James answered the phone without checking to see who was calling. “Hello.”
“James, it’s Sophie,” the voice on the other end of the phone is. “I’m sorry to call you so early.”
“Sophie?” Mandy stirred on James’ chest. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Grady?”
“He was fine when I left him in bed two hours ago,” Sophie said. “I got called out on a story.”
“What is it?” James ran his hand over Mandy’s worried forehead, smoothing it.
“I got called out to a body dump at the Clinton River,” Sophie said. “Someone shot a man in the back and dumped him in the river.”
“Is it someone from the tent town?”
“Kind of,” Sophie said. “One of the sheriff’s deputies at the scene recognized the man from a previous incident.”
“And?”
“It’s Cole Gordon.”
James sat up straight, being careful not to knock Mandy around in his haste. “I’m on my way.”
Twenty-Two
James handed Sophie a fresh cup of coffee when he found her hanging around the crime-scene tape near the river. It had taken some convincing, but Mandy finally agreed to remain at the apartment while he came to the scene. The thought of her warm and safe in the bed they shared was fueling him.
“Thanks,” Sophie said, taking the coffee from him. “The days are getting warmer, but it’s still cold out here. I needed this.”
“Yeah,” James replied, sipping from his own coffee. “Have you found anything else out?”
“They don’t know what kind of gun it was yet,” Sophie said. “They won’t have that until they do an autopsy.”
“That’s not really going to help us unless they find a ballistics match,” James said. “And, for some reason, I doubt they’re going to find a match.”
“You’re probably right,” Sophie said. “I don’t like to leave any stone unturned, though. It’s something to follow.”
James glanced around, taking in the scene. “How far is this from the tent town? About two miles?”
Sophie shrugged. “I haven’t been to the tent town,” she said. “You would know better than me.”
“That means he was still hanging around the area,” James said. “He didn’t wander far. He wasn’t with the others, but he wasn’t far away from them either.”
“The courthouse is just over that ridge,” Sophie said, pointing. “I have no idea how Cole managed to get here from the shelter. Maybe he caught a ride on a bus or something. He could have easily walked from the river to the courthouse, though.”
James nodded, not for the first time marveling at how the reporter’s mind worked. “That’s a good point.”
“Where did he build the bomb, though?” Sophie was talking, although James wasn’t sure if it was to him or herself.
“The shelter?”
Sophie shook her head. “They’re searched before they go in. There’s no way.”
“So, someone provided him with a place to build the bomb,” James said. “It would have to be quiet and out of the way, somewhere he wouldn’t look out of place if someone saw him.”
“That could be any number of places,” Sophie said. “And when whoever hired him realized that we were closing in on Cole, they eliminated him as a layer of protection.”
James’ heart clenched. “We got him killed.”
“He blew up your girlfriend,” Sophie reminded him.
“He was used as a tool to hurt Mandy,” James said. “He’s not the one I’m after. While I’m not thrilled with him running around, he’s not the one I want.”
“We need to know who hired him,” Sophie said.
“Do we have any idea who he trusted?”
Sophie shook her head. “I do have another idea.”
“Grady says you’re full of ideas,” James said. “What have you got?”
Sophie pointed to a spot over his shoulder, causing him to swivel and follow the line her finger was drawing in the morning sky. “The prostitutes?”
Three women, all scantily clad, were standing under a streetlight and watching the commotion.
“I think they prefer to be called women of the night,” Sophie said, her tone dry. “They’re always walking up and down this road. People pay for an hour of their time, and then park down here to stay out of sight from the patrol cars. I think it’s mostly a hand job and blow-job thing.”
James rubbed his unshaven chin, Sophie’s idea taking form. “They might have seen something.”
“They might not tell you without some form of … financial incentive,” Sophie said.
“Yeah, I figured.”
“I think they’re going to be more willing to talk to you than me,” Sophie said. “I don’t have the right parts. Just be prepared, you’re probably going to want to shower when you’re done.”
James glanced at the women and then back at Sophie. “Let’s not tell Mandy about this, shall we?” He could already picture her face, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
James left Sophie to continue hounding the police force for information and made his way across the street, trying to look unassuming as he approached the women. His efforts were for naught.
“Hello, honey,” one of the woman, a platinum blonde with an impressive set of … lungs … greeted him. “Are you looking for some company?”
James forced a smile onto his face, one he’d been told on more than one occasion could be deemed as charming. “Actually, I’m looking for information.”
“Are you a cop?”
“He looks like a cop.” One of the other women, a brunette with an ugly scar near her hairline, was watching him with suspicious eyes.
“I’m not a cop,” James said, holding up his hand in a placating manner. “Although, I do need to know about the dead guy over there.”
“He was shot,” the blonde said. “We didn’t hear the gun go off, but that’s what the cops said.”
“I know. I need to know who shot him.”
“What makes you think we know?”
“Don’t you guys know all and see all?”
“Maybe.”
James reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He looked inside, pulling out two hundred-dollar bills and handing them over. “Did you see anything?”
The blonde took the money, tucking it into her ample cleavage before fixing him with her best come-hither smile. “He was arguing with someone.”
“At first, we didn’t realize there was someone there,” one of the other women said. “That dude talked to himself a lot.”
“When did you realize he was talking to someone else?”
“It was a couple of hours ago,” the blonde said. “He was talking to a woman.”
James cocked his head to the side, his heartbeat increasing. “A woman? You’re sure?”
“You couldn’t mistake that voice for anything else,” she said. “They were fighting about him screwing up some job.”
“Tell me exactly what you heard,” James instructed.
“It was a lot of nonsense at first,” she said. “He kept demanding payment for something, saying it was supposed to be put in some bank account and it wasn’t, and the woman refused to give him anything because he screwed up and let some bitch get away. Those were her words, not mine.”
“Was there anything about the woman that you recognized? Any identifiable marks or anything?”
“She was just a woman,” the blonde said. “If it’s any help, I think she was kind of old.”
“How old?”
“I don’t know, like sixties old,” the woman said, shrugging.
“Hair color?”
“It was dark.”
“Fat? Skinny?”
“She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t really fat.”
James nodded, figuring he had gleaned as much information as he could from the women. He pulled another hundred out of his wallet, pairing it with a business
card. “Thank you. If you remember anything, give me a call.”
“You got it,” the blonde said, taking the money and the card. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? I’ve been told I’m real talented.”
The only thing James wanted now was to see another blonde. “It’s a tempting offer, but no. I don’t think that would go over well at home.”
JAMES watched Mandy sleep for a few moments, kicking off his shoes and stripping out of his clothes before climbing into bed with her. Even in slumber, she instinctively reached for him. He pulled her into his arms, folding her tightly into his embrace.
“What happened?” Mandy murmured.
“Cole Gordon is dead,” James said. “He was shot in the back.”
“Why?”
“I think someone needed to shut him up,” James said.
“Someone that wants to hurt me,” Mandy said.
“Yeah.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Now? Now I need you to do something you’re really not going to want to do,” James said. “I thought about going behind your back and doing something, but that never works out well for me.”
“You don’t want me to go to work, do you?”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere without me,” James said.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” James admitted. “Whoever killed Cole is in this immediate area. Something tells me it’s not going to be long.”
“Why?” Mandy rubbed her hand over James’ heart, letting its steady beat lull her.
“Whoever this is, I don’t think they want to wait to come after you,” James said. “This is somehow personal to them. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know why they’re going after you, but I do know I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
Mandy was quiet, thoughtful. “I’ll call the judge after eight. He’ll understand.”
“I’ll call if you want,” James said. “There are some things I want to talk to him about.”
“Like?”
“Like beefing up security around himself and Heidi,” James said. “They’re close to you.”
“You don’t think … ?”
“I think you’re the target,” James said. “If I keep you hidden long enough, though, someone might try some inventive ways to get at you.”
“You know you can’t keep me here forever, right? At some point, we have lives to live.”
James kissed her softly. “I know. That’s why we have to get this right the first time.”
“So, you’re convinced that Cole is the one who set the bomb?”
“I am,” James said.
“And how do you plan on finding out who hired him?”
“I don’t know.”
Mandy inched her way up his chest, burrowing her head in the hollow beneath his neck. “I’m scared.”
James tightened his embrace. “I’m scared, too. That’s why I’m not going to let you out of my sight. You’re going to be sick and tired of me by the time this is all over with.”
“I guess we’re going to have to find something to distract us,” Mandy said, moving her hand down his chest and slipping it inside of his boxer shorts.
James’ breath caught in his chest when he felt her small hand wrap itself around his length, teasing him, enticing him. He fought to keep his voice neutral. “What did you have in mind?”
Mandy ran her index finger along the underside of his hardening member. “I don’t know, a little of this.”
James moaned.
“A little of that.” Mandy raised her head, kissing him deeply. “A whole lot of this and that.”
James rolled over on top of her, not realizing until he was already in place that this was the first time he’d rested the bulk of his weight on her since the explosion. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is your back okay?”
“James?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut up and make love to me.”
James chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. I guess I’m going to have to start calling you Captain Bossy.”
“That’s General Bossy to you.”
Twenty-Three
On Friday morning, Grady found Sophie sitting on the floor in the living room sifting through a pile of documents. When they’d gone to sleep the night before, she’d been tucked in at his side and dozing dreamily. He had no idea when she’d woken up, or why she’d stealthily climbed out of bed instead of waking him.
“What are you doing, sugar?”
“Thinking,” Sophie said, glancing up. “Did I wake you?”
“I think the lack of you next to me is what woke me up,” Grady said, running a hand through his tousled hair as he slipped down onto the carpeted floor with her. “Why are you up at this ungodly hour?”
“I’m missing something,” Sophie said. “When I’m missing something, I can’t sleep. I need to find it.”
Grady shifted himself, pushing her body forward from the chair she was leaning on to give himself room to slide into the opening behind her. He pulled her between his legs, his arms around her waist, and rested his head on her shoulder so he could watch her work. “Tell me what we’re looking at.”
“When I talked to James on Tuesday afternoon, he said the prostitutes told him that the woman who killed Cole was supposed to pay him,” Sophie said. “But what I didn’t remember – or maybe it just didn’t click at the time – was the other part of that. According to the prostitutes, Cole said the money was supposed to be transferred into a bank account.”
“Wouldn’t that be the normal way of transacting business like this?”
“Yeah, but Cole Gordon was homeless,” Sophie said. “How does he have a bank account?”
Grady was quiet, thoughtful. “That’s a really good point. You’re so smart.”
Sophie smiled, shivering slightly as Grady kissed her exposed neck. “The question is, how do we find the bank account?”
“What good will finding the bank account do us now?”
Sophie shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, because your mind doesn’t always fire on all cylinders when your sleeping pattern is interrupted.”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Grady challenged. “Because I could find any number of women who wouldn’t verbally abuse me to take your place. I get offers all of the time.”
“Yeah, but they’ll just want you for your body,” Sophie said. “That would cheapen you.”
“And what do you want me for?”
Sophie leaned back, kissing him deeply. “Everything.”
Grady sighed, rubbing his thumb over her hip. “So, you were telling me why the bank account was important?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sophie said, turning back to her documents. “I’m thinking that there’s no way anyone agreed to kill someone without getting at least half of the money up front. I mean, why do a job like that without getting a split of the funds? It’s not like he could go to the cops if he was ripped off. Even someone who was mentally ill would have to realize that.”
“That’s actually a really good idea,” Grady said. “How do we find the bank account?”
“Well, I managed to pull Cole’s records from the VA over at the county,” Sophie said. “I was hoping it would give me an idea.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“Can you call the bank?”
“Which bank?” Sophie asked. “Because if you know what bank he had an account at, that would be a great starting point.”
Grady frowned. “I didn’t think about that.”
“I’m guessing his bank was one he could access if he needed to,” Sophie said. “He was sticking close to Mount Clemens.”
“And how many banks are represented in Mount Clemens?”
“Three.”
“Well, that narrows the field down considerably,” Grady said. “Just check those banks.”
“And how do you suggest I do that? Do you thin
k they’re just going to give me what I want because I ask nicely?”
“Can’t you do one of those FOI things?”
“The Freedom of Information Act is for public entities and government,” Sophie said. “Banks are private, and banking records are a mess to try and get access to.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I do have another idea,” Sophie said.
Grady grinned. She always had another idea. “What’s the idea?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
Grady’s grin faded. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.
“I’m going to ask Peter for help.”
Grady groaned. “You’re going to ask your mobster foster father to dig into financials for you?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Grady shrugged, feeling helpless. “No … but … .”
“We have a ticking clock here,” Sophie said. “James has managed to keep Mandy locked up for three straight days, but she’s already going stir crazy, and I don’t blame her. Don’t ever try that shit with me, by the way.”
“Duly noted.”
“We need information, and the information we need is not something we can get without a little help,” Sophie said.
“And you think Peter can help you?”
“I think he’s the only one who can help me,” Sophie said.
Grady sighed, giving in. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
GRADY hadn’t yet had the opportunity to visit Peter Marconi’s home, even though he and Sophie had been together for almost eight months. The handful of times he’d seen the man, it had been at Sophie’s much smaller split-level ranch. Grady preferred it that way.
Peter’s home – more of a mansion, really – was located on the Lake St. Clair side of Lakeshore Drive in the ritzy Grosse Pointe area. When they pulled in through the wrought-iron gates, Grady fixed Sophie with an incredulous look. “You lived here?”
“For several years,” Sophie said. “It’s homier than it looks.”
“It’s something,” Grady said. “I don’t even know what to say about it.”
“Just compliment it,” Sophie said. “He loves this place, and he’s proud of it.”
“And who are those guys?” Grady asked, pointing at the two men in suits – both with noticeable bulges underneath their jackets. “Are those cousins?”
Deadly Proposal (Hardy Brothers Security Book 4) Page 16