Justice, Mercy and Other Myths (The New Pioneers Book 7)

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  “Mister Sheldon, I am so disappointed.” She noticed Miranda’s eyes widen and Zainab tense up when they looked past her shoulder. She didn’t need to hear Zainab say his name to know that Robert was behind her. The prickling of the hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck would have been enough.

  She tilted her head at Alex as if he were the only one in the room. “I haven’t had family there for a few hundred years; the name is one of those Ellis Island mix-ups.” She wrinkled her nose. “But you know how that goes.”

  “It’s lovely to see you again, Hannah,” Hilary interrupted. “Especially now that you don’t have a gun to my head.”

  “I can be so pleasant when someone hasn’t kidnapped my niece, imprisoned her mother or murdered her grandmother. Isn’t that right, Robert?” Hannah asked without turning around.

  Miranda’s eyes lit up. “Hannah. You’re Mariana’s aunt.”

  Hannah softened at the mention of her niece’s name. “You met Mariana?”

  “She’s, um, helping to babysit my children right now.”

  “That’s quite a step up,” Hilary said indignantly. “You’re letting Mariana be a servant?”

  Hannah turned on Hilary. How lucky she was that Hannah was on a schedule. “Don’t you ever say my niece’s name again.”

  “Hannah,” Robert said firmly, “we should go.” She wanted to turn around so badly—to shoo him away, to say she was sorry for what had happened last night, to take him home—but she had work to do.

  “Just a few minutes, Detective,” Alex said. He wasn’t making any effort to hide that he was sizing her up.

  “Of course,” Hannah said indulgently. “I was hoping you could show me the painting of Bacchus and Ariadne. I’ve always loved that one.” She linked arms with Alex and walked away with him as if no one else was there.

  She didn’t have much time.

  —

  Robert could feel his heartbeat in his throat. “Are you with her?” Zainab asked gently.

  He could see Richard tensing. How he’d love a rematch, but not tonight. “You could say that.”

  “Then don’t let her out of your sight while she’s with him,” Miranda hissed. “The painting she mentioned is upstairs in the European Wing. Go.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” he said as he ran the bottom of the stairs.

  Of course there was more than one way to get to the European Wing. You could simply walk through the long corridor on the second floor, but that was the quickest way. Robert was halfway through when he realized that Hannah would make sure they took the scenic route.

  He cursed under his breath and ran back to the top of the stairs, then made his way through the Asian and Contemporary Art wings. They could have gone through the Art of the Americas, he knew, but that would have taken them less time.

  He finally heard their voices when he was in the Rotunda from the hallway gallery to his left. He walked to the entryway and slowed his breathing so he wouldn’t be heard.

  “And what brought you to Thailand, exactly?” Sheldon asked.

  “The same thing you were there for: the shrimp business seems to have gotten a new lease on life in the last few years.” He could imagine her airily answering him. “Quite the investment for someone with an eye for those things.”

  “Indeed,” he answered. “Almost as much of an infusion of life blood as the Bangladeshi economy seems to be enjoying.”

  “Sometimes, though, it pays to be patient. Remember what everyone was saying about the BRIC countries a few years ago?”

  “Tsk tsk tsk,” Alex vocalized. “It’s all about timing.”

  “So true. And let’s not forget luck. Amir Abassadi was so lucky to get out of Boston before the Feds closed their net. And the timing of those protests in Hong Kong was even better, wasn’t it?” There was a pause. “I’m sorry I had to cancel my trip there; I know you were hoping we’d be able to meet up.”

  Amir Abassadi? Hilary Sayles’s husband? This had gone on long enough.

  “But now we’re both in Boston,” Alex answered as Robert walked in. He stepped closer and for a moment, Robert thought he saw Hannah’s smile drop a fraction. “Perhaps we can take care of our business here.”

  Hannah looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “We just might.”

  “Time’s up,” Robert said as he came up to them.

  Robert had never seen such a condescending smile. “You might want to get a less jealous bodyguard, Miss Bruges.”

  Hannah took Alex’s hand as if to shake it. “I like all the protection I can get for my family.”

  Alex looked up at the painting of Bacchus and Ariadne over their heads. “Just like Bacchus, coming to Ariadne’s rescue after Theseus abandoned her.” He put Hannah’s hand to his lips. “Do give my regards to your niece.” He dropped her hand and waved to Robert. “Goodnight, Detective.”

  The smile faded from Hannah’s face as soon as Alex was out of sight. She rubbed the spot on her hand that Alex’s lips had touched her against her dress.

  Robert closed the distance between the two of them. “What the hell are you doing?!”

  It was the only time he’d ever seen one of her façades crack. “Want to tell me why you’re stalking me?”

  “Stalking...” Robert repeated. “Here’s a tip: if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, don’t follow two people under surveillance for major crimes. And especially in a dress like that!”

  “Do you have other wardrobe suggestions?”

  “Stop stalling!” Robert demanded.

  Hannah pointed at his chest. “He confirmed that Amir Abassadi died in Hong Kong. Odds on bet is that he killed him. Happy?”

  That was interesting... “Why? And how do you know, and more importantly, how do you prove it?”

  “Because he’s a monster, none of your business, and I don’t have to. Oh, and one more thing: stay out of my way!” She ran into the Rotunda, down the stairs, and straight into a noisy crowd. By the time he caught up with her, she was running out of the exit and into a cab.

  He cursed under his breath as he walked to his car. He would deal with this later. He picked up his phone and dialed.

  “Aren’t you off?” Baptiste asked when he picked up on the other end.

  Says the man who hasn’t left the office yet. “This is good enough to come back in for. I just got a tip that Amir Abassadi was murdered in Hong Kong.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You need to be careful,” Jessie commanded when Emily picked up her phone at work the next morning.

  “Thanks, hon,” Emily said absently as she scrolled through her computer files. “But can you be more specific? And just know you’re on speaker.”

  “You need to cut that Hannah person loose, like now!”

  Emily picked up the phone. “What happened?”

  “Martin and I saw her a few nights ago with these scary, skeevy looking guys, one of whom I’m pretty sure had a fricking gun.”

  Emily looked at the phone. “How did you know what she looked like?”

  “Martin did because of what happened to her sister-in-law,” Jessie said impatiently. “You’re missing the point! So he decides that the best thing to do is call Teague, because on top of getting to watch him cuckolded, he’ll also rescue his damsel-in-distress, or whatever she is.”

  “Martin clearly did not fill you in on why Mitch has her as a client.”

  “He did after. Anyway! So we get to see Teague get there and look all pissed, then we go home. Well, I thought that was the end of it, but then as I was leaving class yesterday, who do I see on campus, right in front of the building, but the same girl.”

  “Oh, Jess!” Emily groaned. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Jessie cried. “I didn’t have a chance before she started in on me and told me not to be a ‘busybody’ and ‘goody two-shoes.’ Which is hilarious. So then I thought I was entitled to suggest that maybe her real problem was dating a dick like Teague. And then she just yells at
me to stay out of her business and walks away. Okay? She’s crazy.”

  “Jess,” Emily began, “if Martin told you what happened, you know she’s been through hell. I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have done that, but I think that’s just, I don’t know, stress.”

  “But why come for me?” Jessie snapped. “Everyone knows you’re nosier than I am.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and everyone knows you dated Teague, and that probably includes her.”

  Jessie laughed. “You think she’s jealous? Over that? Then she really is crazy.”

  “No accounting for taste, or so I’m told.” Her phone beeped. “I’ve got to go, that’s Miranda.”

  “Fine,” Jessie said sullenly. “Just...be careful.”

  —

  That afternoon, Captain Baptiste opened his door after lunch. “Teague, get in here!”

  Robert popped up quickly. Had he already gotten confirmation from Hong Kong?

  “What’s up?” Robert asked when he got to the door, then stopped in his tracks when he saw Emily Graham seated on the couch in Baptiste’s office.

  The two glared at each other for thirty seconds before Baptiste broke the silence. “Missus Graham was just telling me a very interesting story.”

  “Captain, let me to explain,” Robert said quickly as Emily smirked. “I know it wasn’t my finest moment, but it had nothing to do with police business—”

  Baptiste’s mouth twisted to one side. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please, Bobby, go on,” Emily challenged. “Let’s hear about how threatening to arrest me for not committing a crime isn’t at all police business.”

  Baptiste turned to Emily. “Which crime didn’t you commit?”

  “Kidnapping,” Emily said calmly. “When I was growing up, we called it a sleepover.”

  Robert started to speak, but stopped when Baptiste held up his hand. “I’ll deal with this later—and I will deal with it. Missus Graham actually came in to talk about something else.” Baptiste nodded to Emily. “Please repeat for Detective Teague what you just told me.”

  “Fine,” she said reluctantly. “Miranda thought you should know that Michael met Hilary before, and the story’s off.”

  Baptiste narrowed his eyes. “How does Mister Abbot know Hilary Sayles?”

  “Miranda made it sound like she threw what most college kids would consider a really good party, complete with party favors and entertainment.”

  Robert was unimpressed. “Boston’s a small town.”

  Emily frowned. “But why did Michael meet her at one of Alex Sheldon’s parties? Like I said, it sounds off.”

  “‘Off’?” Robert repeated, unable to hide his irritation.

  “As in doesn’t make sense.” Emily also failed to hide her contempt. “As you know from your thorough investigation into all of us, Miranda mooned over Alex at the time. She made it a point to be at his parties whenever she could, and she made sure she was always well-behaved in general so she could.”

  “And she wasn’t at this one?” Robert asked.

  “No,” Emily continued. “And what’s bothering her is that Michael, as you also know so well, wasn’t exactly a model citizen at the time. According to her, Michael was just short of barred from Alex’s important parties unless Richard or Miranda were there to make sure he wouldn’t make Alex look bad.”

  Robert lifted his chin. “Was Hendrickson at this party?”

  Emily shook her head. “Miranda and I both asked him, and he’s pretty sure that he was heads down in his books studying during that period. He also had no memory of ever meeting that woman before this week.”

  “So,” Robert said as he thought, “Sheldon breaks that pattern on the night Hilary Sayles just happens to be one of the guests.”

  “And here’s something else,” Emily offered. “Miranda’s also pretty sure that Michael hadn’t been using anything more serious than marijuana and alcohol before that period. A lot of it, probably, but still. Also, according to Miranda, he started college a few months later, only he didn’t last long. And as I’m sure you discovered when you went on your, uh, research binge a few years ago, he was involved in an accident that almost killed someone. Not surprisingly, he was under the influence when that happened.”

  Robert looked at Baptiste. “Sheldon knew that Michael Abbot’s father, and probably his grandfather, had been alcoholics.”

  “What would he get out of turning him into one too?” Baptiste asked after a moment.

  “A Michael that was easier to control,” Emily said. “That, and Alex is a bastard. I’m sure Bobby knows the type.”

  Robert silently counted to five before he spoke. “And you decided you could explain this to us better than she could?”

  Emily snorted and stood up. “Miranda decided. Because she can’t stand you.” She smiled at Baptiste. “Pleasure to see you again, Captain!” she said cheerfully as she breezed past Robert.

  Baptiste laughed so hard he needed to sit down on his couch. “Thanks for your support,” Robert muttered as he stalked back to his desk.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Robert got to work at six-forty-five the next morning. The morning before it had been seven, and the morning before that, it had been seven-thirty. He didn’t have any reason to linger at home.

  This hadn’t gone unnoticed by Baptiste. “Bobby, if you start coming in any earlier and staying any later, you might as well put a cot at your desk.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” Robert said as he clutched his coffee. “I notice that you’re always here when I come in and when I leave. Is that why you have that big couch in your office?”

  “No, that’s why I take lunches and vacations. Not a bad idea for you to consider.”

  Baptiste summoned Robert half an hour later. “Have you read the news yet?”

  “I try not to do that before I finish my coffee,” he said, gesturing with the now half-full cup in his hand.

  “Chug quickly then.” Baptiste turned his screen so Robert could see the item in the Globe.

  Alex Sheldon, recently returned captain of industry, makes a surprising first strike—with philanthropy

  “What the hell?” Robert murmured when he finished skimming the story. “He donated a quarter of a million dollars to an organization that helps resettle human trafficking victims?”

  “Find out what he’s up to. Is the bastard thumbing his nose at us? Or is he just trying to buy some good PR? I’ve never met the man, but from all of your reports, this is making me...need a fricking Tums.” Baptiste popped one into his mouth. “Why does this guy have to think he’s a criminal mastermind and not just a lucky, greedy bastard? I hate these guys that have to make everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Robert muttered as he sipped his coffee.

  —

  He called Detective Henry Chin later that morning. “Hey, Teague. What can I do for you?”

  “This is a longshot, but does the name Project Pride mean anything to you?”

  Robert could hear Henry typing on a keyboard. “I guess you already read the Globe story. Must be nice to have all that money to throw around.”

  “Don’t worry; he’s a miserable, lonely man. I hear lots of money does that to you.”

  “Then we are safe, my man.” They both laughed. “But why did he pick this organization? There are bigger anti-traffickers.”

  “I was kind of hoping you could give me a clue.”

  “Ha! No, I don’t think so, but I can tell you something you might find interesting. Remember Guanyin?”

  That was a nickname Hannah had picked up from an old Chinese woman after she’d rescued her and almost two hundred others from a counterfeiting factory in Chinatown. Robert didn’t want to think about her now. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “What about her?”

  “Most of those victims she rescued were kept in a safe house we never found, but some of them were helped by Project Pride.”

  Robert gripped his
phone tighter. “You don’t say?”

  “And by a strange coincidence, all of them had relatives who were already American citizens and could sponsor the victims for residence.”

  Hannah was not going away, in spite of her best efforts. “What are the odds?”

  —

  At least he had lunch plans now.

  He paid a visit to the offices of Project Pride an hour later. It was a small suite in a community center on Ash Street in Chinatown and there were only three employees, including the receptionist. After he flashed his badge, he was shown to the desk of the director, Alice Lu, who was going through a large pile of folders.

  “Detective?” she asked after he handed her his card. “Is this about the donation?”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  She led him into their small conference room that seemed to be doubling as a file room. “I assure you, you didn’t do anything wrong, but as you may know, Mister Sheldon is connected to an investigation—”

  “Into Hilary Sayles,” Alice finished grimly. “We’re aware. Before I got involved with this, I helped my father organize to prevent the complete destruction of Chinatown by developers and investors, including him. Alex Sheldon has never been a good name in my family, so no one was more surprised than I was when we received the donation.”

  “And when exactly was that?”

  “Two days ago. A man in an expensive suit came in, handed us a cashier’s check for the money, said something about Sheldon wanting to give back to the community, and left really quickly. I called the person who does legal work for us and after he spent thirty minutes telling me it was okay, I deposited the check into our account. End of story.”

  The word “story” bothered him. “And then your public relations person contacted the press?”

  Alice shook her head. “I’m our public relations person, and no, I didn’t. If I were running a new program, I’d announce that, but I’m still trying to figure out which wish list items we’re going to tackle first.” She opened her arms. “But why would I want to give Sheldon credit for anything? He gave me that money no strings attached and I’m not about to attach any for him.”