December Frost (A Southern Romance Monthly)

by CJ Hockenberry

  His eyes widened as well when he recognized her. "You're…a cop?"

  Cecelia narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. Surprised? And you're a thief. Kick the gun away and get on your knees."

  "Look, you've got to let me explain. This isn't what it looks like—"

  "I said—" she took in a deep breath, very aware the motion thrust her breasts out. The gesture had the correct effect. The man stumbled and blinked at her, his gaze fixed on her chest. "Kick the gun away or I'll fix your little rooster problem." She lowered her aim.

  "Wow…that…is sexy…"

  Not quite the reaction she was going for. But he did do as she asked and she realized real fast–she didn't have any handcuffs.

  Crap.

  Instead she kept aim with her right hand and pressed the radio button. "Saxx?"

  "They're on their way up. You good?"

  "I caught him. I need the backup."

  "Roger!"

  "You don't have any handcuffs," the asshole said as he remained on his knees.

  "Put your hands on your head."

  "I'm not kidding, Miss—" He leaned forward, as if waiting for her to give him a name.

  "Detective Cecelia Inzmann. And that's all you get Mister—" She repeated his action.

  "Carr. Thomas Carr. And you'll find my wallet in my pants pocket. In it is my ID."

  "I'll wait for backup."

  "It's not a driver's license, Detective. It's a Private Detective license."

  Right. She smirked. "I'm not falling for it."

  "No…I guess not." The entire time he talked his gaze moved up and down, taking in her entire figure. "You really are quite lovely."

  "Shut up, Mr. Carr."

  "I'm not the thief, Cecelia."

  "Detective."

  "I'm the one looking for the thief. They were here to steal that statue—" he nodded to a small statue of a little girl and a dog.

  "That?" It looked like something she'd buy at Walmart.

  "Trust me. It's priceless. I was hired to find him and stop him from stealing—"

  The door burst open in and about a dozen uniformed officers stepped in. Saxx approached Mr. Carr and immediately cuffed him. "Hey Saxx…read him his rights. I wast too busy listening to him defend himself."

  "Right Cece." He went over the Miranda rights just as an older guy and two women in nice clothing came in and were stopped.

  "Oh no!" The older man said. "Did they take it?"

  "Take what?"

  "The La petite fille de fleur!"

  Cecelia lowered her arm and worked at her shoulders. "You mean the girl and the dog? No…he was about to take it, but I think he knocked something over." She pointed to the shattered statue.

  "Oh…as long as the La petite fille de fleur is safe!" One of the women said. "Oh thank you, thank you detective!" The woman gushed where she stood.

  "You're welcome?" Cecelia turned her head to the left, then the right. Her neck hurt and now her feet wanted a hot soak. Looking down at her dress, she was happy she hadn't ripped it. It was a good dress!

  "Hey Inzmann."

  She turned to see her Captain walking through the door. He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing at the precinct. "Hey Captain D." The man's name was Rutger Dee. Captain Dee. It just cracked Cecelia up most of the time. "Why are you here?"

  He pointed to her gun. "I'm the one that approved your entry into the museum. Good thing too." He and Cecelia watched as the officers escorted the handcuffed hottie out of the room.

  "Why?" Cecelia hated to see the good looking man go. Another beautiful piece of work would now be lost in the penal system.

  "Because I just heard you caught the notorious Phantom."

  Cecelia blinked. "I did?"

  Holy—

  CHAPTER SIX

  She was a cop.

  That realization kept ringing in his brain. He was more shocked about that, than getting arrested. He'd been arrested before, and like those times, once they got his ID and checked with his employer, the charges would be dropped and he'd be released.

  But after being shoved into the back of an Atlanta Police black and white, he had time to go back over what had happened.

  The guy in the hoodie turned out to be a lot more nimble, and trickier than he expected. And small. Thomas had been small and never learned to use his stature quite as well as this guy.

  He'd managed get his gun up first and fire before the Phantom did, but before he could pull the trigger again, the man was gone. Thomas had stepped forward from his place of refuge and approached the statue. It was where it was supposed to be, but on the floor beside it was a suit jacket identical to his own.

  So the guy had been moving among the guests before he came up here. And no one knew what he looked like.

  He heard the sound of a zipper a second before the shot. Luckily he ducked in time as the glass case behind him shattered and the ceramic piece inside was destroyed. Thomas turned and caught sight of the hoodie and fired.

  A noise behind him made him spin and he came face to face with Phantom.

  The hoodie was still up, the jeans, and sneakers, all in place. But where a face should be, there was just one of those smooth, white masks. Thomas hated those things. The only thing he could see was the man's eyes.

  But the shadows from the hoodie made it impossible to tell the color.

  "You have failed again, Thomas Carr. This is good bye." The man ducked as Thomas fired.

  And then he was gone behind one of the pedestals. The other door across the room was closing so he took off after it.

  That's where she came in.

  His gorgeous brunette in the black dress of his dreams. Only she had a gun. And a badge. And wow had she looked sexy. He had visions of using her handcuffs in so many interesting ways. But then as he came back to himself and realized his predicament in the back of the squad car—he doubted she'd even give him the time of day again.

  Twenty minutes later he was walked upstairs and placed in a holding cell and handcuffed to a bench with six other questionable people. He figured…half an hour, tops.

  Four hours later, with a numb ass and an irritated disposition, his arresting officer—Saxx something?—showed up and took him to a room with a table, two chairs, and a microphone. He was handcuffed to the table and left there.

  Why was it taking so long for his employer to get him out?

  After another half hour, a tall man in a suit and the hot Detective Inzmann stepped into the room and closed the door. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and to his surprised, she eyed him as well.

  Though…she was eying him like a piece of spoiled meat.

  "I am Captain D, and you've already met Detective Inzmann."

  Captain D? Was this guy for real?

  "Mr. Thomas Carr, a.k.a. Jeffry Mason, a.k.a. Timothy Richter, a.k.a., The Phantom."

  Thomas sat back and blinked several times. "My name is Thomas Carr. I've never gone by any of those names, and I am not the Phantom."

  "Really?" The man sat down in a chair, but Inzmann leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't wearing the dress anymore. She'd changed into jeans, a shirt and a killer bomber jacket. She looked even sexier covered up. "We found your suit jacket at the scene. And it had several passports in it, including one for Thomas Carr. All of them had your picture. It also contained an interesting flash drive. Cracking it wasn't easy, but we managed." He sat forward and clasped his fingers together. "We found your records, your notes, the numbers for your Swiss bank accounts. You've been a busy man, Mister Phantom. Seven thefts of priceless artwork in two years. And this is the first time you've ever been caught."

  Thomas shook his head slowly. "No. I am not the Phantom. I was hired by a Professor Ludlum Taylor of Georgetown University to make sure the La petite fille de fleur wasn't stolen. He had intel that it was the Phantom's next target."

  Captain D glanced back at Inzmann and the two of them shared a secret smile. "Mister Phantom, we contacted the P
rofessor. He insists he's never heard of any Thomas Carr or the other names you've gone by. But he did tell us that an item was stolen from him by the Phantom. A painting worth a hundred million. And he's willing to file charges, along with the curator at the High."

  "I did not steal anything!" He was losing his cool here. He didn't understand why the Professor would deny knowing him. He never had before. Unless they were lying. "Oh…you two are good. You haven't called the Professor. You're testing me. I know how interrogations work. Check my prints. I am who I say I am."

  "We're running your prints now." He stood and moved to the door. "So you'll be with us a while, Mister Phantom."

  "I want to see a lawyer."

  "We can arrange that." Captain D opened the door and held it out for Inzmann.

  Thomas stared up at her from where he sat. "Can I talk to you?"

  She pursed her thick, beautiful lips and shrugged. "Okay. Captain?"

  "Yeah, we'll be recording so it doesn't matter." He left the room.

  Detective Inzmann took the seat the Captain vacated. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  "I need you to find the Phantom."

  "You're the Phantom."

  "No. I'm not." He licked his lips and thought quickly. "Do a bit of history on the Phantom. Never caught. Never identified. Never seen. For two years. If I'm the Phantom, how come you found me so easy?" He held out his cuffed hands and gestured for her to come closer.

  When she hesitated he said in a low voice. "I'm handcuffed. I can't and wouldn't hurt you. But what I want to tell you is for you."

  She pursed her lips. He loved looking at her mouth, and thought about running his thumb over it. He was sure her lips were like velvet. "All right." She stood and leaned over the table. This of course put her cleavage in his face.

  When he noticed it and stumbled, she smirked. "You got five seconds, Phantom."

  Thomas got hold of himself and closed his eyes. Best way to avoid the boobs. He lowered his voice enough so he knew it wouldn't register on the room's microphones. "As a detective, wouldn't you find it odd that you just happen to catch me running out of a room? I fought with the Phantom. I had him right there, but he got away from me. I have a rental car. In that car are my case-files and my laptop. It has the emails from the Professor. I also have a tablet tucked under the passenger's seat. It's cloned to my laptop so everything is there as well, just in case the computer gets stolen. My key is with my things—they took it when I was brought in. It also has my house key on it."

  She didn't say anything. But she was watching him. When she moved to stand, he reached over and managed to touch her fingers with his. "Please. I am not the Phantom, but if you convict me of being the Phantom, then he'll get away. He's setting me up."

  She didn't move her hand from his and narrowed her eyes. "Why? Why would he do that?"

  "Because I've been on his trail for the past year and a half and I was getting close. Look at what I did tonight—I actually caught him—" Thomas stopped as a few puzzle pieces fell into place. "Wait a minute. He already knew…he knew where I was. He knew I was in the room with him. In fact he knew what flight I'd be on."

  "How would he know that?"

  Thomas lowered his shoulders in defeat. "I don't know. This night's not going the way I wanted it to."

  "And how was that?"

  "Oh you know…catch the thief…get the girl." He looked at her. Detective Inzmann didn't look away. "I guess that won't happen now will it?"

  "Depends." She pulled her hand away and stood. "Have a good night, Mister Phantom."

  Thomas's hopes dashed against the room's fake mirror. She didn't believe him. He could only hope when the prints came back, they would show him to be who he said he was. If not…this was the best theft the Phantom had ever done.

  He'd stolen his life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cecelia sat at her desk, staring at the ID file on Thomas Carr.

  Who ever it was, it wasn't the guy in holding. Thomas Carr wasn't as good looking. The rest of the information could have been the same. Six foot one, brown hair, green eyes, two hundred pounds. His address was a local one, not far from the precinct. Maybe a few blocks.

  As the night wore on into morning and she continued to stare at the photo, fellow detectives, uniformed officers, staff, all of them came and congratulated her on catching the notorious Phantom.

  Truth was…something in her gut said this guy wasn't it. Yeah he wasn't showing up in AFIS, and his face wasn't triggering anything in face recognition. Both of those would make sense if he were a thief.

  But the things he'd said to her. They hit some kind of cosmic bell. In fact, what he said made more sense than him actually being this infamous thief.

  Yeah her libido wanted him to be innocent because she wanted to do him in his cell.

  She blushed instantly at that thought. Not so much because of the brashness of it, but because it was true. She really….really…liked him.

  And if anyone got wind of her attraction, or figured it out, then any investigating she decided to do on her own would be compromised. She'd seen the movies, read the books, watched TV. All those romances between cops and thieves.

  It worked out on the screen, but in real life?

  And why the hell was she fantasizing about a man who could be guilty?

  Sheesh.

  "Hey…Inzmann. You didn't stay all night, did you?" Detective Jerry Keidis said as he approached his desk. His was behind hers. Neither of them had been assigned a new partner yet and she hoped like hell Captain D wouldn't put them together.

  Jerry was what Cecelia's brother called a Pension Counter. As a Medical Examiner, Lex had known a lot of police during his career and harped all the time about cops who didn't give a rat's ass about who was really guilty. As long as the evidence fit, and they could go home, then that's as far as they went.

  Jerry was a small guy, medium build. Cecelia was a good foot taller which irritated Jerry. That was obvious. There was a time he liked to make jokes about it, but she put that to rest about a month ago after humiliating him by winning an arm wrestling match. She'd been surprised how strong he was, and how often he tried to cheat by slipping his elbow off the table.

  But the detective watching the event caught him.

  They didn't like each other. Mutually.

  She didn't answer him and continued staring at the screen. Before he could look at it, she hide the database and picked up her phone.

  "So I hear you caught an important person. And you were wearing a one of your hooker dresses. Did you let him get a peek? That's how you got him?"

  Cecelia pressed a number in her contacts and put the phone to her ear. "Drop it, Jerry."

  "Why? You should be proud. I mean, you run in and catch him red handed, didn't you? Statue was saved and you're the flavor of the month."

  She turned and faced him. If there was one thing about Jerry Keidis, he was a pussy. A small man with a small penis. The biggest thing about him was his temper.

  Cecelia stared him down, waiting on the phone to ring.

  He stared back.

  Three…two…one…

  And he looked away. He took his coffee and went to his desk.

  "Georgia Crime Lab. Deb Proctor speaking."

  "Hey."

  "Well where the hell were you last night?"

  "I told you I had a case happen right there. Did you catch it?"

  "My assistant did. Still nothing on the suspect's finger prints. We came up with dozens of prints from the scene—I mean it is a museum. We've ruled out two sets, but they belonged to the Curator and his assistant." She lowered her voice. "Is it really that guy in line? The hottie in the nice suit?"

  "It's him. And he's still protesting he's innocent. I pulled up Thomas Carr. The photos don't match, but all the other info could be his. The address is nearby. In fact he told me—" Cecelia caught a movement to her right and turned. Jerry was walking away.

  Had he been standing beside he
r? Listening to her? What for?

  "Hey? What's wrong?"

  "Eh…Jerry."

  "Oh that creep. Did you know he was here this morning when I got in?"

  Cecelia sat up. "Keidis was?"

  "Yeah. Was asking me all kinds of questions about this guy. Wanted to know what I'd found."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "To kiss my ass and show me where he was the detective that collared him. I'm not required to show him any information. I couldn't figure out what he was looking for." Deb paused. "You don't think that's him, do you. That this guy's this notorious thief?"

  "No. I honestly don't. I mean, up until last night I've never heard of him. So I spent all night and this morning doing research. The guy's international. I mean Interpol couldn't catch him. So why is he in a small time museum in Atlanta, Georgia, lifting a small statue that has such a small value in comparison to what he's taken before—and he gets caught by me?"

  "You're selling yourself short." Deb laughed. "It's because you wanna fuck him, don't you?"

  Cecelia blushed and faced away from everyone. "Sshh…what the hell are you saying that for?"

  "Because of the way you both reacted to each other. What did he tell you? You started to tell me."

  Cecelia looked around. Jerry was gone but she didn't feel comfortable. She knew Mister Phantom would remain in holding until they got some kind of positive ID on him so stepping out wouldn't be a problem. Especially since she'd been there all night. "You got a break?"

  "Lunch break."

  "I'm going to give you an address. I want you to meet me there at noon." She gave Deb Thomas Carr's address.

  Once she disconnected, she printed out the ID profile she had on file and tucked it into her jacket pocket. She grabbed her gun, her badge and logged off her computer. If Jerry Keidis was that nosy, let him just sit and wonder.

  She had some questions to answer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Thomas sat alone in the holding cell, still handcuffed to the bench. He had a paperclip in his free hand and was working furiously on getting the handcuff off. After that—he wasn't sure how he was going to get out of the cell. He'd work on one thing at a time. He needed to pee, and he needed to get out of there. Something was very…very wrong.