“The missing maid? When were you going to tell me about this?”
“I don’t know. I almost didn’t.”
Jay looked straight ahead, his fingertips tapped absently on the steering wheel. “Would it be a breach of ethics if we had dinner together first?”
“You can’t be there, Jay. I promised her I’d be alone.”
“Christ, Kasey, you don’t know what you’re walking into. I’ll be damned if I’ll let you do this by yourself.”
“I made a promise. I’m sorry.”
He sighed heavily and turned his head sharply to look her in the eye. “I’ll be in the suite all night. At least let me know when you get to the club. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Jay inserted the key in the ignition; but before he could turn it, Kasey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Jay, I have something to say. I was going to bring it up tonight, but I think you should know now.”
Jay shifted in the seat and draped his arm over the steering wheel, waiting.
“I think Brad is somehow involved in this whole messy affair.”
“What?”
She exhaled, looked off toward the orchard. “I caught him going through the safe in your office one night. And last week he had a clandestine meeting with Dan Carne in the parking garage.”
“Dan Carne?”
She turned back to him. “The mobster you had thrown out of the club a while back.”
“I know who Dan Carne is,” he said evenly.
“Brad is about the only one who hasn’t been threatened or attacked. He stands to gain the most, Jay, if anything happens to you and Dianne.”
Jay stared straight ahead through the windshield. He was silent for many long moments, then he reached over and started the engine. “Brad is not involved.” He shifted gears and pulled away.
Kasey watched his car until it disappeared a quarter-mile down the lane beyond the sycamore trees. Weary, her steps leaden, she went to her bungalow and let herself in. The place was hot and stuffy. She opened all the windows and doors.
Her mother had watered the plants and stacked her mail on the kitchen table. Kasey had the feeling her mother had not been the only person inside her house. She went through the drawers. Nothing appeared out of place, yet still she had the distinct feeling her privacy had been violated.
Standing at the bathroom sink, she stared into the medicine cabinet at the assortment of pills and ointments. She lifted a prescription vial, one that had been there for years. A painkiller, probably, though she couldn’t recall what it was for. It was half-full. She opened it, dumped the tablets into the toilet, and flushed.
From there she went into the kitchen and did the same with the food in the refrigerator, dumping everything into the wastebasket. She knew she was being paranoid; but if Cage had come into her private domain as she suspected, she wasn’t taking any chances. He was capable of anything.
As she stripped the sheets from her bed and remade it, she listened to the messages on the answering machine. Peggy had called wanting to meet for lunch to discuss her wedding. Two new clients had called with job offers. She was surprised to hear her father’s voice; he hated the machine and usually hung up without speaking. Four messages were from Brad; the last said, “Hey, I’m beginning to feel pretty stupid here. What am I, some goddamn one-night-stand? Are you blowing me off?”
She returned all the calls, saving Brad for last. She dreaded talking with him.
“Hey, beautiful, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Dinner tonight?”
“Look, Brad—”
“I hate it when people start a conversation with ‘Look, Brad.’”
“I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“Dinner tonight. Meet me in the Steak House. Eight.” He paused a beat; then, in a soft tone, he added, “Kasey, we have to talk.”
Yes, she thought, as difficult as it would be, they had to talk.
“Eight, then.”
*
Jay sat in the monitor room, the screens glowing as he dialed the number Loweman had given him. It was an Arizona exchange. A man answered. Jay identified himself and asked for Gerald Ordman.
“Yeah, that’s me,” the man said.
“I’ll calling about a man by the name of Lucas Cage.”
“What about Cage?” The tone was wary.
“I understand you were partners with him on the police force in Vegas.”
“Briefly.”
“Yes, briefly. Officer Ordman—”
“You can drop the title. I’m no longer on the force.”
“Mr. Ordman, can you give me a few minutes?”
“A Sparks detective called me awhile ago. I told him I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Look, I’m going to level with you. Cage is harassing me and my family. Hell, it’s more than harassment; it’s an all out attack, and he’s doing some heavy damage. I know about the Blue Wall of Silence and I respect it; but if you could make an exception in this case, it may save a life or two.”
There was a long silence on the other end, where Jay thought he had hung up; then, “What is it you want to know?”
“First off, how can I stop him?”
“Get yourself the biggest gun you can lay hands on and blow his fucking brains out.”
It took Jay a moment to react. He had expected the man to hem and haw, saying little, offering nothing.
“Cage is bad news,” Ordman went on. “What I’m about to tell you goes no further. I’ll deny I said it. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“We were partners for three months. I asked for a transfer and got it. Cage was the reason for the transfer. He threatened to kill me. If I hadn’t left the force and moved to another state, I think he would have done it. A bullet in the back of my head some night while on a call. Friendly fire. Y’know, a little fragging, like in Nam.”
“What did you do to piss him off?”
“I laughed at him.”
“Laughed at him?”
“That’s it. But with him it was enough. No one laughs at Lucas Cage.” Ordman shouted at someone to turn down the TV. When he came back on the line he said, “He had this thing about VD. When he was a kid, he watched his granddad die of syphilis. Guess it was pretty bad there at the end, bad enough to make quite an impression on Cage. He had this weird notion that if he took penicillin every day, he’d build up his immune system. Make it impossible to get it. Someone gave him a dose when he was young, some woman he thought was as pure as the driven snow. I hate to think what he did to her when he found out. Anyway, he used penicillin as a preventative, like vitamin C or something. I don’t know a lot about medicine and diseases, but I read about some famous actor or writer back in the fifties who’d done the same thing he was doing. This guy developed an immunity to the drug, taking it when he didn’t need it, and guess what? He got syph and ended up dying from it. Ironic, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Anyway, Cage seemed like a pretty bright guy, but that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. And I told him so. Told him about the guy I’d read about. He said, ‘We’ll see who’s dumb. We’ll just see who outlives who, Ordman.’ It wasn’t so much what he said, as the way he said it. I’d seen enough in those three months as his partner, stuff I won’t go into here and now, to be scared. He was like no one I’d ever met before. It was a threat and I damn well took it seriously.”
“Where does he get the drug?”
“He didn’t say. I suspect he steals it. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
None of what Ordman said surprised Jay. He had made the same evaluation nearly twenty years ago in Germany.
“Oh, and if he raped somebody, unless you’re doing DNA, forget it. He’s a nonsecretor.”
“How do you know that?”
“They didn’t call him the ‘Monk’ ‘cause he was celibate. And being the macho bully he is, he pretty much took what he wanted. In Vegas, while on the force, he was charged with rape,
plus assault and battery. The charges were dropped a short time later when—Guess what?”
“The alleged victim recanted her story.”
“Bingo.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Kasey stopped at the YMCA before meeting Brad for dinner. It was the night both Peggy and Artie taught self-defense classes in the gym. She lucked out and caught them between classes.
Artie, in his exuberant way, leaped to his feet and gave her a bear hug when she and Peggy entered the small front office. The big man lifted her off the floor with relative ease.
“Put her down, you big lug,” Peggy said. “Can’t you see she’s dressed for a date? You’re going to have her all scroungy and wrinkled.”
Artie quickly released her. “Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kasey said, straightening her clothes. She wore all white—skirt, blouse, jacket, and heeled sandals with no hose—her legs were tan from yard work at the ranch. A shell comb held her hair up in back. “And it’s not a date—not really.”
“Well, you sure look pretty,” Artie said.
She smiled at him, then looked from one to the other. “I have a favor to ask.”
“More trouble at the house?” Peggy said.
“Not since I talked to you this afternoon. But that’s why I’m here. I wondered if you could stay out there for a few days, Artie, in your old room. I’d feel a lot better knowing there was someone looking out for Ma and the others, especially when I’m not there.”
“No problem,” Peggy and Artie said in unison.
“Are you sure? I hate to split up the lovebirds just before the big day.”
“Actually, I was going to suggest it myself,” Peggy said. “I have a lot to do to get ready for the wedding, and Artie, as sweet and adorable as he is…” Peggy patted his cheek, “has been getting in the way.”
Artie gave her a mock look of rejection before turning to Kasey. “I have my last class in a few minutes, then I’ll head on out. Is that soon enough?”
“That’s great, thanks.” Kasey turned to leave, turned back. “I don’t think he’ll show up; but if he does, don’t take any unnecessary chances. Call the police and protect yourself any way you can. You know where Ma’s .20 gauge is. He’s bad, Artie. Real bad.”
Kasey saw Peggy move a little closer to Artie.
As she went out the door, she hoped nothing would come of Cage’s parting threat.
*
At 8:05 Kasey approached the entrance to the Steak House. The reservation desk was empty. She looked around; and instead of spotting the maitre d’, she saw Jay standing just inside the door talking with a well-dressed couple. Jay spotted her. As he waited for the woman to finish what she was saying, he stared at Kasey, his expression pensive. A moment later, he excused himself and came up to her. Her pulsed raced. Oh God, she thought. Not now. Not here.
“You look lovely,” he said. “Very lovely”
“Thank you.”
“We have to talk.”
“Yes. Later. After I’ve talked with Paula.”
“She’s meeting you here?”
“No, I’m—”
“Good evening, Mr. King. How are you tonight, sir?” the maitre d’ asked, stepping alongside Kasey.
“Fine, Lloyd.”
The maitre d’ smiled, turned to Kasey. “Ms. Atwood, young Mr. King has already been seated. He asked me to escort you to the table as soon as you arrived.”
Kasey glanced at Jay. The expression on his face was impossible to read.
“Thank you, Lloyd.” She turned to Jay. “I’ll call.” Then she moved into the restaurant, leaving Jay standing in the foyer. She had taken only a few steps when she felt fingers grasp her arm.
Jay pulled her to him, whispered in her ear. “More undercover work?”
And before she could react, he abruptly released her and strode off.
Shaken, she was escorted to the back of the Steak House to a booth reserved for hotel VIPs. Brad stood when she approached. She slid into the booth and Brad sat again, sealing off any means of a quick escape.
“You look fantastic in white. I like your hair up like that. You have sexy ears. A sexy neck. Sexy lady.”
After the waiter poured champagne—Dom Perignon—and left. Brad took her hand. “Your hand is like ice. Cold hands, warm heart, huh?”
“That’s what they say,” she said.
“So, where’ve you been? I swear I’ve spent the whole afternoon on the phone trying to get hold of you,” he said, his voice overly loud. He grinned. “The woman is ruthless. She tosses me out at the crack of dawn; then she manages to ditch me, hiding out all day, ignoring my calls.”
“Let’s talk about Dan Carne. If you expect me to trust you, you have to tell me why you met with him.”
“You want to talk about trust? What about my trust in you? Huh, how ‘bout that, Kasey?”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough.” He took a deep swallow of champagne. “Let’s talk about you first. Where you went, what you did, who you were with.”
“Brad, please, give me a break. It’s been one helluva day.”
“Yeah?” He stared at her, waiting. “So let’s hear about it.”
“Look, Brad—”
“There she goes again with the ‘Look, Brad…’”
“If you’re going to be surly, I don’t think I care to stick around.”
She started to scoot around the booth to the opening. Brad caught her wrist.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Look, Kasey—Christ, now you’ve got me doing it.” He took her hand again. “Kasey, I know you didn’t want to get physically involved. But, hey, we got involved. What we did last night was kinda intimate, don’t you think?”
“It was very intimate, Brad.”
“Yeah, well, I’d say that makes us sorta—correct me if I’m wrong here—committed, attached, whatever.”
“You once said it didn’t have to be a commitment—between you and me, that is. That you’d settle for raw, unadulterated sex. Remember?”
“Well, I lied. That was before. Now I’d kinda like a commitment. Unless sleeping with guys is something you do a lot and it don’t mean shit to you.”
“No, it’s not something I do a lot. In fact, it—” She cut herself off, took a swallow of water, ignoring the champagne. She brushed at hair on her face that wasn’t there, then turned to face him. “Brad, listen to me, about last night. It shouldn’t have happened. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I like you, I like you very much, but—”
“But you don’t love me like you love my uncle. Is that it?”
Kasey said nothing. What could she say? She refused to lie, and it would serve no purpose to admit it.
“Guess I should have seen it coming, huh? Boy, you’ve really got this rebound thing down pat.”
Don’t encourage him, she told herself. He’s drunk. Just walk out, leave before things turn ugly.
He drank down the champagne, yanked the bottle out of the ice bucket, and talked to it as he refilled his glass, “Yeah, if she can’t have the one she wants, she goes for the next available sucker. The rebound queen. Her husband dies and she remarries before the ink is dry on the death certificate. The ink isn’t dry on the marriage certificate when she dumps that poor, miserable bastard. Then she gets the hots for the boss; and when he shines her on, she picks up with the dumbass nephew.”
She had told him about her two marriages that night in the monitor room. In confidence. Now he was throwing it up to her. The ugly half of Brad’s split personality had reared its head. Last night he had asked her to trust him. How could she trust a man who could turn her words against her in a fit of anger?
When she attempted to leave, he clutched her wrist again. “Just a damn minute. I know he was with you this afternoon. He left your number with Gail. Uncle Jay snaps his fingers and you jump into bed with him and forget what we shared last night. Forget me. How was it, Kasey? Every
thing you hoped it would be? Hmmm? Bet you didn’t make the mistake of calling out my name in the heat of passion.”
She pulled her arm away and slid around the booth. This time, he didn’t try to stop her.
*
Kasey sat at the downstairs bar drinking a white-wine spritzer. She needed something to take the edge off, yet wanted a clear head for her meeting with Paula Volger.
The bartenders moved up and down the bar, taking money, ringing up sales, making drinks, pocketing tokes. A pile of bills sat in front of her.
Frowning, she spread out the bills. She remembered putting a ten on the bar. When had the bartender taken her money and given her change? How could she have missed that? The art of observation was second nature to her. Or rather, it used to be. She realized that lately her skills had all but deserted her. And she knew when they had departed and why.
Since she had fallen for Jay, what used to come naturally now took a deep concentrated effort. She couldn’t see, couldn’t do her job because of the distraction. She should have known Lucas Cage would spread his net, encompassing more than the club and the King family. The man knew everything about them, had made a point to find out. He knew about the attraction between Jay and herself. He had gone after Sherry, had hurt her to serve his own means.
Kasey’s stomach knotted. She should have known that it was Cage, not an old man with an Irish name, who had moved into her mother’s house. She should have asked questions, paid more attention to the signs. Because of her incompetence, Cage had gained a foothold in the Atwood house. There was a good chance Sherry would not be his only victim.
At eight forty-five she went to her room to wait for Paula. Several minutes after nine, the phone rang.
“Meet me on the roof of the parking garage.”
“Paula?”
“The roof. Now.” Then the line went dead.
Kasey’s mind raced. The voice was Paula’s. But had she been coerced into calling? Could it be a trap as Jay had suggested? On the roof or in her room—if it were a trap, she was vulnerable either way. She dialed Jay’s suite. No one answered. So he had abandoned her, too. Could she blame him?
She opened her clutch bag, checking for her canister of pepper spray. For protection she carried only the spray and her ring of keys. Although she had more than adequate training in self-defense, she prayed she would never have to put it to the test. Earlier today in her mother’s kitchen with Lucas Cage, she had chosen to run rather than stand and fight. Time and again Peggy drilled into her students that escape was the ultimate goal. Fight only as a last resort; and then, by God, use everything you have and then some.
Mortal Crimes 2 Page 131