Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 02 - A Deadly Bargain, Plan C

by Gina Cresse

  I raised my eyebrows and held my hand to my chest. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Come on.”

  I followed the guard out of the cell and down the hall. We pushed through a door. My eyes lit up when I saw Jason and Dan Cooper waiting for me.

  “Am I glad to see you guys. I was afraid I’d be spending the night here.”

  Dan shook his head and wagged his finger at me. “What sort of trouble are you in now?”

  For someone whose long-term goal was to attain a carefree, happy-go-lucky existence, I’d failed miserably. “Big trouble,” I moaned.

  “I guess so. Had to pull some mighty big strings to get you released to my custody. Officially, you’re my prisoner.”

  “Well, get me out of here. You won’t believe the story I have for you this time.”

  I sat in the passenger seat of Dan’s car and listened to Jason point out every fast-food restaurant between the Eighth Precinct and the San Diego Marriott. Dan pulled into the hotel parking lot and drove around to the back.

  “Got you a room on the seventh floor. Jason can crash in my room.”

  I eyed the elegant resort hotel hedges, shimmering in the moonlight. It was almost eerie without so much as a leaf moving. The grounds were immaculate—perfectly manicured. The palms were flawlessly trimmed. Lights shone on every tree. “Jeez. Tax dollars keep you up in style.”

  Dan pointed his finger at me. “Don’t complain or I’ll put you up at the Motel 6 down the road.”

  I checked my watch—two in the morning. “You think room service is still operating? I’m starving.”

  Dan opened his door. “I doubt it. Room’s got a snack bar. Help yourself. It’s on the taxpayers.” He winked.

  We rode the elevator to the seventh floor and Dan let Jason into his room. Jason plopped down on one of the beds and was out cold before his head hit the pillow.

  Mine was the adjoining room. Dan handed me the key and followed me in. I made a beeline for the bathroom. I washed my hands and splashed cool water on my face. Feeling somewhat refreshed, I wandered back out to the room and collapsed on the bed.

  “Don’t you fall asleep yet. I want the Reader’s Digest condensed version of this fiasco—right now. In the morning, you can fill in the details.” Dan sat at the table and scribbled some notes in his little black notebook.

  I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. “Jeez. Where do I start? It’s all a blur. Oh, yeah. It started back in Long Beach, when I bought the trunk from Clancy.”

  The last thing I remember mumbling was something about Mohammed Aziz and I wondered how he fit into the picture.

  I was deep into one of my Tom Selleck dreams when the phone on the nightstand rang in my ear and startled me out of my happy little fantasy. I glared at the clock. Seven A.M. My hand reached for the phone and dragged it across the pillow to my head.

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Dan Cooper’s voice boomed, cheerily, into my ear.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, waking me up at this hour,” I grumbled into the phone.

  “Rise and shine. Come on. Breakfast here is great! I’ll give you ten minutes.”

  “I don’t know what planet you’re from, but typical Earth women require a minimum of twenty minutes to get presentable in the morning—and that’s just barely presentable. I’ll need thirty—at least,” I groaned. I clumsily hung up the phone and staggered out of bed. My number-one priority was to find a toothbrush and a long shower.

  I sat in the corner booth between Jason and Dan. Jason ordered pigs-in-a-blanket. Dan watched, incredulously, as Jason proceeded to smear mustard and ketchup on his breakfast. Jason looked up at the two of us, gawking at his plate. “What? It’s not that much different than a hotdog,” he said.

  Dan shook his head. “I made some calls this morning. Your hunch was right about Mohammed Aziz. He is in town. Has a place here, somewhere. Showed up a couple days ago, with a friend.”

  I swallowed a bite of my bran muffin. “Friend?”

  “Yeah. One of the bad guys. Known terrorist. We keep a close eye on our Middle-Eastern visitors. Haven’t given us any clues what they’re up to, yet.”

  I shoved a whole strawberry in my mouth, bit it twice and struggled to keep the juice from running down my chin before I tried to speak. “Great. You must know where they are. We can go check them out,” I said.

  He smirked at me. “There’ll be no ‘we.’”

  “But I want to—“

  “But, nothing. You’ve managed to get yourself in enough trouble.”

  “I can help, really—“

  “When I need your help, I’ll let you know. Until then, you do as I say—got it?”

  “No, I don’t ‘get it.’ Spencer could be in real trouble and it’s my fault. How can you expect me to just sit here and do nothing?” I persisted.

  “Are you hearing impaired?” Dan complained.

  Jason laughed. “That’s funny. She is hardheaded, isn’t she? I like to think of her as ‘authority challenged.’”

  I glared at them both. “Go ahead, mock me, but it’s a free country. Last I checked, and you can’t keep me prisoner here against my will.”

  “Correction. You are my prisoner. Remember? Willis and I can go check out Aziz and his amigo. He’s meeting me here at ten. You, my dear, are planting your little fanny in that hotel room upstairs, and Jason is going to make sure you stay put.” He pointed a threatening finger at me.

  “Willis? But I-–“

  “Yes, Willis. You remember him? My partner? The one who’s highly trained in dealing with terrorists. The one who can shoot the cap off a beer bottle at a hundred yards. The one I trust with my life.”

  I slid two inches down in the booth like a child who’d just been scolded for talking in church. He’d taken the wind out of my sails when he reminded me that I wasn’t nearly as free as I thought.

  Jason gulped down the last swallow of his Coke, then signaled the waitress for a refill. “Don’t worry, Dan. I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble. Some great movies are playing on Pay-Per-View. We’ll just veg out in front of the TV until you get back.”

  I smirked at Jason, then turned to Dan. “That’s right. We’ll just become vegetables and sit idly in front of the idiot box waiting for your return.” The sarcasm in my voice was obvious.

  “Good.”

  Dan paid the bill, then escorted Jason and me back up to his room. I filled Dan in on every detail I could think of since the whole caper started back in Long Beach. At nine forty-five, the phone in Dan’s room rang. He grabbed it.

  “Cooper. Oh, hey Tom. I’ll be down in five. Meet me in the lobby.” Dan hung up the phone. “Okay. I’m out of here.”

  He stood and pointed his finger at me. “You, young lady, had better not budge from this room.”

  Jason grabbed the remote control off the nightstand. “Not to worry. I’m in charge now.” He powered on the TV and started flipping through the channels.

  Dan flashed me an uneasy smile, then let himself out of the room.

  I parted the curtains and glanced down the seven floors to the parking lot. A collection of cabs were lined up along the curb, waiting to take busy travelers to the airport, or wherever else they needed to go. I watched Dan Cooper and Tom Willis pile into their government-issue car and pull out into the heavy traffic. I thought about Spencer and what kind of trouble he might be in. The heavy weight of guilt felt like it might overwhelm me. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

  “I’m gonna get some ice,” I announced.

  “Ice? What for?” Jason demanded.

  “Because I want ice—okay?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “About as far as I can throw you.”

  “I’m getting ice. I’ll be right back,” I insisted.

  I marched out of the room. The elevator was at the other end of the long hallway. I sprinted for it. Jason’s voice followed me down the corridor. “Darn you, Devonie! Get
back here! Let the authorities handle this!”

  The elevator door closed with me inside, right before Jason reached it. I smiled and waved to him, then pushed the button for the lobby and felt my stomach rise as the elevator descended. I contemplated how I was going to pay the cab fare, but decided I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.

  The elevator doors opened and my jaw dropped. Dan Cooper and Tom Willis stood in front of me, smiling. They each took one giant step into the elevator and grabbed my arms. Dan pressed the button for the seventh floor.

  I gawked at them. “You left. I saw your car—“

  Dan slung his heavy arm over my shoulder. “Figured you were watching. We just made a quick trip around the block. A little test, I guess you’d say.” Dan looked over at his partner, Tom Willis. “I’d say she failed, wouldn’t you, Tom?”

  Tom nodded his head. “Big time.”

  “Now. You’re not gonna try it again. Right?” Dan lectured.

  I nodded.

  “And where are we going right now?” he continued.

  “Room seven twenty-eight?” I replied, as innocently as I could.

  “That’s right. Do I need to put an armed guard at the door?”

  “No. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  The elevator doors opened to reveal Jason, ready to jump in. Dan marched me out of the elevator. “You let me down, Jason,” Dan said.

  “I know. Sorry. She’s just so…so—“

  “Hardheaded?” Dan offered.

  “That, too.”

  I plopped down on the bed and watched the opening credits roll for some action-packed thriller, guaranteed to keep me on the edge of my seat to the very end.

  Jason scowled at me. “Don’t you try that again. I promised Dan I’d keep you out of trouble.”

  I scowled back at him. “Be quiet. I’m trying to watch the movie.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Jason ordered us room service for lunch. I had no change to tip the bellboy. I gave Jason the same look my mother used to give my father when he failed to compliment Grandma on her cooking. Jason was clueless. Finally, I stuck my elbow in his ribs. “Are you going to tip him or should I offer to wash his car?”

  “Huh? Oh, right.” Jason handed him a dollar and then lifted the lid off his entree.

  I sat Indian style on the bed with my lunch tray spread out in front of me. I took a bite of a carrot, then picked up the phone. I dialed my number and listened to my messages as the crunching of the carrot between my teeth echoed in my ear. My jaw quit grinding the food, much the same way a horse stops chewing when startled by a sudden sound. I perked up my ears and listened.

  Jason noticed my sudden concern. He sat on the edge of the chair and watched me. “What? What?”

  I shushed him and held the phone tighter against my ear, my free hand covering my other ear to muffle outside noise.

  I replayed the message. His voice was barely audible. “It’s Spencer. Call your friend at the FBI. That Aziz guy—he’s one of ‘em. If we don’t stop ‘em by three, it’s all over for…oh, jeez—they’re coming. I’m at…shoot…where the heck am I? I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ll call you back in—” Click. The line went dead.

  I pushed my lunch tray out of the way and scrambled for my shoes. “Come on. We’ve gotta get going.”

  “No way. Dan said to stay—“

  “I know what Dan said. Spencer’s in trouble. Real trouble! If we don’t get to him by three—I don’t even want to think about what might happen. You coming or not?”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I flipped open the Yellow Pages. My finger ran down the list of car dealers in San Diego until it landed on the one I was after. “Let’s go.”

  Jason complained non-stop as he withdrew eighty dollars from the ATM machine in the hotel lobby. “Dan’s gonna kill me for letting you do this,” he grumbled.

  I flagged down a cab and we jumped in the back. “Harbor and twenty-ninth,” I blurted.

  The cab driver took the toothpick out of his mouth and dropped it in the ashtray. “Sure thing. You two on vacation?”

  Jason started to chat. “Oh, no. We both live—“

  “Yes. We’re on vacation. From Ohio. San Diego’s such a beautiful city.” I flashed my mother’s look at Jason again.

  “Right. Ohio. Brought the little woman out West to see some stars.” Jason winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

  The cabby smiled at us in the rear-view mirror. “Ohio. My sister’s in Ohio. What part you from?”

  I racked my brain for a city name. “The middle.”

  Jason shot me a sideways glance and mouthed the word “middle?” at me.

  The cabby chuckled. “What city, I mean?”

  “Oh. Uh…Toledo,” I stammered.

  Jason shook his head at me.

  “Toledo? Isn’t that up North?” The cabby glanced over his shoulder to change lanes.

  I searched Jason’s expression. He nodded at me. “Yes, it is. When I said middle, I meant the middle of nowhere.”

  The cabby laughed. I changed the subject as quickly as I could.

  Jason paid the fare. We were barely three steps out of the cab when we were greeted by a salesman at the sidewalk. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Grovesner Mercedes. Can I show you one of the most beautiful cars in the world?”

  I flashed him a smile. “Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Grovesner. Is he in?”

  “Lou? Yeah, I think so. Right inside.” He pointed out a man to us through the glass windows. “That’s him, there.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Jason followed me inside. I approached the man identified as Lou. He was busy reading through a contract. “Excuse me. Mr. Grovesner?”

  He looked up from his papers. “Depends. You from the IRS?”

  I exchanged a glance with Jason.

  “Just kidding. I’m Lou Grovesner. What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help, Mr. Grovesner.”

  “Please…Lou. What is it? I aim to please.”

  “I need the current address of someone who bought a car from you recently.”

  “Address? I’m sorry, but I can’t give out that kind of information. Privacy laws, you know.”

  I wonder when it was that we voted on all these laws. There’s a law for everything these days. “It’s really important. Someone’s life may depend on it.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your names,” Lou continued.

  “Devonie Lace. This is—“

  “Jason. Jason Walters,” Jason offered.

  “Devonie. I’d like to help you out, but I just can’t bend the rules.”

  Couldn’t this man take what I just said at face value, realize a person’s life could depend on information he has, and have enough heart to help, regardless of the rules? I glanced around the showroom. There were a dozen people milling around, admiring the luxury cars. “Do you have an office where we can talk privately?”

  “I do, but we can talk here, Devonie. There’s just no way—“

  “I saw your wife yesterday, Lou,” I interrupted, looking as concerned as I could.

  Lou raised a brow. “My wife? But she was…yesterday?”

  “That’s right. Eighth Precinct. She seemed like a very compassionate person. Maybe she could convince you to help me.”

  Lou took me by the arm. “My office is this way.”

  Lou escorted us into his private office. Jason and I sat across from him at his desk. “Now, what kind of scam are you trying to pull?” His pleasant, aim-to-please voice turned sour.

  “It’s no scam, Lou. A friend of mine is in terrible danger, and Mohammed Aziz is the cause of it. I need to find him, and you sold him a car recently. You must have an address where he’s staying in San Diego.”

  Lou fiddled with a mechanical pencil, dropping the long, thin lead on the floor. “You saw my wife?” he asked as he bent over to pick up the lead.

  “Yes. Lovely woman,
but very sad. You should try to get her some help.” I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Please, Mr. Grovesner. You’d be doing a good thing by helping me. Otherwise, I might have to go to my friend down at the Tribune. He sometimes can get information for me—but he usually wants something in return.”

  Lou put the pencil back in its holder. His lips straightened into a tight thin line. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.” Lou rolled his chair out from behind the desk and stalked out of the room.

  Jason waited for the door to close. “What’ve you got on him?”

  “His wife is…well…I’ll tell you later.”

  “What? Tell me now. How do you know his wife?”

  “She was in jail yesterday.”

  Jason’s eyes lit up. He wanted the dirt, and he wanted it now.

  Lou popped his head back in. “Just one more minute. I’m having one of the girls get that address for you.”

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, Lou.”

  Five minutes later, Lou returned with a yellow sticky note. An address and phone number were scribbled on it. He handed it to me. “You didn’t get this from me—or anyone else here. Deal?”

  I nodded and slipped the paper in my pocket. Lou walked to the door and waited for us to leave, with not so much as a polite smile.

  I stood up and Jason followed my lead. “Thank you, Lou. I really appreciate this.” I checked my watch. “You know, you should take your wife out to lunch—maybe even a matinee. She’s probably just crying out for some—“

  “Thanks for the advice.” His eyes shot up toward the ceiling. “I’ll think about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

  The taxi dropped us off in front of Jason’s house. I slid out of the cab and waited while Jason paid the fare. I watched as Jason’s neighbor wandered slowly around the Jeep parked in his driveway, periodically bending over to peer under the vehicle. When he saw Jason arrive home, he strolled over to the curb.

  “Hey, Jason.”

  Jason turned to greet him. “Matt! You’re back. How was the vacation?”

  “Great! Not long enough.”