Dirty Rotten Scoundrel (Romantic Mystery) (J.J. Graves Mysteries)

by Liliana Hart

  “He told me.” My lips twitched as I looked her in the eye. “Jack has had a lot of pasts.”

  She smiled and tipped her cup to me. “That he has. I wasn’t sure when I saw the two of you together that you were a good fit for him. He’s a good man and he deserves to be happy. To have someone who can give him that and understand him at the same time. Jack’s more complicated than he seems to most people.”

  “He certainly is.” I had no idea where this was going. I didn’t know if Lauren was about to make her pitch for why she would be better suited or suggest that I do what was best for Jack and bow out of the picture. I only knew that I really liked the kitchen and would hate to get blood on anything if I had to kill her.

  “He talked about you, you know? Back when we were together.”

  My eyebrows raised at that bit of information. Jack had never mentioned Lauren to me. Hadn’t even told me he was living with someone, and we’d been just as close then as we’d always been. Though our conversations had mostly been through email and phone calls. We’d been too busy to see each other much.

  “I was jealous if you want to know the truth. He always had stories about Jaye,” she said, smiling. “The things you did together or the practical jokes you played on each other. He worried about you living in the city alone and in the part of town where your apartment was. I heard the love in his voice every time he mentioned your name. I wanted that, and I hated you for it even though I’d never met you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. I could empathize with her. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if it were the other way around.

  She shrugged it away. “I realized after we moved in together that it wouldn’t work between us. Don’t get me wrong,” she grinned. “We were very compatible in certain ways. Jack is very—talented.”

  “You probably don’t want to go there.” I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Talented was an understatement.

  “But we were both too headstrong, and as you saw back there, we see things very differently. My career will always come first, and Jack may not realize it, but he needs the kind of person who will always put him first. And he’ll need to do the same to whoever he ends up with.”

  “Are you trying to scare me away or encourage me to stay?” I asked curiously.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little of both. Like I said, I wasn’t sure you were the one for him yesterday when I first saw you together. There was tension and something else standing between you. But I’ve been watching you together. I don’t even think you realize what you have. It’s like watching a dance whenever you’re in the same room together. You know what he wants and are able to give it to him before he does and vice versa. You have this unspoken communication and your bodies are in sync. You’re his world. I can see that now. The little touches or the looks he gives you when you don’t realize he’s watching. It’s a beautiful thing to see. And I find myself just as jealous of what you have now as what you had then. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. I truly hope you’re very happy.”

  The lump in my throat made it difficult to speak. I wasn’t sure I could have shown the same generosity and kindness if our positions had been reversed. “Thank you. I appreciate that very much. If it makes you feel better, I’m extremely jealous of your shoes.”

  She laughed and stuck out her leg so the icepick heel she seemed to prefer—this one in vivid red—could be seen. “They are pretty fabulous. And unlike men, shoes are never a disappointment. I actually came in here to talk about something else, though I guess I needed to get the other off my chest first.”

  “What is it?”

  “Jack is wasted here, you must know that.”

  “I do, but it’s Jack’s decision. He’ll make a change if he wants to and if he’s ready.”

  “The FBI has wanted him for years. There’s a reason he and Carver are such good buddies. They’ve been trying to recruit him for almost a decade. He’s been through several special training sessions at Quantico. His intelligence is very high and he has the physical skills as well.”

  “I thought he had issues with authority. Isn’t that bad in the FBI? No offense, but with the exception of Carver all these other agents seem like drones.”

  “There are many aspects of the FBI. Not everyone is cut from the same cloth. And they like agents who think outside the box—mostly. He belongs in the field. He’s too good at what he does.”

  “It’s not my decision, but I’ll support whatever choice he makes.”

  “But you could certainly help influence him. What if I told you there’s an opening in the medical examiner’s office in DC?”

  “I’d say that doesn’t have much to do with me. I’m not a licensed pathologist. I’m just a coroner with a medical degree.”

  “It’d be a training position while you got your certification. Full pay with benefits. Reliable pay.”

  She struck a chord there. To say my current position was reliable would be a lie. I was able to pay bills solely based on how many people died per month. And I had a lot of bills. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt from medical school.

  “And you’re suggesting all this out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “I never do anything out of the goodness of my heart. I’ve been accused more than once of not even having one. But what I am good at is my job. And I want the people I work with on a frequent basis to be good at their job too. Jack would be an asset to the agency. He’d be using his talents for something other than writing parking tickets for speeding livestock. Just think about it.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  She nodded and left to go back with the others. Did I want to work in the medical examiner’s office? Not particularly. I didn’t really enjoy working with the dead. I’d always preferred the living. But I didn’t hate it. And I knew I’d do it if Jack wanted to make the move and join the FBI. It was definitely something to think about.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “That was Greer,” Carver said, hanging up the phone a short time later. “Agents found the body of Greg Lassiter in the motel room Tydell was holed up in. A maid found him when she went in to clean. He was shot through the head with his own weapon. The gun was left on site, and they’re checking to see if it’s a match for Wallace, Santos, and Gonzales.”

  “That’s my cue to go,” Lauren said, gathering her briefcase. “I need to see the scene and see if there are any leads on the others.”

  “I thought you said there was a code of honor,” Wolfe said. “That they wouldn’t kill each other because there was a code.”

  “It looks like the rules changed.” Lauren waved goodbye and then left out the front door.

  Wolfe whistled and grinned. “She might be irritating, but she has some damn fine legs.”

  “I thought you had a girlfriend,” I said, remembering she’d been questioned after his disappearance.

  “Honey, I always have girlfriends, and Lawyer Rhodes is going to be added to the list.”

  “Fifty bucks says she turns him down flat,” Carver said.

  Jack’s head was buried in papers and it didn’t look like he was paying much attention. “That’s a sucker’s bet.”

  “You all forget that I’m wounded. Women love a guy that’s been hurt in the line of duty. She’ll be all over me.”

  “Like a rash,” I said dryly.

  “What have you got there, Jack?” Carver asked. I looked at Jack and realized he’d gotten very still as he read through one of the financial reports.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said. “The WMF sent payments for almost two years to Jane Elliott. And look here.” He picked up another stack of papers and highlighted the amounts. “Payments for six months sent to the mother of Adam Boxer. We’ll find both of their names on the member roster. I almost missed it because the payments were direct deposit on the fifteenth of the month, and it’s the exact same amount as her widow’s benefits, which she received on the first of ev
ery month. There’s no description of who the sender is, just a twelve digit numerical code. And the numerical code is one digit off from the code that the police department uses to make direct deposits. They’d have to have a hacker of some kind to get into the department payroll database and be able to set it up like that.”

  “Hackers leave signatures,” Carver said. “Let me see if I can work backwards and find out where it’s coming from.”

  “I need to talk to Jane Elliott again,” Jack said. “Dammit.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Goddammit.” He punched the wall hard enough for me to wince and wonder if he’d damaged his knuckles.

  “She could still be innocent in this, Jack,” I said, taking his hand and rubbing the sting out a bit. “If they came to her and offered her the money as a supplement why would she turn them down? A couple of years of payments would have gotten her back on her feet again, especially with all the medical bills she must have had during Katie’s treatments.”

  He squeezed my hand and nodded, but I could tell he didn’t really believe me. “I need to call her and set up a time to meet.”

  “Do you want me to do it?” Carver asked.

  “No, she knows me. Trusts me. And I’ll make sure she tells me everything.” He took his cell phone from his pocket and left the room to make the call.

  “This is going to be hard on him,” I said. “He’s felt responsible for her all these years because he was the one who pulled the trigger on her husband. If she’s involved in this I’m going to be really pissed.”

  Wolfe tried stretching and started to lift his arm and then winced.

  “Don’t do that,” I scolded. “You’ll tear your stitches. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got shot in the shoulder. It’s more irritating than anything. It’s my shooting arm, so that’s going to slow me down a little, but I’m proficient enough with my left hand.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well then, we should put you out on the front lines so you can prove your manhood.”

  “Sweetheart, I can prove my manhood right here and now if you’re that curious.”

  “Keep it in your pants, Wolfe,” Jack said, coming back in the room. “Once she starts laughing, it’s hard for her to stop.”

  “I’m probably going to have to punch you for that. Once I’m back to full strength of course.”

  “You can certainly try. Being a P.I. has probably turned you soft. I promise to put you down quickly and then we can go grab a beer.”

  “Helloo,” I said. “Can we get back on track here? Were you able to get hold of Jane?”

  “We’re supposed to meet her at 11:00 at Coastal Flats up in Fairfax. We need to get moving if we’re going to make it in time.”

  “Wait a second,” Carver said. “There aren’t any agents available to tail you at the moment. Let me make a call.”

  “We’ve got this. I know how to spot a tail and I’m armed.”

  “That’s not going to do any good against a sniper rifle. Especially if Jane Elliott is involved in this. She could have eyes on her already.”

  “If she’s got people watching her then that means she’s the one in danger. You know this has to be done and I’m the only one to do it.”

  Jack looked at me and started to say something, but I cut him off. “Don’t even think about it. I’m going with you. I happen to agree with Carver that you should wait for backup, but I know you and figure you’ll ignore me just as well as you ignore him.”

  “We’re going to be in a public place in the middle of the city. We’ll be fine and back in a few hours.”

  “Do me a favor and keep your line open when you meet,” Carver said. “If there’s trouble I can have agents from the nearby office there in minutes.”

  “Will do. Let’s go, Doc. You can watch my back.”

  “I’d rather watch your front, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.” Jack grinned and slung his arm around me while Wolfe and Carver laughed. I had a random thought as we headed toward the door.

  “Hey, Wolfe. Do you have the tattoo?”

  “I have many, but I’m assuming you mean the SWAT tattoo. The answer is yes. Each of us had it done as part of our initiation. You want to know where mine is?”

  “I’m sure it’s the same place as your manhood, but I don’t have time to look for that either.”

  Carver and Jack hooted out a laugh and Wolfe scowled. “Damn, woman. That’s just cruel. Why’d you want to know if you don’t want to see it?”

  “Because I just remembered that I didn’t see a tattoo on Caine. I looked over ever inch of those autopsy photos. Are you sure everyone got the tattoo?”

  “I know for a fact Caine got his. We came in at the same time. Did all of our testing together and were initiated at the same time. Remember, Jack?”

  “I remember,” Jack nodded. “Are you sure you didn’t see it anywhere? If I remember right Caine’s tattoo was just above his left shoulder blade.”

  I thought back to the autopsy photos, but I knew I wasn’t mistaken. “No, I’m sure. He didn’t have a tattoo anywhere. I’ll look closer when we get back and see if I see any scarring from a removal.”

  “What if he doesn’t have it?” Wolfe asked.

  “Then we need to deal with the possibility that maybe the body in those photos isn’t really Caine.”

  ***

  Eleven o’clock was a good time to meet at Coastal Flats. It was right at opening time in the middle of the week and the place wasn’t crowded like it would be in another hour or so. I spotted Jane as soon as we walked inside.

  If anything she looked even thinner than the last time I’d seen her. Her face was pale and her lips thin. I don’t know what Jack said to her over the phone, but she didn’t look particularly happy to see us.

  “Thanks for meeting us here, Jane,” Jack said, leaning in carefully to hug her.

  “You didn’t give me a lot of choice. What’s all this about? Is something wrong? Have you found out more about John’s death? I really don’t feel like getting out, and I’ve got a lot of work to do at home.”

  “Just relax,” he said. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

  The hostess came over to seat us and I was surprised at how adamant Jane was about sitting indoors instead of out on the patio area. The weather was beautiful, but she seemed to shrink into herself even more at the thought of being out in the sunlight.

  I hadn’t known Jane Elliott for very long, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that she needed psychological help. She’d been through a lot over the last six years, and from everything Jack had told me, the way she was acting now wasn’t normal. She’d been fine. She’d learned to live as the widow of a good cop, and had been strong while raising her children and being there for the one who’d struggled to live.

  This woman didn’t look like the fighter I knew she was. She looked scared. And broken. The hostess sat us in a booth in the corner, and Jack sat with his back to the wall so he could see the front door and out the glass windows that went across the entire front. We ordered drinks and our food and got by on awkward small talk until they arrived.

  “Tell me about Wives and Mothers of the Fallen,” Jack said.

  Jane bobbled the hot tea she’d ordered and then wrapped her hands tightly around the mug. “I—I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Jane,” Jack said with a resigned sigh. “We know you received payments from them for two years after John died. Are you a member of the organization?”

  “Obviously you already know the answer to that question since you’ve been through my financial records.” Her shoulders straightened and she lifted her chin.

  “Listen to me. I’m here to help you. I’ve always been here to help you. But you need to tell me the truth. The more we uncover about this organization, the more it appears they’re not all they seem to be.”

  “They’re exactly what they say they are. They help women who’ve lost their husbands or sons, and that includes financially.
I would have lost the house if they hadn’t stepped in after John died. I hadn’t worked in years since I’d elected to stay home with the girls after they were born, and I spent every waking minute at the hospital with Katie once she got sick. The benefits after John’s death came nowhere near to cutting it. I applied for membership to WMF and qualified for one of the grants they give out to those in need. Once I found a good paying position and I was back on my feet again, they stopped the payments.”

  “Do you know Paris Spencer?”

  She shook her head no. “The FBI already asked me that. I’ve never heard of her.”

  “What about Grace Lieber?”

  Jane looked away as she answered. “I recognize the name, but I don’t know her. I believe she does a lot of the charity work with the foundation. Really, Jack, this is all ridiculous. They gave me money when I needed it. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  Jane was lying, and she wasn’t very good at it. She picked up her fork and I felt a slow fissure of unease ripple through me. Jane Elliott was left-handed. I wasn’t sure what made the thought pop into my head, but once it was there I couldn’t get rid of it. So I tested the waters, hoping to catch her off guard.

  “How long after John died did Andrew Caine start coming around?”

  If possible her face paled even more and she moved quickly, trying to get out of the booth and run away, but Jack grabbed her wrist and held her in place. She didn’t have the strength to struggle with him and she collapsed back in her seat and curled into herself.

  “Jesus, Jane. It was you? You’re the one who killed him?” Jack dropped her wrist and I could see he was honestly floored by the realization. This was his friend. Someone he thought he’d known.

  She rocked back and forth and a sob escaped, though she tried to hold it in. A couple of other diners glanced our way, and Jane turned her face so she was looking at the wall. No wonder she wasn’t looking good. The guilt of murder obviously weighed heavily on her.

  “What am I going to do about my girls? What am I going to do?” The tears streamed down her cheeks and I wasn’t sure she was really with us mentally anymore. It seemed like she’d gone to her own place.