Catching the Bad Guy (Book Two) (Janet Maple Series)

by Marie Astor

  “Laskin is a pro at this kind of thing. He’ll be fine.”

  Janet raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me that Laskin sucked when it came to field work? And that his best strength is being stuck behind the desk?”

  “He used to suck, but he’s learned a lot from me, and he is a lot better now. I mean he has to be, or why would you pick him over me as your wingman?”

  Janet groaned. “Is that why you kicked Peter out? To bicker over this nonsense with me? I already told you why: I thought you’d be otherwise engaged. And, as it had turned out, Laskin is pretty good in the field.”

  The hurt expression on Dennis’s face made it clear that Janet’s remark had hit him hard. “Better than me?”

  “Do you really expect me to answer that? Come on, Dennis, you know better than that. Right now is not the time for us to fight among ourselves. Alex is breathing down our necks, and Muller’s got Finnegan in his back pocket. Unless we act together, we don’t stand a chance.”

  “What was that about Alex breathing down your neck?” Dennis took a step closer to Janet. “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he added, taking another step closer to her, too close for Janet’s taste.

  “Enough, Dennis! I thought this was important to you. I thought you wanted to get back at them for what they did to Ham, for what they did to our case and our careers.”

  Dennis straightened up, taking a step back. “Of course I do. But I need to know that you’re with me, Janet. I need to know that you’re not falling in love with Kingsley all over again.”

  “Are you kidding me? Is your opinion of me that low? I might have been a fool for falling for him once, but not twice. I thought we’ve been over this already.”

  “We have, but I need to be sure.” Dennis rubbed his forehead. “I need to know …”

  Dennis halted, and Janet held her breath. Was he going to say it? Could it be that he too felt the same way as she did? “I need to know that you’re my partner, Janet,” came Dennis’s words.

  Doing her best not to sound disappointed, Janet reassured him. “I am your partner, Dennis. You know that.”

  “I do now.” Dennis stood up. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve got your back, Dennis, and now I know that I can trust you with mine.”

  “You mean to say that you doubted me before?”

  “Let’s just say that I wasn’t sure about your priorities, but I’m sure now.”

  “Good night, partner.”

  “Good night, Dennis.”

  Janet shut the door behind Dennis and pressed her back against it. Then she groaned with exasperation. “Good night, partner” were not exactly the words she wanted to hear from Dennis Walker, but apparently that was all she was going to get out of the man.

  Chapter 20

  Peter Laskin stared at his watch. He was supposed to meet Aileen Finnegan for drinks in exactly one hour. How hard could it be to take a woman out? The answer of course depended on who was being asked the question. If the question were directed at Dennis Walker, the answer would most likely be “a piece of cake” or something to that effect. But if the question were addressed at Peter, the answer would be “nerve-wracking,” especially when the outcome of the said invitation could impact Peter’s career. Peter had never been a ladies’ man, so the idea of using his male magnetism on Aileen Finnegan in order to get the needed evidence on Muller was as appealing to Peter as getting his chest waxed, not that he had ever waxed his chest, or planned to. He would rather spend hours behind his desk, analyzing rows of data, than take his chances romancing Aileen Finnegan.

  “Damn you, Walker,” Peter muttered. Despite the constant jabs, both Peter and Dennis had mutual respect, at least Peter hoped so. While he might not approve of all of Dennis’s investigation techniques, Peter recognized the results that Dennis achieved—the man had great instincts, and he had closed more investigations than anyone in the department. Still, Walker’s laurels did not give him the right to pressure others into adopting his tactics. Peter was particularly pissed off at Walker for putting Peter on the spot in front of Janet. But then the reason for Walker’s behavior was only too obvious: despite his numerous conquests, Walker had been pining for Janet ever since Janet had joined the department, and probably from even before then, since the time Walker had been assigned to an undercover job at Bostoff Securities. An assignment that was supposed to be Peter’s but had been snatched from under his nose by Walker. Not that Peter held a grudge against Walker, at least not for this particular incident. Despite the fact that most of the time all the attention was undeservedly lavished on undercover specialists, Peter liked working behind his desk. His analytical skills were his strongest point, and he was quite content with shining behind the scenes.

  So why on earth had he allowed Walker to bully him into romancing Aileen Finnegan? Peter did not really have an answer to this question—at least not the answer he was willing to admit. The embarrassing truth of the matter was that Peter liked Aileen, and part of him actually wanted to take her out, albeit under a different set of circumstances. True, she was no supermodel, but to Peter’s mind supermodels only looked good on TV, and even that was not always the case. But when it came to real women, Peter liked them to be, well, real. And Aileen was most definitely real. Some would argue that she was a bit too plump, but Peter liked it when a woman had some meat on her bones. He also liked it when a woman was genuine and sincere, and Aileen seemed to encompass all of these characteristics. In fact her only flaw was that she was foolish enough to fall for David Muller. Had Peter been left to his own devices, he would have liked to ask Aileen out, and he certainly would not make David Muller the subject of their conversation. But as things stood, Peter would be forced to do just that. Even worse was the fact that he had lied to her about his name: John Carry—what an idiotic moniker! Unfortunately that had been the combination that popped into his mind when he had to come up with an alias for himself at the Bostoff wedding, and now he was stuck with it. The lying made Peter feel even guiltier about using Aileen in order to get to Muller, but that was not the end of his worries. What if he grew to like Aileen even more? And, even worse, what if she grew to like him? What was he to do then? Manufacturing elaborate cover-ups was not Peter’s forte; in fact, the prospect of such activity seemed torturous to him. That’s it, Peter thought grimly as he rose from his desk, I’ll have this one date with her, and after that, Walker can date her himself if he wants to.

  ***

  Aileen Finnegan applied a powder puff to her face with trembling fingers. What was she doing going on a date with another man when she was in a relationship with David? She for one did not have an answer to this question. It all had happened so quickly that she barely had time to think. In the middle of a busy work day, her phone rang. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar, but she picked up, thinking that it might be a new business prospect. Her guess had turned out to be correct; well, sort of.

  “Aileen?” the voice on the phone asked tentatively.

  “Yes?”

  “This is John Carry. We were sitting at the same table at the Bostoff wedding.”

  And we also danced two foxtrots, Aileen thought, her memory of the occasion springing up with crystal clarity, in fact too much clarity for her taste. She had been upset by David’s abominable behavior, and she had wanted to do something, anything, to spite him, so she had danced with this John Carry character who kept pressing her against him rather closely, too close in Aileen’s opinion, but she had not resisted. Had in fact gone along with it, allowing this stranger she knew nothing about whisper pleasantries in her ear, and had given him her business card to boot. The next morning David apologized to her for his behavior, blaming it on work-related stress, and Aileen’s world became perfect again—well, almost perfect. She had forgotten all about John Carry but, apparently, he had not forgotten about her. “Yes, of course, I remember,” Aileen managed.

  “Y
ou are probably wondering why I’m calling. I was wondering if I might ask you for a bit of professional advice.”

  “Yes?”

  “I remember that you mentioned that you run a public relations company. I recently started an information security consulting business, and I was wondering if perhaps you could share some PR pointers with me.”

  Aileen resisted the irritation in her voice. When it came to her job, people often thought that she was the jack of all trades; to most, PR was PR was PR, but in reality public relations was a specialized trade just like any other profession. Aileen’s specialty was with non-profit and cultural institutions. Her clients ranged from kindergartens to boarding schools to universities to foundations, but never once had she represented an information security consulting business. She literally would not know where to start. “John, I’d love to help you, but unfortunately my specialty is in a different area. I don’t know much about information technology or computers. Heck, sometimes I can’t figure out even my own computer,” Aileen exaggerated, eager to bring this conversation to an end.

  “Well, I could certainly help you there. And while I appreciate that you may not work with information technology companies every day …”

  Try never, Aileen thought.

  “I would greatly appreciate any kernel of insight that you could spare. Dinner will be my treat.”

  How presumptuous, Aileen fumed inwardly. To think that she would agree to have dinner with a man she barely knew, but the invitation was also flattering. It was not as though men were lining up to ask her out on dates, but then this would not even be a date, but a business meal, not that Aileen would have anything valuable to contribute to the business matter at hand, but that was irrelevant, as John was clearly eager to see her, her lack of expertise on the subject notwithstanding. Come to think of it, her evenings looked pretty empty: David had said that he would be working late and had cancelled their dates for the week. Apparently, he had time to see her father: a disconcerting detail that Aileen had learned from her father when he told her that he had dinner plans with David. Lately it seemed that David spent more time with her father than he did with Aileen. “Very well,” Aileen agreed. “But don’t be surprised to leave the dinner none the wiser, as I am afraid that I won’t be able to provide much insight for your venture.”

  “Oh, I think you’re being overly modest. In fact, I’m sure of it. Do you like steak?”

  “Yes,” Aileen admitted. She had been staying clear of red meat for the past few months, but suddenly the idea of a splurge seemed like a good one. If she was going to sneak behind David’s back, she would do it while eating steak, not munching on some low-fat crap she had been living on for what now felt like an eternity.

  “So, how about seven p.m. on Wednesday at Del Frisco’s?”

  “Are you sure? Their steak is not cheap, and I do like meat.”

  “Positive. I have a feeling that it will be well worth my while.”

  “You said it; just don’t be disappointed if it turns out to be otherwise. See you on Wednesday.”

  “Until Wednesday.”

  But now that Wednesday was actually here, Aileen did not feel nearly as confident as she had been while chatting up John Carry over the phone. But then this was hardly surprising to her. The phone had always been her favored means of social interaction: engaging in flirty banter over the phone was one thing, but acting with the same cool, collected demeanor while staring into the man’s eyes from across the table was quite another.

  Half an hour later, Aileen walked into Del Frisco’s. It was seven p.m. on the dot. She inwardly cursed her ingrained punctuality. It was a professional habit of hers to always be on time for client meetings, but this meeting was not exactly a client meeting. In fact, she did not know how to categorize it. Please be here, she sent a mental plea to John Carry. The reality of meeting a man she had shared an overly close embrace with while dancing at the Bostoff wedding was bad enough; the prospect of waiting for him by the bar alone was mortifying.

  “Aileen, I’m so glad that you could come.” John Carry intercepted her before Aileen reached the hostess.

  “Hello. I said I’d come.” Aileen smiled, instantly relaxed by John’s eagerness.

  “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I won’t. The steak here is delicious.”

  The hostess escorted them to a window table. The dining room was crowded, and Aileen noted with a mark of approval that they were given a table that could seat four; at least John Carry was not skimping on the details.

  “Would you like to start with a cocktail?”

  Aileen almost blurted out that she would stick with water, which was what she had been doing in her relentless weight loss crusade, but then changed her mind. This morning, the scale had showed her the lowest number ever, and she thought that it was time for a little break. “I’ll start with an apple martini.”

  “Sounds excellent. I’ll have the same.”

  “So, John, how can I help you?” asked Aileen after the waiter had taken their orders.

  “Well, Aileen, it is really quite simple. I have been an information technology professional for almost fifteen years. It has always been a dream of mine to branch out on my own, and now I am finally ready to go out and do it.”

  Aileen frowned. “Ready to go out and do it? I thought that you already had an IT company?”

  John smiled apologetically. “I might have exaggerated a bit. I do have a company, that is on paper, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. It turns out that the whole business of getting clients is much more complicated than I anticipated.”

  “Do you at least have a website?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Aileen’s frown grew deeper. Either this John Carry character was not giving her the whole picture or he was a complete imbecile, and he just looked too intelligent to be an imbecile.

  “Perhaps I should be completely honest with you …”

  “That would be a good start.”

  “It is true that I have always wanted to start my own business, but my decision has been … how should I put it … a bit precipitated. You see, I got laid off from my job.”

  Aileen felt an immediate pang of remorse. The poor guy had come out on a limb, springing for a swanky dinner at Del Frisco’s in hopes of getting some pointers from her, and there she was, giving him a hard time. She would tell him everything she knew, and she would pick up the tab.

  “I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t mean to sound condescending or anything. Please, go on. I think there are a few things that I’ll be able to help you with after all.”

  “This pretty much sums it up. I’m still job hunting, but there seems to be nothing out there, so I thought I’d try to get my own business going instead.”

  “And what company did you work for before?”

  “Oh, just a mid-size IT company. We pretty much offered services to clients across all industries. Of course the big firms that have their own IT departments would never hire us, but the smaller firms that outsourced this sort of thing did. I’ve worked on systems for small financial firms, marketing agencies, and even some non-profits.”

  “Non-profits? I think I could help you there. Non-profit organizations are my specialty; I could recommend you to my clients. But first we need to get the basics set up.”

  Over dinner, Aileen proceeded to explain the importance of having a company website and gave John ideas on affordable advertising such as reaching out to the local newspaper and contacting the local Chamber of Commerce representative, for which Aileen happened to have the contact information. To her, these pointers were the basic postulates of a marketing plan for a successful business, but to John Carry they seemed to be pearls of wisdom, a reaction that Aileen found very flattering.

  When Aileen reached for the bill at the end of meal, John refused to hear of it.

  “I invited you, Aileen, and I intend to take care of the check,” he replied solemnly. �
��I may be out of a job but I have not sunk so low as to be forced to forsake my manners.”

  Aileen blushed. “Thank you, John. I only hope that the information I gave you will be helpful enough to cover the cost of this dinner.”

  “Oh, I am sure it will be. But to me, that is irrelevant.”

  After John settled the bill, he helped Aileen with her coat, and they headed toward the exit.

  “Thank you for a wonderful dinner,” said Aileen once they were standing outside.

  “Thank you, Aileen.” John paused, suddenly looking hesitant. “I don’t suppose you would be free to see me next week?”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I thought that your boyfriend might object.”

  “My boyfriend? I have lots of male clients,” Aileen replied gaily. “If my boyfriend were to object, he would have been driven mad with jealousy by now. But he seems to be too busy with his own affairs to pay me much mind, but somehow he always finds time to see my father.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yes, my father, the famous Cornelius Finnegan.”

  “The state attorney general?”

  “That’s right. I might as well put it out on the table since that’s the question everyone asks me when they meet me for the first time.”

  John coughed embarrassedly. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I was merely trying to point out that it’s a good thing that your boyfriend is getting along with your father.”

  “Oh, they get along all right. Sometimes I wonder which one of us David is really dating,” Aileen halted, cursing her uncontrolled blabber. It was the apple martinis combined with the bottle of red that followed afterwards sneaking up on her.

  John smiled, not at all abashed by Aileen’s frankness. “So are you free this Friday night?”

  Aileen considered her options. Her Friday evening loomed wide open, courtesy of David cancelling another one of their dates. She could spend the evening organizing some silly social event for the club with her mother, or she could do something fun. “I’m game if you are.”