Triumph

by Janet Dailey

  There were no signs of a passionate encounter anywhere in the suite. The couch pillows were lined up. There were no delicate underthings tossed on the floor or hanging from the chandelier. Through the bedroom door, she could see that the king-size bed had been slept in, but only on one side. The other half of the comforter was unwrinkled, still neat and square-cornered.

  Done. Deke didn’t even seem to notice that his suite had been inspected.

  He set the vase by the widescreen TV and gestured toward the table, which was set for two. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

  “Look, about last night,” she began, then stopped.

  “I understand.”

  “Let me finish,” Kelly said firmly. “After I left Natalie Conrad up there, I just wasn’t up for meeting anyone. Call it nervous system overload. I didn’t mean to be rude to your colleagues.”

  “They were cool with it. You did look tired.”

  The second comment irked her. Kelly lifted one of the metal domes on the room service spread, happy to see crisp bacon and scrambled eggs. She could use a hearty breakfast. “One of your female agents would be a good angle for the story.”

  “I was thinking the same thing myself.”

  “Really.”

  “They do things differently from us guys,” he began.

  “How?”

  “I can give you their numbers if you’d like to do some interviewing. After hours, we huddled at the hotel bar, had a few drinks, caught up on business—”

  “I get it.” Kelly picked up a piece of buttered toast and bit off a corner. “So did you find out everything you needed to know last night?”

  “I was about to catch up to you to talk about that when that huge guy stepped between us.”

  Kelly thought for a minute and then she remembered, but vaguely. Black hair, badly dressed. She hadn’t seen his face. “Who was he?”

  “No one you would want to know. I recognized his face from a photograph Hux took. Didn’t expect to see him here, though. I’m not sure if it means anything.” Deke pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll brief you on other stuff during breakfast, okay?”

  She sat, tucking her robe under her and adjusting the lapels. His suite was chilly too. “After. I need to eat.” Kelly noticed that Deke didn’t seem to feel the least bit cold. Worked for her. She got to admire him half-dressed by the light of day.

  He looked really good in the morning. One man in a million did, and here she was with him. Being with him, about to eat breakfast with no one else around, felt pleasantly domestic—in a highly sensual sort of way.

  “You spent a lot of time with Natalie Conrad,” Deke said. He leaned back in his chair, munching calmly on the last piece of toast. “What’s your take on her?”

  Kelly searched for the right word. “Natalie? She’s—intense. And hard to figure out. But this project means a lot to her. She wants to name the museum after her late husband. I got the feeling that she’d do anything to make it happen.”

  Deke brushed the crumbs from his hands. “The bidding frenzy was really something. Mrs. Conrad knows how to get rich people to give it up.”

  Kelly poured coffee for both of them. “They get their names on the museum. If it gets built.”

  Deke looked at her inquiringly.

  “I noticed that she never mentioned a start date or where it would be located. An architect’s model doesn’t mean anything. You have to wonder, right?”

  “That works both ways,” Deke pointed out. “Pledges don’t mean anything either until the money is in the bank.”

  Kelly nodded, cradling the warm cup in both hands as she sipped coffee. “True. Cynical, but true. So how about your investigation? Any leads?”

  “The short answer is yes. The team has to put it all together. Looks like our bad guys are trying to get into Dallas and start doing business. We can request go-aheads to investigate some, do online surveillance on others, and keep talking to our informants. If big money is being moved, we move in.”

  “Moved?” Kelly laughed. “You mean like in a truck?”

  “They do it all the time. But it’s not the easiest way.” Deke switched the subject. “Hey, I got the photos of the bracelet thief to the cops—thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t mention my name if they catch him. I don’t have time to chat with detectives about something I didn’t see.”

  “No problem,” Deke teased. “I’ll take the credit. Did you get any other photos after that?”

  “Not once I was sitting next to Natalie. And not after. The noise, the bling, the lights—” Kelly set down her cup and rubbed her temples. “Go away, little headache. Please go away.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ll live. I wanted to be there. And I got something out of it.”

  “Is Natalie going to give you an interview?”

  “That’s a long shot, but I did ask,” Kelly replied. “I got a polite no.”

  “Which won’t stop you.”

  She acknowledged that fact with a shrug. Deke rose and went to get his laptop, bringing it over to the table. Kelly watched idly until the screen came to life.

  He’d created a spreadsheet of sorts, with some of the photos he’d shown her before the ball and some new ones. Crooks to the left, likely victims to the right, and available agents in a middle column. Several names of celebrities and the socially prominent popped out at her.

  The Hales were not among them, Kelly noticed. Not every rich person was an easy mark. She suspected that the dignified Mrs. Hale would think nothing of using her beaded evening bag to beat up a crook.

  “Are you going to tell those people to watch out?” she wanted to know. “Besides the bracelet getting stolen, nothing happened, right?”

  “Not yet. But it wouldn’t be the first time we alerted banks in advance. For what that’s worth,” he added. “We don’t always know who’s on our side and who isn’t.”

  “What about someone like Gunther Bach?”

  “Not a damn thing we can do about him until a whole lot more dots get connected. We watch and wait, that’s all. He may be en route to Mexico again. And from there, we don’t know.”

  Kelly studied the faces. “I forgot to ask if you had run-ins with any of these characters before.”

  “Only one.” He pointed to a man with a narrow face. “I testified against him a couple of years ago. That was why I had to kiss you.”

  The memory was potent. The suddenness of his lips on hers, the strength with which he’d pulled her body close to his—she tried not to look at Deke now. “Is that your standard evasion technique?” she joked.

  “Actually, no. It’s not in the manual.”

  Kelly could feel his gaze on her. She kept her tone light and her mind on the business at hand. “Whatever. So you think these new developments might be related to the shooting in Atlanta?”

  “It’s a strong possibility. Some of what we’ve been hearing on the streets suggests it, and the evidence could point that way.”

  “Could you be less specific?”

  He picked up on her sarcasm without reacting to it. “We’re a long way from arresting anyone. We can’t get warrants without probable cause and actual facts. There are a lot of pieces to this puzzle. This is only the beginning.”

  “Hmm. I like the sound of that.”

  “Say what?”

  “This could be a series, not a one-time feature.” Kelly looked up at him. “Can you e-mail me these files?”

  “No.”

  The blunt reply didn’t invite a discussion of the reasons why he couldn’t. Kelly let it go. She’d wangle the information she wanted out of him somehow, promise him something he really wanted—then make him wait for it.

  “Okay. Well, I should get back to Atlanta tonight.” She didn’t want to ask him if he was staying or going. “Is that jet available?”

  “No. However, I’m authorized to buy you a commercial ticket.”

  “Sweet. Go for it.” K
elly sipped the last of her coffee as Deke tapped the keyboard.

  He waited for an airline page to download, and scrolled through the available flights. “There’s a three-ten nonstop to Atlanta with a couple of seats left in first class. Window or aisle?”

  “Window. If I can look out, I don’t have to talk to anyone.”

  “I know what you mean. You’re checking a bag, right?”

  “Yes.” She put down the empty cup. “Before I forget, thanks for the look at your operation. Going undercover with you really was interesting.”

  Deke closed the files and shut down the laptop. “I guess we both got what we came for.”

  Looking at his broad shoulders as he turned away from her made her inclined to disagree. That wasn’t all. Deke had a way of walking that would catch any woman’s eye. Long legs, nice butt, solid muscle in the middle, and those arms. She wouldn’t mind being held in them right now. Maybe messing up his disheveled dark hair even more. Kelly was regretting her ankle-length robe and ironclad professionalism.

  “Yes. I should type my notes while everything’s still fresh in my mind. Beats browsing at the airport bookstore.”

  “You have plenty of time.”

  Kelly made a wry face. “Just enough. I have to pack, shower, grab a taxi, and trek to the gate.”

  “Even so—”

  “Deke, my last flight out of DFW involved the monorail, a shuttle bus, and close to a mile of walking. It’s not my favorite airport.”

  “It is big,” he admitted. “Think of it as exercise.”

  “Don’t you get enough chasing crooks?” Deke certainly looked like he did. She wondered when and if she would get to see him showing this much muscle again.

  “Not always.” He clicked a final key. “Okay, you’re good to go. Want me to send the reservation to your smartphone?”

  “Please.”

  A moment later, her phone chimed, distantly, inside the evening bag in her suite. “Modern living. I love it,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kelly got up to go, tugging at her robe. “Deke, one more question,” she said casually.

  “Ask away.”

  “Since when does the government authorize a freelance agent to buy first-class tickets?”

  “It doesn’t. I used my miles.”

  Kelly shot him a disbelieving look. “I hope you didn’t use them up.”

  “There’s more where those came from.”

  She was all for hustling, but he seemed a little too eager to send her on her way. “Aren’t you sweet. But that really wasn’t necessary. Your next ticket is on me. I have more frequent-flyer miles than I know what to do with.”

  “Forget it. My pleasure. Call me when you get to Atlanta.”

  Several hours later, Kelly was relaxing in a comfortable first-class seat, letting her mind drift as she looked out the plane window. She had the row to herself and had curled up with a book she wasn’t reading and notes she wasn’t writing. Lazy clouds drifted over sprawling ranches, which changed to farms dotted with irrigation circles as they flew on. The patchwork-quilt look of the landscape was comforting. After a while she dozed off.

  “If it isn’t the Happy Hacker,” Deke said. He tossed a duffel and a garment bag on the bed in a different hotel, a twenty-minute cab ride away from the first, in a run-down neighborhood of Dallas.

  “Give it a rest, Bannon. That nickname is getting old.” The young woman already in the room didn’t bother to turn around to look at him. Her smooth, light brown hair was drawn back into a long ponytail that lined up exactly with her spine.

  Hux entered in another minute. “She’s right. Want me to beat him up, Alison?”

  “That’s okay, Hux. I can do it myself.” Alison Powell stared into a laptop set on a rickety table that leaned against the wall. Her gray eyes gleamed blue, reflecting the screen.

  “Sorry. I promise never to call you that again. What a dump,” Deke muttered, looking around.

  “You picked it,” Alison reminded him.

  Hux set a suitcase on the luggage rack he unfolded and looked around with dismay. “You couldn’t find anything better?”

  “It’s close to the pawnshop,” Deke said. “I didn’t want to hang around on the street in a rented car.”

  “You and me both.” Hux turned to Alison. “Any sign of the guy?”

  “Not yet.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sick of surveillance, I can tell you that. What took you guys so long?”

  “The hotel manager wanted my analysis of the ballroom security video. He let us monitor it because of the phone and camera ban,” Hux answered.

  “Anything useful on it?” she asked.

  “Only nine thousand people went in and out of that hotel during our time frame. So, no. Not a damn thing.” Hux glanced at his partner. “And after I got done with him, Deke had to get his lady friend to the airport.”

  “Awww,” Alison said. “What a gentleman.”

  “I try to be,” Deke sighed. He went over to Alison and bent slightly to look into the screen. “Look at that. We’re right behind the counter. We can see every customer that comes up to it, full face.”

  “No sound, though,” she said.

  “Can’t have everything. Great visuals. Exactly what we need. Bet the other teams on stakeout don’t have this,” Deke replied.

  “It only took me five minutes to hack in,” Alison said. “They spent serious money on their system. Digital security cams, wireless feed to new computers. Lame password, though. Typical.”

  “Good work.” Deke walked to the grimy window and looked out at the flashing sign below. WE NEVER CLOSE. The pawnshop was a big place with metal grates over the brightly lit windows. According to his police contacts, they did a brisk business and didn’t fence stolen goods. They made more money staying on the right side of the law. In return, the police patrolled the street regularly, which allowed the owners to stay open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

  The sound of a cell phone had Hux digging in his pocket. He picked up an incoming text. “Huh. The Dallas PD found a body outside the hotel. Rolled in a carpet, left on a storage cart. Unidentified male, thirty to forty. Removed to morgue. Anyone want to go see?”

  “No.” Alison had never liked the gritty side of investigations.

  “Later. He isn’t going anywhere,” Deke answered.

  Hux stumbled over something on the floor and swore. He bent to retrieve it and held it up. “Ugh. A flip-flop.”

  “Only one?” Deke asked absently.

  “Yeah, only one,” Hux said with disgust. “What, do you think we could pawn a pair?” He tossed the rubber sandal into the wastebasket.

  “Don’t throw it out. You could use it to kill bugs,” Alison joked. “I did see a couple of big ones skittering around.” She rose, stretching.

  “And here come their flying friends.” Hux swatted at a whining, invisible insect. “Look at all those busted screens. We’re going to get eaten alive tonight.”

  Deke reached for his wallet. “Here’s five bucks. Go buy a can of bug spray.”

  “You’re a prince, Bannon. I think I can afford it.”

  Deke put the bill back into his wallet. “Then go. Now. Before the place on the corner closes.”

  “Okay. I can’t kill mosquitoes with a handgun. They’re too fast.”

  He slammed out and Deke took Alison’s chair, looking into the laptop. “Is it possible to switch to a different camera?”

  She reached over his arm and pointed to an icon on the screen. “Yes. Click that. You can keep more than one window open if you want.”

  Deke pulled up a view of the door, guarded by a burly guy in a bulletproof vest, who buzzed in a customer, shabbily dressed, with white hair. Deke followed the old man as he approached the clerk at the counter and unrolled the top of a paper bag with shaky hands, tipping something sparkly onto the glass.

  Probably some piece of junk, Deke thought. Poor old guy was hoping to get enough to b
uy a bottle of Old Overcoat. He practiced zooming in and out—and whistled suddenly under his breath.

  “Hey. Am I seeing things? That looks like it.”

  “Seriously?” Alison came back and peered into the screen, tapping a couple of keys to enlarge the image. She glanced at the color printout of the emerald-and-diamond bracelet for comparison. “Could be. But he’s going to sell it for chump change.” Another tap and they both could read what the clerk scrawled on a piece of paper. “Ten bucks. Hmm. That’s on the high side for costume jewelry.”

  “Whatever. That’s not the thief we got pictures of.”

  “Maybe he was working with someone else.”

  “Not this grandpa.” Deke reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to call my contact. They’ll get someone in there. You can go. I’m on this.”

  Alison stopped what she was doing. “I can’t leave now,” she grumbled. “And let you get the glory if that is the bracelet? No freaking way.”

  Something had been slipped halfway under her door. Kelly saw it before she reached for her keys. She opened the door and rolled her bags in, avoiding the cream-colored envelope. Then she went back to get it, absently noticing that it was heavy for its size.

  She supposed it was a last-minute invitation, maybe to a Saturday-night event in Atlanta that she’d been fortunate enough to miss. Monroe Capp would have had something like that sent over by messenger, signed for and delivered by building staff.

  Entering her apartment, she closed the door behind her and slid a finger under the lightly sealed flap to open the envelope. Inside was a card printed on the same high-quality stock. She didn’t need to read it right away. Definitely an invitation. For some reason there were photos enclosed. She could hear thin crackly paper.

  Kelly headed for the kitchen and slung her purse over a bar-style chair. She put the card on the counter, not wanting to look at it or the photos right away. Kelly stuck a large glass under the icemaker and waited for a few cubes, then poured a can of soda over them, taking the glass to the table with the card.