The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries)

by Merry Jones

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing. I mean, what do you think is on them?”

  Nick shrugged. “Well, Harris was assigned to Homeland Security. Whatever it is, it’s important.”

  Oh God. The information on those drives might be of grave importance, and my daughter and dog had been playing with them as if they were yo-yos. Dangerous people were hunting for them, and I wanted them gone. Out of the house, out of Nick’s possession.

  “So, you’re taking them to the police?” Tony bit his lip. “Where, to homicide? Right now? Wait. I’ll go with you—”

  “No, Tony. You stay here. It’s better to keep it official.” Nick started to leave, then stopped. “Unless you have something to add to your account—”

  “No, no. But I’ve been beat up over those things and someone was killed. And I don’t think you should go alone. For security.”

  “Better if you stay here with Zoe. It’s about time for Anna to take off.”

  “Sam’s here. He can manage.”

  “Stay. I won’t be long.”

  Tony was shaking and breaking into a sweat. “Trust me, Nick. You shouldn’t go alone. If those guys catch up with you—”

  “Nick, he’s right. We’ll be fine here. Take Tony along.”

  Nick sighed, resigned. “Fine. Let’s go.” He gave me a quick goodbye kiss, and the two of them took off.

  SIXTY

  SAM WAS SPREAD OUT in the reclining chair, watching a rerun of M*A*S*H, finishing off the last of the leftover dip and chips. Molly was on his lap, Oliver whimpering at his feet, hoping for a handout.

  “What’s up, Zoe?” Sam sucked on a beer. “Where’d Nick go?”

  “Sam, have you lost any jump drives?” I knew his answer but needed to ask, just to be sure. “You know, for the computer?”

  “Jump drives?” His face was blank. “What, those memory things? No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Just making sure.”

  “I found some,” Molly explained. “Well, really, Oliver did.” Stretched out on Sam’s belly, Molly reached back and casually toyed with his ears as I explained the theory that Agent Harris had slipped the jump drives into Tony’s pocket.

  “Okay.” Sam smiled, reached for a cigar. “That explains it.” He pulled the plastic wrapping off. “You know what I think? I think that poor girl mistook Tony for Eli.”

  So I wasn’t the only one.

  “Knowing Eli, he was probably involved in this. I’m thinking he was her intended contact and she confused him with Tony.”

  I sat down on the sofa as, on television, Radar announced incoming wounded. What Sam said wasn’t a new idea. But I listened closely as he elaborated.

  “I mean, come on, Zoe. What do you think Eli’s doing in town?

  You think he’s really here because of your wedding?” Sam shook his head. “Don’t make me laugh. Eli couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his family. No offense, but he never did. He’s here for his own reasons. No doubt some underground, undercover espionage thing. Trust me, Eli’s involved in this. And I’m guessing the reason that poor broad just ‘happened’ to show up on this doorstep was that Eli gave her Nick’s address as his local base of operations. Maybe even as their drop point.”

  Base of operations? Drop point? Sam rearranged Molly and shifted the recliner to an upright position.

  “Point is”—Sam slipped the gold paper ring off his cigar—“that broad knew Eli would be coming to this address. She knew his brother lives here. And you know what else? Here’s the way I see it: She thought Tony was Eli. She thought she’d completed her mission. Slipping those things to Tony, she thought she’d made the drop to Eli. That’s my theory.” Sam twirled the cigar, wheezing and out of breath.

  What he said confirmed my own thoughts. I’d mistaken Eli for Tony myself. And Eli’s connection to Nick might have brought both the agent and Eli here; his late-night visit might not, as he’d claimed, been merely to take pictures and meet Luke. Eli might have been here primarily to search for the jump drives. But the question remained: If Agent Harris thought she’d given the drives to Eli, why did she return to the house? Had she learned that she’d mistaken the brothers? Or was there some other reason, other data—or maybe a warning she needed to pass along? Or, oh God, maybe her body had been left here as a sign that the killers knew she’d been here and left the drives here—

  “So? What do you think is on them?” Sam tousled Molly’s hair, causing giggles. “Drug stuff? Names of cartel leaders—or maybe of infiltrators? You know, government informants? Could be dates of drug shipments or lab locations. Or wait—maybe it’s not about drugs. Maybe it’s about terrorists. Homeland Security after all. Maybe it’s some plot they’ve put together, and who all’s involved, you know, the what do you call them—cell members?”

  I bit my lip. The suggestions were unnerving. “We have no idea. It could be anything.”

  “It could be weapons, too,” Sam went on. “Maybe bio-weapons, like that anthrax stuff. Or like on that TV show with what’s-his- name? A mini-nuke? Could be about a dirty bomb—”

  “Sam, please.” He was scaring me. A dirty bomb? “There’s no point in trying to guess—”

  “Yeah—that could be it.” Sam chewed his cigar. “A plot to explode a dirty bomb on U.S. soil—”

  “Why would you say something like that?” He was alarming me. He had no reason to assume that the drives contained information like that. And the idea was too awful to think about.

  “Stop it, Sam.” I was annoyed. “For all we know, the data’s completely nonviolent. It could be about crooked financial records or stealing from a pension fund. Or the vice president’s secret love affairs. Not everything is about terrorists or dirty bombs.”

  Sam eyed me, eyes laughing. “You think? Well, you might be right.” He stuffed his cigar into his mouth, chewed on it. “But my money’s on terrorists. A plan to attack us, maybe a suitcase nuke.”

  “For God’s sake, Sam.”

  “I’m serious.” He twisted one of Molly’s curls. “See, in my mind, nobody’s going to off a federal agent for the sake of a sex life or a pension plan.”

  Oh dear. I had no rebuttal.

  “Well”—he leaned back, relaxing—“for us at least, it’s over. Nobody’s going to bother Tony or you or the house or my car anymore; the FBI has the data.”

  Was he serious? The government may have the jump drives and whatever data was on them, but whoever killed the FBI agent was most likely not part of the government. And the people who hired that killer would mostly likely not know that the jump drives were in government hands; they would still be hunting for them. Tony would still be in danger.

  “But what about Tony?” Apparently Sam hadn’t considered that. “Those guys have been calling and threatening him.”

  “I’m sure Nick or the FBI will protect him.”

  “But for how long? A couple of days?”

  Sam lifted Molly off his lap and set her on her feet. “Molly, go ask Anna when dinner’s going to be ready. I’m famished.”

  As she scampered out of the room, he leaned forward. “This is harsh, Zoe. But in the scope of things, even though we love him, Tony’s just one person. One person—no matter who—is not that important. Who knows what we’re dealing with here? What if I’m right? What if these guys aren’t working drugs or counterfeiting hundred-dollar bills or conducting your everyday kind of criminal activity? What if they are terrorists, working with something bad like a dirty bomb? Tell me. How important is any one of us, in the case of an atomic weapon?”

  And there they were again, those words: dirty bomb, atomic weapon. What was with Sam? Why was he persisting, almost insisting on that particular possibility? Did he know something? Or was he simply trying to upset me?

  “Sam, you keep talking about dirty bombs. Out of the entire universe of information that could be on the drives. Why not anthrax or chemical poisoning or whatever? Why dirty bombs?”

  He looked at me. “I d
on’t know. It’s common knowledge that there’s enriched uranium to be had out there. There’s been talk of dirty bombs since 9/11. I didn’t say anything for sure. I just said it could be that. But it could be something entirely—”

  Molly skipped into the room, drowning out the end of his sentence. “Anna says dinner’s ready and we should go sit down.”

  “Good. Smells terrific.” Sam excused himself to wash his hands. “Did you wash up, Molls?” I reached for her hands. “Of course.” She held them up for inspection, a question on her face. “Mom?” Her voice was somber. “What’s a dirty bomb?”

  SIXTY-ONE

  “WHAT, YOU DON’T know? A sophisticated chick like you?” Sam stepped out of the powder room, rescuing me.

  Molly blinked at him.

  “A dirty bomb is a Broadway show that has so many bad words in it that nobody wants to see it.”

  “No, it’s not.” Molly wasn’t fooled.

  “It’s not?” Sam chuckled, wheezing. “Then you tell me. What do you think it is?”

  Molly looked up at me, wanting the truth. “Mom. Tell me.”

  I hesitated, squeezing her hand. “It’s a—”

  “It’s what I said.” Sam was insistent now, as if daring me to contradict him. “And it’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s just a term.”

  A term?

  “Hey, Molly,” Sam went on. “What do you say to a blue elephant?”

  Molly ignored him and kept looking at me, waiting for me to answer her. I tried never to lie to her, but I didn’t want my six-year- old daughter to have to deal with the dangers of nuclear warfare or terrorists. “A dirty bomb might be part of a case Nick’s working on, Molls. Police business, nothing for us to worry about.” There. Well done. That was true. Sort of.

  Molly seemed satisfied. “Anna said to tell you she’s ready to go home.” She scampered back toward the kitchen.

  I changed Luke and, while we ate, he gurgled in his portable rocker and the rest of us sat around the dining room table, going through the motions of a normal family having a normal meal. As we ate, Sam regaled us with entertaining and fascinating facts. Did Molly know, for example, that the reason Prussian soldiers had buttons on their sleeves was not for decoration or utility but to prevent them from wiping their noses there? Unfortunately, Molly’s reaction of “Ewww” encouraged Sam, who proceeded to share even grosser shards of history. But I didn’t complain. Sam was doing me a favor, keeping Molly occupied, allowing me to force a few bites of meat loaf down my throat. And when dinner was finished, Sam engaged Molly in clearing the table, announcing that they would do the dishes together, leaving me on my own. And, on my own, I wandered from room to room, closing blinds, lowering shades, locking windows. Whoever had mugged Tony had warned him that they’d be back, and that there would be dire consequences if he didn’t hand over what they wanted. Where were Tony and Nick? What was keeping them so long? I picked up Luke, carried him with me from room to room, feeling locked inside the house, a prisoner, or maybe a guard.

  The phone rang when Luke and I were circling my bedroom, and hoping it was Nick, I grabbed it.

  “Zoe, I hope today was as good for you as it was for me.” Susan’s voice purred, relaxed, teasing.

  What? It took a moment to remember what she was referring to. Oh, the spa. “Yes, it was. It was great. Thanks again.” How was I supposed to discuss spa days and massages when terrorists might be coming after my family? Not to mention attacking the city?

  “Oh dear. We’re in that kind of mood again. Today was supposed to relax you. I guess it didn’t last long.”

  “No. Really. It did. Today was wonderful.” My voice contradicted my words.

  Susan sighed. “Okay, spill. What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You know, it’s normal to have pre-wedding jitters. Trust me. I had them, too. But you’ll be fine—”

  “Susan, it’s not jitters.” Why had I said that? Let her think it was jitters.

  Susan waited a second. “Okay. Then what is it?”

  And without thinking, without hesitating, I told her. I set Luke down on the bed and sat beside him, telling her what she already knew and what she didn’t. About Bryce Edmond and Bonnie Osterman, about Tony’s mugging, about the jump drives and the dead agent. I didn’t mention the idea of a dirty bomb or the presence of Eli because, before I got to them, Susan interrupted.

  “Wait; I’m confused.” Susan sounded completely lost. “Who are you saying killed the agent? Your patient from the Institute who cuts women’s bellies? Or terrorists who thought she swallowed the jump drives? Or somebody from Homeland Security?”

  But Susan had missed the point. “It doesn’t matter who did it, Susan. Whoever killed her, those muggers still want the jump drives. They told Tony they’d be back. They beat him and threatened him. But he can’t give them the drives because Nick took the drives to the FBI—”

  “Calm down, Zoe.”

  Was she kidding? “Are you kidding?”

  “It won’t help to get nervous.” She sounded nervous. “Look, maybe you guys should get out of there. Doesn’t Sam have a suite at the Four Seasons? Couldn’t you stay there?”

  “I guess. But we couldn’t stay there forever.”

  “This won’t last forever—you have just a couple days until the wedding. And then Tony will be leaving, so whoever is bothering him will have to let up.”

  “No. The wedding isn’t going to change anything, not anything this big, and besides …” I paused, not ready to say it out loud.

  “Besides what?”

  “I’m thinking of postponing the wedding.” There. I’d said it.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “But I am.”

  She exhaled, loudly. Kind of a snort.

  “Say something.”

  “Zoe, look. I don’t know what to say. That is the single most stupid, most irresponsible, most incomprehensible, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say—”

  “No, it’s not. Susan. People are getting killed here, being hit by cars, beaten up and threatened. My house is invaded and ransacked. My kids are in danger. How can I in good conscience put on a lacy gown and act like everything’s just peachy—”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you how. You just do it. And you can because not to means to give in to them and to fear. You can because you can’t let the bad guys—whoever they are—interfere with your life or your family. You can because you owe it to Nick, not to mention to his brothers, who’ve come here for the ceremony. And to me, who’s bought a very expensive hotter-than-you-can-imagine matron-of- honor dress. And to Anna, who’s poured her soul into this affair. And to Molly, who’s going to be an amazing flower girl. And to all your guests and friends who are—”

  “Okay, you can stop.” She didn’t get it. “I didn’t say I’d decided anything. I just wanted to warn you. In case.”

  “Zoe, just remember you’ve already postponed this wedding because of your pregnancy.”

  She was right. Nick and I had waited to get married because the pregnancy had been high risk; I’d been on bed rest with Luke for four months.

  “Luke deserves to have married parents.”

  “We’re going to get married.” She was trying to make me feel guilty. “It’s just a matter of when.”

  She hesitated. I could almost hear her thinking. “What does Nick say about this?”

  Well, he hadn’t said anything. He had not a clue. “We still have to talk.”

  “Oh God, Zoe. Don’t even mention it to Nick. Don’t do it. He’ll be hurt. It’s bad karma, plain and simple. I get it. You’re overwhelmed with what’s going on, but don’t postpone your wedding. Just don’t.”

  She was still talking when I heard Nick and Tony come in. I could hear Nick, asking Molly where her mom was, heard her tell him I was upstairs with Luke.

  “Susan, I’ve got to go. Call you later.”

  I hung up and lay on my bed beside Luke, stroking his c
heek, listening to him coo, hearing Nick’s footsteps coming up the steps, waiting for him to join us.

  SIXTY-TWO

  “WE STUCK AROUND TO make sure they were going to the right guys. I gave it to Schultz myself.”

  Schultz? Was I supposed to know who that was?

  “He’s attached to Homeland Security, a computer genius for the FBI, works with security and encryptions.” Nick took his shoes off, sat on the bed. “He came up from D.C., and he wanted to talk to Tony. It’s a good thing Tony came with me. They spent quite a while together, working out a plan. That’s what took so long.”

  “Susan thinks we should go to a hotel.” I felt Luke’s breath on my hand, smelled his sweetness.

  Nick stretched out opposite me, our baby between us. “Okay. I give up. Why?”

  Was he being deliberately obtuse? “Nick. Those guys threatened Tony’s life. And they’re going to be back—”

  “Shhh.” He reached out, put his hand on my cheek. He was trying to be soothing. “Listen, Zoe. If people like that want to find you, they’ll find you in a hotel just as easily as they will at home.”

  Great.

  “And there’s safety in numbers. We’ve already made arrangements so that you and the kids are never alone. There are always at least three people here. And, remember, these guys have already been here. They tossed the place and didn’t find what they wanted. I doubt they’re coming back—they’re relying on Tony to get them what they want.”

  “But they said they’d—”

  “They wanted to scare him.”

  For some reason, Nick’s opinion didn’t comfort me. I put my arm around Luke, shielding him from something unseen. Nick covered my arm with his hand.

  “Zoe. No one is going to attack our house.”

  Our house? He’d called it ours. I needed to go on. “Maybe not. But there’s something else.” I paused; he watched me, waiting. “I was thinking that, what with everything that’s happened …” I looked at him, hoping he’d pick up my sentence and finish it for me. But he didn’t. He waited. I started again.