by Leann Harris
“We were discussing Mr. Hays and why you think he’s breaking the law.”
“His attitude. He didn’t give a damn I was a cop. The guy was sure of his rights, knew the legal angles and what I could legally do and couldn’t. Now, there are three types of people who know that kind of information. Cops and lawyers are two of them, and I think we can rule out those options.”
“And the third kind?”
“Jerks who have been arrested countless times. Mr. Hays definitely falls into that category.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Luke was right. She hadn’t liked Mr. Hays and felt there was something not quite kosher about the guy. Score one for the cop.
“All right, I’ll concede that Mr. Hays is a questionable character.”
Luke snorted.
“But,” she continued, ignoring his rude outburst, “while you were locking horns with Mr. Hays, the security guard told me something interesting.”
“Oh, what was that?”
She relayed her conversation with the older man.
“That’s some good detective work, Counselor.”
His praise astounded her. She never would’ve expected him to acknowledge her skill, let alone compliment it.
Gwen’s new apartment was a modest building west of the capitol complex. The woman who let them into the unit had the same bad attitude as Donald Hays.
“I don’t know what it is with you police. Can’t you just see the place once and get your business done?” She unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open. Her gasp of outrage brought Luke and J.D. rushing into the room.
“Look at this mess!” the woman cried. “It wasn’t like this when I let in that other policeman.”
The apartment looked much like J.D.’s office had after it had been ransacked.
“Do you remember the officer’s name?” Luke asked.
“No. Who remembers that kind of stuff? Well, when Gwen gets back, I’ll tell her what happened, but I’m not going to clean this up.”
Luke and J.D. looked at each other.
“Mrs. Wilson, Gwen was killed two weeks ago,” J.D. quietly said.
The woman put her hands on her hips, obviously outraged. “Why didn’t the other policeman tell me? I could’ve started looking for another renter.”
So much for the milk of human kindness, J.D. thought, eyeing the other woman, who was dressed in a housecoat and curlers.
“When we’re finished, ma’am, we’ll lock up.” Luke ushered the woman to the door. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
J.D. sighed, discouraged by the mess. “How are we going to find anything in this chaos?”
“We do a systematic search. I’ll take this room and the kitchen. You take the bedroom and bathroom. Work from one side of the room to the other. It’s simple.”
Forty minutes later she didn’t think it was as simple as Luke made it out to be. She’d gone through Gwen’s dresser, nightstands, closet. All she found out was Gwen had expensive tastes. Her few pieces of jewelry were the real thing—gold and diamonds.
J.D. walked into the living room. Luke was seated at the French provincial desk. She tried not to laugh at the sight of Luke’s large frame overpowering the delicate chair. “Did you find anything?”
He glanced up. “Sure did.” He tapped the checkbook and bank statement on the desk top. “Gwen Kennedy worked for the liquor lobby. See, here are the check stubs from her paychecks. But if you look at her bank statements, her monthly deposits were nearly twice as large as her paycheck. I can’t find any record of the payments, who they were from, but I think that extra money might be the key we need to know what Gwen was involved with.”
“She didn’t record them in her checkbook?”
“Only the amount. Not who they were from.”
“Isn’t it on the bank statement?”
“No, just the amount of deposits. No other notations.”
J.D. leaned against the desk and picked up a pay stub. “At least the liquor lobby address is here.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No, except that Gwen had expensive taste.”
“Which she could support. The question is how did she do that?” Luke stood, folded his hands behind his head and stretched. His shirt pulled tight across his chest, outlining his well-defined muscles. J.D.’s awareness of him went up another ten notches.
“Did you search the bathroom?”
“Huh, no.” Witty response, J.D. You sound like a junior high school girl with her first case of puppy love.
“The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go question Gwen’s employer.”
She hurried into the bathroom, frustrated with her sophomoric behavior. Again, Gwen demonstrated her taste for money with her selection of cosmetics. Her brand of makeup couldn’t be bought at the local discount store. It was sold only at elegant salons and exclusive department stores.
J.D. pulled out a vanity drawer and glanced at the collection of lip pencils and eye shadows. She was about to close the drawer when she remembered a comment made by a friend who was a private investigator. Check the outside of drawers. She complied, checking the bottom, back and outside of the drawer. Nothing. On impulse, she ran her hand over the inside frame of the cabinet. Bingo. Something round and metal was taped to the wooden frame.
“Ah-ha,” she said triumphantly, prying it loose.
“What did you find?” Luke said from the doorway.
Startled, she jerked her hand up, smashing it into the frame. Why on earth was she so nervous?
“I don’t appreciate you sneaking up on me, McGill.” She thought her voice held the proper amount of censure. He leaned against the wall and gave her a wicked grin.
He didn’t utter a word, but his eyes teased her. So we’re back to McGill again? “What did you find?”
She unclenched her hand and looked at her treasure. “A roll of film.”
He took it from her and shook it around in his hand. “A used roll of film.”
“That’s right. The question is why was it here, taped to the inside of the vanity?”
“She was hiding it from someone.”
J.D. had the sinking sensation he was right.
“We need to develop this. Maybe it will give us some answers.” He pocketed the roll. “I saw a pharmacy back a street that advertised one-hour film developing. Let’s go see what your client was hiding.”
* * *
J.D. sipped the last of her cola through the much-abused straw. She glanced up at the clock behind the counter. Their pictures would be ready in less than five minutes. Through the window, she could see Luke outside talking on the phone.
“Would you like another cherry cola?” the waitress asked.
“No. But this was delicious. It’s been years since I had a real fountain cherry cola.”
“Ms. Anderson,” the boy behind the counter called, “your pictures are ready.”
J.D. paid the youth, took the envelope and joined Luke. He hung up the phone and motioned her toward the car.
With shaking fingers, J.D. pulled out the pasteboard sleeve containing the pictures and negatives. Luke rested his arm on the seat back, braced his foot on the floorboard and leaned forward. J.D. felt trapped between his big body and the door. She was aware of every inch of him from the tousled brown hair to the tips of his boots. His well-worn jeans clung to his muscular thighs, allowing her to notice each time he flexed his foot.
His lips curled with a sensual promise that made her head light. And the look in his eyes told her he was aware of the attraction she felt for him and approved. The rat.
He tapped her shoulder. A shiver coursed across her shoulders and down her arms. “You going to look at the pictures or are you going to make me guess what’s in them?”
Her body went rigid in an effort to control her blossoming anger. A well-placed elbow would wipe that smug look from his face. “Since I don’t think you’re that good, I’ll show you the pictures.”
He thre
w his head back and laughed. “You’re wrong. I’m good.”
Ignoring his comment, she opened the yellow folder and pulled out the snapshots. She went through the twenty-four photos slowly. With each shot, she felt the muscles of her stomach tighten with revulsion. When she got to the last one, she let the others fall back into her lap. Her hands went limp at her sides.
The heavy silence in the car pressed in on her chest. What had Gwen been thinking to get involved in this garbage?
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “What you have there is a pretty damning set of pictures. You know those shots have only one purpose.” He looked pointedly at her.
She sighed. “Yes, I know. Blackmail.”
With his forefinger, Luke tapped the top picture. “I don’t recognize this old fool, but I can guarantee that shapely young lady in bed with him isn’t his wife.”
“He’s a state senator from somewhere in South Texas. I saw him interviewed last week on TV. He was talking about the bill taxing liquor sales.”
Luke went through the shots of the couple in different positions until he reached the shot of the state senator in a restaurant with three other men. “Do you recognize any of the other men at the table?”
“No.”
He flipped to the last picture. Only the senator and one man were in the shot. The senator was handing the man a brown envelope. “This is probably payment for the pictures on the beginning of this roll.”
J.D. gathered up the damning photos and slipped them into their package.
“I’d say your client was into some heavy-duty stuff, Counselor.”
“She admitted she was. But when she came clean, she said she was going to take a lot of people down with her. One of them must have found out what she was going to do and killed her.”
“I think you’ve got it right. The killer might be one of the men in these pictures.”
J.D.’s head jerked around. “Why do you say that?”
Luke mentally kicked himself. What was wrong with him to let his tongue run on like that? “We think that the boot print I was asking Kent Bradley about was left by the killer. A woman wouldn’t leave that big or heavy a print.”
“What about the call you made to the Austin police? Were they the ones who searched Gwen’s apartment?”
Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he shook his head. “Not according to the friend I called. As a matter of fact, Gwen hadn’t been reported as missing.”
“Probably the same guy who ordered my place searched had Gwen’s apartment gone over. Obviously, he’s looking for incriminating evidence.”
Luke agreed with J.D., but he thought it was probably the killer himself who went through Gwen’s things. The ransacking of J.D.’s office had been a hired job. “I asked my friend to send an evidence team over to Gwen’s to see if we could lift any usable prints and maybe identify this guy. That means you and I are going to have to be printed so the experts can eliminate ours from the others they find. We can stop by the station on the way to the capitol.”
* * *
The tall blond man stood and came around his desk, a wide smile on his handsome face. “Luke, it’s good to see you. How long has it been? Three, four years?”
Luke shook the man’s hand. “It’s been five years. I saw you at that workshop in Houston.”
“Ah, yes, Houston. My, my, we did have a good time. Who is this gorgeous creature with you? You haven’t gotten married, have you?”
Luke choked with horror, his eyes going wide. “Hardly. J.D. Anderson, I’d like you to meet an old friend, Detective Craig Winston.”
Craig took J.D.’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am. Luke certainly has improved in his taste in companions.”
This was going from bad to worse. Luke wanted to stuff a sock down Craig’s throat.
“Down, boy,” Luke said. “J.D. is an attorney. A defense attorney who likes to eat cops for breakfast.”
Craig studied Luke, then J.D. “I can’t believe you have it in for all cops.”
Luke waited for J.D. to cut Craig’s overblown ego down to size with one of her razor-sharp comments. Instead she gave him a beguiling smile. Was J.D. Anderson flirting? The idea struck Luke as hard as a punch to the gut.
“How perceptive of you, Detective.” Her voice was smooth, rich, sexy. Luke gritted his teeth. “Actually, I have nothing against the police. It’s illegal search and seizure, coerced confessions and undue force that I object to.” Her throaty words sounded like an invitation instead of the censure they were intended to be.
“See, Luke, the lady is reasonable.”
He gaped at Craig, who was usually able to pick out a lie at a hundred paces. Why couldn’t he see J.D.’s criticism? It was obvious Craig couldn’t get past the lady’s beauty.
“Depends on which side of the witness stand you see her from,” he grumbled, his exasperation starting to show.
Craig slapped Luke on the back. “Lighten up, buddy. Now, why don’t you fill me in on the details of the case that brought you two reluctant allies to Austin.” Craig grabbed a chair from one of the other desks in the room and set it beside his desk. “Please, sit.”
“Thank you, Craig,” J.D. said, settling into the chair.
Luke nearly gagged at her saccharine sweetness. What was going on here? Had he missed something?
“Are you going to sit, Luke?” Craig asked.
“Where?” Luke asked, glancing around Craig’s desk. There were no other chairs.
Pointing to the next desk, Craig said, “Take Mike’s chair.”
Luke jerked the chair from under the desk, setting it by J.D’s. With a few words, he outlined what had happened. “Show him the pictures, J.D. See if he knows any of the people.”
She surrendered the package. Craig took his time studying the photos. “Looks like you got yourself a blackmail ring.” Finally he was all business.
“That was my conclusion.” Luke pinched the bridge of his nose.
“The old guy is Elliot Reynolds. I can’t identify the others. Sorry.” He held up one shot where the woman’s face was clearly captured. “I wouldn’t mind meeting her. Of course, it would probably cost me a lot of money.”
“You think she’s a prostitute?” J.D. asked.
Craig held up his hands. “It’s anyone’s guess. If you leave one of these pictures here, I’ll show it around vice, see if anyone knows her. Anything else?”
“We need you to take our fingerprints for comparison purposes.”
“No problem.” Craig stood. “Step this way.”
A wild thought sprang to life in Luke’s brain. Did he dare do it? Oh, yes. He leaned toward Craig. “Do me a favor,” he said quietly.
“Sure.”
“Let me do the prints on the lady. I’ve always fantasized about booking her.”
One blond brow arched and a knowing smile broke across Craig’s face. “That’s what I thought, McGill. You’ve been bit. It’s kind of funny, considering who she is.”
The comment hit Luke hard, and he drew back. “You’re wrong, old friend.”
“You think so?”
* * *
J.D. wiped the ink from her fingers. “This was a set-up, McGill. I don’t believe for a second that Detective Winston had an emergency and that there was no one else in this entire station who could’ve taken my prints.”
He gave her his most innocent look. “What can I say? I just lived out my fondest dream?”
Stepping closer, she whispered in her most seductive voice, “If I lived out my most cherished dream...” She wet her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
“Someone else would be booking me for murder. Yours, Detective. But it might be worth it.”
When she tried to move away, he grasped her shoulders. “Counselor, you need better fantasies. And I’ll volunteer to help you.”
She jerked away. “Forget it, McGill. Now, don’t we have some people we need to interview?”
What a pity, he thought as he watched
her walk away. Because he was sure he could help improve her fantasies.
CHAPTER 7
J.D. closed the car door and buckled her seat belt. Imagine Luke trying to teach her about fantasies. He didn’t strike her as a man who had much of a creative bent to his life. Opera, plays, the symphony weren’t within Luke’s realm.
Of course, the fantasies he was talking about were a little earthier, and she didn’t doubt that he could show her numerous things she hadn’t dreamed.
She turned her head to stare out the side window. What was the matter with her? She didn’t want to think of Luke in any way other than as a hostile cop. Unfortunately, she was beginning to have all sorts of crazy thoughts about him. She wondered how it would feel to be wrapped in his strong arms, to have those wonderful whiskey-colored eyes darken with passion just before his lips met hers.
The car door slamming jerked her out of her wanderings. She jumped, and a guilty stain flooded her cheeks. She was grateful that he couldn’t read minds.
“Where do you want to go first? Gwen’s office or her fiancé’s?”
Suddenly she could hear that deep voice whispering tantalizing suggestions into her ear. Whoa, girl!
She glanced at him, and the broad grin on his face made her wonder if he could read minds. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Let’s try Hal Weston’s office first. Craig said that Weston’s office was on the way to the capitol.”
“You’re the investigator here. I’ll trust your judgment.”
The look of shock on his face made her want to laugh. “Would you care to repeat that?”
“I don’t mind admitting you’re the expert here. Part of being good, McGill, is knowing when someone else can do the job better than you.”
Approval shone in his eyes. “Sometimes it’s hard not to admire you, Counselor.”
“But you’ll give it your best shot.”
He threw his head back and his rich laughter filled the car. “You got it.”
Hal Weston’s office was in a new high-rise building next to the capitol. Luke gritted his teeth as he took in the upscale decor, from the carpeted hallways to the numbered prints and leather chairs in the lobby. He hated places like this, where the residents thought they could buy anything they wanted. Including justice.