entire warehouse to hide the coins in, so why would he give them to me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because he knew he was in over his head, because he knew Bainbridge was going to come after him and he needed to get them out of the warehouse.”

  “Bainbridge and Devane—you think they believe this, too, that I’ve somehow got these coins?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? I don’t see the connection.”

  “Because you were there that night, Stevie. You and Paige. The photo shoot. You were there after the staff had already all gone home. As far as anyone can tell, you were probably the last person to see Gary alive.”

  “Except for his killer,” Stevie added, remembering how she’d barely stepped into Gary’s office that night, how she’d seen his body by the desk seconds before she’d been attacked. No, she wasn’t the last person to see Gary alive.

  “Except for his killer,” Allister repeated. “If anyone was watching Gary, they would have known you were at the warehouse, Stevie, and if they were desperate to find the coins, they might think he gave them to you.”

  “But he didn’t, Allister. Gary didn’t give me anything.”

  “Did he say anything to you that last day? Anything that seemed odd or out of the ordinary?”

  “No. Gary was…I don’t know, he seemed really nervous the last time I saw him. He didn’t say much at all. I saw him for maybe five or ten minutes after the shoot. That was it.”

  Allister was silent for a long time. His hand was still on Stevie’s shoulder, and he was close enough that she could hear his breathing. Beyond that, there were only muffled street noises: cars passing outside the building, a distant horn, a late-night sander.

  “Look, Allister, I have to be honest,” she said finally. “All of this sounds a bit farfetched. I mean, don’t you think that Bainbridge, or whoever is after these coins, would search Gary’s warehouse first before breaking into my place? It just doesn’t make sense.”

  But it did make sense. To Allister, who’d held Gary through his final breaths, it made perfect sense. Gary had given him Stevie’s name for one reason and one reason alone—the coins.

  But this was not something Allister could tell Stevie.

  As though seeking solace from him, Stevie brought her hand to his where it rested on her shoulder. He was surprised by its soft warmth.

  “You do believe me, don’t you, Allister? About the coins? You d
on’t think I—”

  “Stevie, no. Of course I believe you. But that’s not the point here. It’s Bainbridge who obviously assumes you have the coins. You said yourself you don’t believe those two break-ins were random. And if he thinks you have the coins, or even something that might lead to them, trust me, he’s not going to stop at a couple of break-ins.”

  He took her hand in his then and lowered it to her lap. Her fingers slid easily between his, and he stared at their hands—hers so delicate, his so strong—entwined, as though they belonged together.

  “I don’t mean to frighten you, Stevie. It’s just that with a man like Edward Bainbridge, you can’t be too careful.”

  “Sounds like you know this guy pretty well,” she murmured, her voice as soft as her touch.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Perhaps the bitterness in his voice was warning enough that she not press him on the subject.

  “So why don’t you take all this to the police, Allister? If you know about Bainbridge and the coins, and if you think this man is dangerous, why not tell Devane and let him handle it?”

  He sighed. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Stevie.”

  “Well, perhaps you should enlighten me.”

  He withdrew his hand and stood up, abruptly. When he glanced at her again, she seemed a bit startled by his action. But he couldn’t be physically close to her right now, not while he told her what he had to.

  And he had to tell her—about Bainbridge and about his prison-term—because if he didn’t, Devane would. The detective would warn Stevie about Allister the second he found out where she’d spent the night; Devane would say anything necessary to keep his key witness away from his prime suspect. And if that happened, if Allister wasn’t the one to tell Stevie about his past, then Stevie’s trust would be lost forever. He’d never get the coins or the evidence he needed.

  “Allister?”

  “Stevie…I’m not sure what Barb and Gary told you about me. About where I’ve been the past few years and why you never met me before now.”