Catnapped

by Gabriella Herkert

  “I can be sneaky when the situation calls for it.”

  I looked at him with my best you’re-kidding expression.

  “Which we’ve agreed I will use only against outsiders.” He held his hands up like a robbery victim happy to give up his cash. I didn’t believe it for a second.

  “Any ideas on how you’re going to get Jepsen to talk?”

  “You told me he was a wheeler-dealer. I figure he’d be interested in a new player in town, one with a big deal in the works.”

  “A deal where you need to know where he was last Wednesday night? That’ll never fly.”

  “Okay, boss. Do you have a plan?”

  I thought for a moment. I’d show him sneaky.

  “Okay, how’s this?” I smiled, wanting to show off a little. “You work for an insurance company. You have a client who thinks he may have hit Jepsen’s car on Wednesday night. Then ask him where he was on Wednesday.”

  “That’s good. What kind of car does he drive?”

  “Black Mercedes. That’s the beauty of this particular lie. A status guy like him will immediately want to check his precious car. Maybe you get a look at the car as a bonus.”

  “Smart and beautiful.” He grinned, clearly impressed. “You think we can tie it to the alley?”

  “No way. A car like that would’ve been noticed. Not to mention stripped.”

  “I’ll check it out. What will my colleague be doing?”

  “Hopefully I’ll be getting a copy of Mitchell Burke’s accident file. How about if we meet back at the apartment in”—I glanced at my watch—“three hours?”

  “Five o’clock. Check.”

  He held open my car door and I got in.

  “Be careful, Sara.”

  “You, too, Con. Remember this guy is the bad guy, okay?”

  “Roger that.” He leaned into my window to give me a quick, brain-scrambling kiss.

  “See you at five.” He turned and walked away.

  “Oh, and Connor?” I yelled, half hanging from the open window.

  “Yeah?”

  “If that she-devil in the front office leaves so much as a fingerprint, there’s gonna be trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I stopped by the apartment and dropped off the car. There was no sense paying twenty bucks for a couple of hours’ parking. A quick trip upstairs for a peanut-butter sandwich and I was on my way back to the office. I stepped into my cubicle and stopped short as Elizabeth casually closed my desk drawer.

  “Find what you were looking for?”

  “Where is your status report on the Millinfield matter?” She was in an ice blue suit with matching eye shadow; very befitting of her personality.

  “I briefed Mr. Hamilton personally this morning.” Which she damn well knew. “I’ll have a written update by the end of the day.” I walked around the desk and she was forced to skirt me to get out. It was a petty victory but still sweet.

  “It’s hard to imagine it takes a professional investigator”—she laid mocking emphasis on the noun—“days to track a missing pet.”

  I wanted to reach over and push her face in. I was hot and my head hurt. I’d spent the morning emotionally beating up on a woman I liked more in an hour than I could like this woman in a year.

  “Maybe you ought to—”

  “Elizabeth, I think the boss is looking for you.” Joe appeared over her shoulder, a too-bright smile on his exhausted face.

  She glared at him, then threw me a venomous glare and swept away. I slammed into my chair, running my hands through my hair.

  “Ugh. You should have let me do it. It would have been a public service. No one would hold it against me.”

  “She’d call the cops.”

  “They wouldn’t hold it against me either.”

  “I’m thinking Sergeant Wesley might not be your biggest fan, although he’s a hard read.” Joe slouched against a filing cabinet.

  “When did you meet Sergeant Wesley?”

  “At lunch. I ran into him in reception.”

  My peanut-butter sandwich molded into a fist in my stomach. “Was he here to see me?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “What could I tell him?” Joe shrugged. “I don’t know anything. I never know anything. I did tell him I didn’t know where you were.”

  “He say anything else?”

  “Asked if I knew where your husband was.”

  Joe was giving me an odd look. I didn’t blame him. I knew I was married, and I didn’t believe it either.

  “You’re not married, are you?”

  “Well, actually, I am.”

  “Shotgun?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Arranged?”

  “No.”

  “Nervous breakdown?”

  “Joe!” I yelled.

  He held his hands up. “Just checking. The cop asked you to call.” Joe pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “I’ll get right on that.” I put the card in the top drawer of the desk.

  “Oh, and Sara? Stay away from Lethal Liz. She’s got a serious jones for you.”

  “I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything to her.”

  “I doubt she needs a reason.” He left.

  I spent a useless minute fuming over Elizabeth’s unreasonable hatred of me. She might be only a secretary, but she had the big man’s ear. She could cost me my job. Then again, pretty much everything I’d done in the last couple of days could cost me my job. I dismissed Elizabeth from my thoughts.

  It took only one phone call to get Cort’s office to agree to fax me the file. Emma had been there before me. While I waited, I got on the Internet and searched the newspaper databases for articles about Mitchell Burke’s accident. There was only one reference.

  Seven people including two teenagers were killed and four others injured in a three-car collision on Highway 2 near Leavenworth last night. Identification of the victims is being withheld pending family notifications. A police spokesman said bad weather and road conditions may have contributed to the crash. In an unrelated accident, Mitchell Burke, chief financial officer of Masterson Enterprises, also died when his car plunged down an embankment less than a mile from the site of the three-car accident. According to local police, Burke, 54, was alone at the time of the accident. For months local community groups, through an active letter-writing campaign, have been urging the Washington State Highway Division to place new reinforced guardrails along an eight-mile stretch of Highway 2 that has been the site of several traffic accidents over the last few months, including two other fatal accidents. Timothy Manus, spokesmen for the Leavenworth chapter of the Elks, said his volunteers plan to redouble their efforts in the wake of these new tragedies.

  Millicent Millinfield, speaking on behalf of Masterson Enterprises, said Burke was a key player in the success of the multibillion-dollar conglomerate. Burke is survived by his wife of thirty years, Emma Burke.

  I stared at the screen. A man’s entire life boiled down to a couple paragraphs. Emma’s face flashed into my mind. There had to be something I could do to help her, some closure I could give her.

  Inspiration took hold. I highlighted Millicent’s name and pasted it into the search box. A moment later a list of five dozen articles appeared. I opened the first. It was a long account of Millicent’s fatal accident. Like Burke, she’d died in a car accident. There was a lot of that going around. Deciding I wouldn’t have made it far on the Warren Commission, I started reading.

  Ten articles later, I had to concede that accidents really did happen. Millicent’s crash was nothing like Mitchell’s. She’d died in a twelve-car pileup that included a chemical truck. HazMat had responded to the scene. And if the volume of newspaper attention was any indication, there’d been more professionals on the case than Dalmatians had spots.

  I got up and stretched, heading to the fax machine. My fax from California was just coming through. I looked around and,
not seeing anyone peering over my shoulder, I read as the pages printed. All three of them. Picking up the phone, I made three calls: one to Emma, one to the police detective listed on the report, and one to Information. Stuffing the papers into my pocket, I left for the day.

  I stopped short when I reached my kitchen doorway. It had been a long day. I knew it was going to get longer. All I wanted was a quick shower and eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. Okay, seven postcoital hours. Marriage was turning me into a sex maniac. It was a pipe dream and I knew it. Instead of Connor and the sandman, I had road trips and the men of my life bonding over bottles of beer. Worse, Russ knew just about everything there was to know about me. Much more than Connor needed to know. And Russ, bless his heart, had the discretion of Aldrich Ames. I needed to break this up fast.

  “Hi, honey. How was your day?” Russ asked with his bad-boy smile.

  My stomach clenched. I sneaked a look at Connor, but he didn’t seem mad. I wondered if there was a way I could throw Russ out before I ended up explaining the unexplainable for the rest of the night.

  Connor straightened from his leaning position against the counter and came over to me. As he bent to kiss me, I caught sight of Russ’s avid expression and turned my head, offering my cheek. No sense putting on a show. I sank into the chair across from Russ, admiring the view over his shoulder, as Connor bent down to retrieve a beer from the refrigerator.

  “Any luck on the great feline caper?” I looked back at Russ, only to realize he’d turned his head to watch Connor, too. I kicked Russ under the table, and he turned back to me with an angelic countenance.

  “Not much.”

  Connor handed me the open bottle and I gripped the chilled glass, savoring the wet coldness.

  “That’s too bad. I think it’s a career-maker. Definitely the direction you want to be going.” Russ raised his bottle in salute before turning to face Connor. “Which is surprising, since she has no sense of direction. In fact, she’s lucky if she finds the house from the driveway.”

  “At least I can find my own apartment once I’m actually in the building,” I jabbed at him.

  “Subtle. Did I mention how subtle your wife could be, Connor?”

  “I think it came up after you told me she hadn’t had a date since Carter was president.”

  I choked on my beer. I looked from one to the other and back. If I had more energy, I’d be mortified. As it was, I could only shake my head at Russ and promise myself I would get even later.

  “Which is probably a good thing, since she’s already apparently married to two men,” Connor added.

  “Don’t help him. He doesn’t need your help. And stop ganging up on me.”

  Russ laughed, reaching over to chuck my chin.

  “You’ll be happy to know that Connor and I have decided to behave like gentlemen about the whole marriage thing.” Russ began to peel the label from his beer, dropping the shreds onto the tablecloth. “There’s no sense letting things get out of hand. After all, Connor is a reasonable man. And we all know that I am the definition of enlightenment.”

  “Besides, he could kick the crap out of you,” I muttered.

  “Which shows I’m also one of God’s brighter bulbs.”

  “I said could. He won’t because I’m saving that pleasure for myself.”

  “She also likes to threaten people. I don’t take it seriously.”

  “That could be a mistake,” Connor suggested, sipping his beer.

  “I just put it down to her passionate nature.” Russ grinned lasciviously at me. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Passionate. Definitely.” Connor’s voice was jazz smooth.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider a request for details? No? I didn’t think so. Although I must tell you, I think personal privacy is incredibly overrated, especially when it keeps me from hearing all the good parts. Anyway, except for a few aggressive tendencies and a deplorable sense of style, she’s not so bad.”

  Connor murmured noncommittally.

  “You want another beer?” Connor raised his bottle inquiringly.

  “I don’t mind if I do.”

  “Don’t you have a job or an apartment or a life you have to get back to?”

  “I don’t have to be at the station until eight. And, since Connor is only going to be here for a short time, I think I really ought to make getting to know him a priority.”

  “Prioritize this.” I used my favorite traffic gesture.

  Russ laughed and Connor kept his head bent, clearing his throat. I looked from one to the other and gave up, shaking my head in exasperation.

  “So are you going to tell me what agreement you two gentlemen have made with regard to my company? Is it Monday, Wednesday, Friday, every other weekend? Or are we working on a six-month-on, six-month-off schedule?”

  “I have graciously decided to forgo future sexual relations with you,” Russ said. “It’s an unsafe world out there, and monogamy is really the right answer.”

  I finished my beer.

  “And what did you get in exchange for such a big concession?”

  “He doesn’t do anything that would make it impossible for me to have a monogamous relationship with someone else in the future,” Russ said dryly.

  I swallowed a laugh. Actually, it was kind of sweet in a caveman sort of way. I sneaked a glance at Connor, who winked at me, a smile playing around his lips.

  “You got the better part of that deal,” I told Connor.

  Russ left a few minutes later. Connor walked him to the door and came back smiling.

  “How about a pizza for dinner? Easy, no dishes.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “We can grab something on the way.”

  “On the way where?” He leaned against the refrigerator.

  “Leavenworth, Washington.”

  I got up and went into the bedroom, pulling jeans and a T-shirt from the dresser. I changed clothes in the bathroom, coming back out into the bedroom to find Connor slouched against the headboard.

  I sat down and put on my shoes.

  “What’s in Leavenworth?” he asked.

  “Other than the best fudge in the state?” I tied my laces and stood, fishing the fax out of my discarded pants before leading Connor out of the apartment and down the back stairs. “I was thinking it was time for another mission.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “Reconnaissance. That’s what you call it, right? Re-con?”

  “Yeah, that’s what we call it. What are we re-conning?”

  “Mitchell Burke’s accident scene. Or, more particularly, his car.” I unlocked the passenger door and handed him the keys. “While I was waiting for the fax, I checked out Millicent’s death,” I told him.

  “She’s the cat owner?”

  “Yeah. She died in a car accident less than a week after Mitchell Burke.”

  “That’s a bit of a coincidence.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I merged onto the freeway in light traffic, picking up speed. “But in this case it really is a coincidence. Millicent died in a big accident in downtown Seattle. There were a dozen cars involved. An entire hazardous-materials team was dispatched. There were at least ten specialists assigned. So we know that Millicent’s death really was an accident.”

  “Either that or the best-planned murder in history.”

  “What did you get from Jepsen?”

  Connor groaned. “The things I do for you.”

  “You insisted on being the one to talk to him.” I leaned my seat back, the days of no sleep hitting me hard. “What story did you give him?”

  “Told him I was interested in investment opportunities. The guy’s vermin. Desperate vermin.” Connor took one hand off the wheel and laid it on my thigh.

  “Desperate?”

  “He’s got a big development of office buildings in a neighborhood a few miles from your apartment. They’re about three-quarters complete. The only problem is, according to my investment broker, office space
in downtown Seattle isn’t exactly a hot market. With all the dotcoms going under, and all the empty Boeing space, prices have dropped and vacancy rates have skyrocketed.”

  “You have an investment broker?”

  “He’s a family friend.”

  “That’s handy. What kind of investor is Jepsen looking for?”

  “The bail-me-out kind. I had my friend make some calls. Jepsen put up all his Masterson Enterprises stock to secure a note for this project. He’s already had to sell off his other stuff to make his interest payments. Without another investor, he’s toast.”

  I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Yes, Sara, you are officially too old for all-nighters. “Did you find out where he was on Wednesday?”

  “No. I did get a look at the car, though.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “He has a fifty-thousand-dollar pigsty.”

  I shuddered, picturing it. “I’ll bet.”

  “I did get one more piece of intel.”

  “Hmmm?” I sighed, trying to get more comfortable.

  “Both Masterson children are investors.”

  I sat up straight, shaking my head to push the sleepiness away. “That’s cozy.”

  “They invested after Jepsen filed suit.”

  “Nice. I wonder where they got the money? Everything keeps coming back to it.” I rubbed my eyes and tugged the seat belt away from my neck. “Well, that and revenge. When I met with Jepsen, every other sentence was more diatribe against all the ways Masterson has screwed him. Got to love that testosterone.”

  “Hey, don’t lump me in with them.”

  “Except for you, then.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Connor grimaced. “My take, based on what Jepsen was saying, is that he’s suing to force a payout on his shares of Masterson Enterprises. Apparently, there is some big case where minority shareholders got a court to mandate dividend payments to keep the majority shareholders from holding their investment hostage. For Jepsen, it would be a win-win. He’d have enough cash to bail out the project, and, with the court overseeing payments tied to the shares, they’d be worth a lot more and there’d be an actual market for the things.”

  “Definitely a win-win. And the kids?”