‘‘Don’t think so.’’
‘‘Where would they be now?’’ My adrenaline was in high gear. ‘‘Did he have a wife? Children? Someone who would have gotten his personal papers when he died?’’
‘‘Wife died years ago. ’Bout when my Mercedes was born. Didn’t never remarry. Had a son. Miguel. When Jesse died, he brung me a couple of boxes of keepsakes. Never did go through ’em.’’
‘‘Could we see them?’’ I asked.
‘‘Ain’t here. Not much room, what with my daughter and grandson and all. Didn’t want to get rid of ’em, though. Lot of history there. Didn’t seem right to just throw ’em away.’’
‘‘Where are they now?’’ I persisted.
‘‘Friend of mine lets me keep some stuff in his attic. They’d be there.’’
‘‘We’d like to see them, if you don’t mind, Officer.’’ The old man sat up straighter, looking me in the eyes without blinking. ‘‘You looking to make trouble for that boy?’’
‘‘No, sir.’’
Esteban took a long time measuring me. Weighing my worth, my integrity. Then he treated Connor to more of the same. In the end, I think it was Connor’s aura of respectability and the bonds of brothers in arms that swayed him.
‘‘I’ll get them for you. Can you come back tomorrow?’’
‘‘We’ll be here,’’ I assured him.
He ushered us to the door. ‘‘I think about him sometimes. The boy.’’
‘‘You did right by him,’’ Connor said.
The old man smiled a little. ‘‘Appreciate you sayin’ so. We tried. Skinny little kid. Not tough, not like teens is nowadays. Parents dead. In the big house by himself. Every day the same. Lots of money and nothing else. Just a big empty house and a raggedy old dog.’’
I stiffened. ‘‘A dog?’’
‘‘Yeah. Didn’t look like no purebred, neither, but that boy, he just kept hanging on to it for dear life. Reckon I don’t blame him. Not with the rest and all. I mean, he wasn’t never gonna have nothing again. Not really. Course, nobody loves a boy like his dog.’’
Chapter Twenty-one
‘‘A boy and his dog.’’
‘‘Lots of people have dogs, Sara.’’ We were driving back to the base.
‘‘I know. It’s just, well, that’s how I think of John. He’s obviously older, and Pavarotti isn’t the same dog, but isn’t he just an emotional kid still clinging to his best friend? Then there’s how much John Doe knew about Charles Smiths. What did you think?’’ I asked.
‘‘I think there are a lot of explanations for how John Doe ended up with the details of that murder scene.’’
‘‘I’m not saying you’re wrong. But don’t you think it’s at least possible that John Doe is Charles Smiths?’’
He checked the rearview mirror and passed a smoke-belching Chevy four-by-four.
‘‘Anything is possible.’’
‘‘The thing is,’’ I mused, ‘‘I’m not sure where that leaves us. We know that Henry DeVries was gunned down. We know that John Doe talked to him and knew things only someone very familiar with the murder of the Smithses could possibly know. We know that Charles Smiths witnessed the murder of his parents. We know Jack is Charles’s doctor. Maybe it’s time to talk to Jack.’’
‘‘He’s not going to tell us anything about a patient, even if he isn’t neck-deep up to no good.’’
‘‘He’s not going to tell you, maybe. I might have better luck.’’
‘‘No.’’
Touchy. Not that I blamed him. Jack was not to be trusted. Then again, keeping this enemy close might be worth the price of admission. ‘‘I’m not suggesting a solo. Would-be killers definitely require backup.’’
‘‘I control the sit,’’ he said flatly.
‘‘The what?’’
‘‘Situation.’’
‘‘You ought to come with cue cards.’’
He took the off-ramp. ‘‘I’ll work on that. It’ll have to wait until this afternoon. I’ve got another meeting I can’t get out of.’’ He glared at me. He did stern very well. ‘‘You are not doing this without me.’’
‘‘I am not doing this without you,’’ I dutifully repeated, putting my hand on my heart.
‘‘I mean it.’’
‘‘I don’t know why you’re so suspicious all the time. I said I wouldn’t go without you.’’
‘‘You have credibility issues.’’
‘‘Hey.’’
‘‘You know what I mean, Sara.’’
‘‘I can’t believe you’re still holding the psycho-killing pet sitter against me. One gun-toting lunatic in six months of marriage is a pretty good track record.’’
‘‘Three lunatics. The business partner and the secretary. Plus the shooter from the other night. Four.’’
‘‘That’s still not that many.’’
He groaned. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he frowned, then suddenly changed lanes. I turned around to see. A black Lexus sedan like a hundred others we’d seen.
‘‘What are you going to do while I’m working?’’
‘‘You mean whoever you assign to cover me won’t keep you informed? Report my every movement? Don’t bother to lie, Connor. You’re going to. I know you’re going to, and you know I know you’re going to.’’
‘‘I wasn’t going to lie.’’
That was probably true. There was no point. He was caught. Besides, I couldn’t see him as a casual liar. It would rub his moral streak the wrong way. I’d have to teach him, if he was ever going to be any good at it. ‘‘I’m going to rerun the background check on Charles Smiths. I think I’m going to spend some time checking out Jack, too, if that’s okay with you.’’
‘‘Paper chase only,’’ he said, adjusting the side mirror.
I glanced in my own. The Lexus was still in sight. Still three cars back. Or maybe it was another Lexus. I looked at Connor. His hands were loose on the wheel. He might appear casual, but he was radiating intensity. ‘‘Fine.’’
‘‘I mean it.’’
‘‘I said ‘fine.’ ’’
‘‘You fib.’’
‘‘You wound me, sir.’’
He shook his head, his eyes restlessly checking rear and side mirrors. ‘‘Somehow, I doubt it.’’
I ignored that. I might occasionally bend the facts a little. Maybe, once in a while, I embellished. Made a better story. And by better I meant less likely to make me look like an idiot, an incompetent, or a nut job. It wasn’t an easy road for me. Sometimes I felt like Lucy in the candy shop.
He reached over and pushed a curl behind my ear. He grinned at me. Not mad. Not mad was good. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
‘‘When do you have to be at this meeting?’’
‘‘Eighteen minutes.’’
‘‘And it’s important.’’
‘‘Unavoidable.’’
I leaned forward as far as the seat belt would allow. ‘‘Too bad.’’
‘‘Roger that,’’ Connor agreed with fervor.
He pulled in front of the office and parked. I looked for Blue or one of the other merry men. Today they were invisible. I’d have to try harder. Connor got out of the car and I slid behind the wheel. He leaned into the window.
‘‘Have I said I’m sorry about Lily?’’
‘‘Try it without your clothes.’’
‘‘Roger that.’’
Chapter Twenty-two
I was pulling out of the gates when my phone rang. ‘‘Hello?’’
‘‘You never call, you never write. Sniff, sniff.’’
‘‘Russ. Hey, honey, how are things in Seattle?’’
‘‘Sad and overcast without my bestest friend. Who never calls, et cetera, et cetera.’’
‘‘How’s Tony?’’
‘‘Celebrating his taste in men.’’
I laughed. I missed Russ. ‘‘As well he should.’’
‘‘How is Connor? Mourning my absence?’’
‘
‘He’s hiding it well.’’ I moved into the right lane so I wouldn’t have to keep up on the speedway while talking on the phone.
‘‘What else has been going on?’’
‘‘I’ve met the family.’’
‘‘Dish, girl.’’
‘‘Well, the father seems nice. The mother scares me. The little brother is adorable, and the sister is married to a bastard I’m thinking about framing for murder.’’
‘‘Ooh, a group project. I’m in.’’
‘‘Then there’s the ex-fiancée who is still wearing a McNamara family heirloom on the third finger of her left hand. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, of course.’’
‘‘They all are. Is this the murder we’re using to frame the asshole brother-in-law?’’
‘‘I’ve already got a dead body.’’
‘‘Throw one in for luck.’’
I laughed so hard I nearly sideswiped a soccer mom in an SUV. She spoke fluid hand gesture.
‘‘I wish you were here.’’ My heart ached a little. Connor might have the Norman Rockwell family portrait, but I had Russ. We were our own kind of family.
‘‘One word and I’m down there removing Barbie’s digits, baubles and all.’’
‘‘You’re the best.’’
‘‘Tell me something I don’t know. Listen, sweetie, I have to run, but I wanted to check something with you. The news desk called to tell me someone checked on Alex French’s credentials. That wouldn’t be you, would it?’’
‘‘I should have called. I need to use your alter ego.’’
‘‘Is it in a good cause?’’
‘‘Not at all.’’
‘‘That’s my girl. No worries. The department has strict orders to play along anytime anyone calls to check out Alex. What is she working on today?’’
‘‘She’s a romance writer working on an article that will serve as psychiatric background for her next book.’’
‘‘That woman gets around. Tomorrow he’s doing a lifestyle piece on up-and-coming male models.’’
‘‘After the sex change?’’
‘‘It’ll be a busy day.’’
‘‘Thanks for letting me borrow your get-invited-anywhere imaginary friend.’’
‘‘Mi amiga es su amiga. Love you, babe. Bye.’’
I went back to the condo and spent several hours playing desk jockey, chasing background details for our players. It was tedious but necessary. I checked the street every hour or so, trying to spot my shadow. No luck. No dog, either. It was downright lonely. I was debating leaving the condo for the sole purpose of amusing myself by flushing out my protector when Connor strolled in.
‘‘ ’Bout time.’’
He stopped with his lips halfway to my cheek. ‘‘For what?’’
‘‘I’ve got a plan.’’
‘‘Oh, brother.’’
‘‘It’s a good plan.’’
He rolled his eyes. Ignoring me, he went to the kitchen and came back with an iced glass of something. Not beer. Good. That meant he thought I was going to talk him into something that would require he keep his wits about him. I waited. He drank and paced and finally settled in the recliner opposite me.
‘‘Let’s hear it, then,’’ Connor said.
‘‘Jack’s got a wandering eye.’’
‘‘So?’’ The glass was set down hard. ‘‘No. Absolutely not.’’
‘‘I’m not going to sleep with him.’’
‘‘You’re sure as hell are not.’’ He was yelling.
‘‘I’m merely suggesting that a man thinking with his other brain might be more amenable to sharing what he knows,’’ I said matter-of-factly, as if I’d played Mata Hari before and it was no big deal. Except it was.
‘‘I don’t want him near you.’’
‘‘I don’t either, sweetheart.’’ I patted his leg. ‘‘I just want to know what he knows about Charles Smiths.’’
He sighed. He might not have been the one to tell his team I was hot, but I’d lay odds crazy came from him. I’d been good all afternoon. I’d done what I was told in the comfort and relative safety of his kitchen. Unfortunately, my good-girl streak didn’t run very deep. I was ready for some action.
‘‘So what’s the plan?’’ Connor asked.
‘‘I don’t know. Short skirt. Plausible story. I called and made an appointment. I’m a writer. I used Russ as a reference.’’
‘‘When?’’
I needed to learn not to share details. He was too quick on the pickup, and I could do without a brouhaha because I’d started this ball rolling without him.
‘‘From everything I’ve heard’’—I continued on my own agenda—‘‘Jack’s got an ego the size of the Space Needle. With the parents’ murders, Charles Smiths must be one of the war stories he tells at parties. Names removed for confidentiality, naturally.’’
‘‘He’s a psychiatrist. You’re not an actress. He’ll see you coming a mile away.’’
I shook my head. ‘‘He doesn’t know me. He has no reason to be suspicious. Besides, in my experience, egomaniacs are always sure they’re the smartest person in the room. They get blindsided because it doesn’t occur to them that they can be had.’’
I’d done it before. Sometimes Russ and I made a game of it. Usually the more outrageous the story, the more likely we were to be believed. Egomaniacs never called you a liar to your face. They looked down on you with smug expressions and unwarranted complacency that they could not be made a fool of.
‘‘I want this in a public place,’’ Connor said, resignation in his voice.
‘‘I was thinking more along the lines of his office.’’
‘‘No way.’’
He’d try to tie me to a chair pretty soon. And he thought I was in danger. Sweet, but foolish. ‘‘We can set up backup. I’ll be completely safe. You’ll be watching out for me.’’
‘‘Do you have any idea how much he could hurt you in the time it takes me to get into the building? I won’t be able to be inside.’’
‘‘I can take care of myself. He won’t be the first octopus I’ve handled, Connor.’’ I rolled my eyes. ‘‘There are a lot of them out there, and I was single a long time.’’
Just the thought of Jack’s hands on me was enough to make the bile rise. If he tried anything, I’d castrate him.
‘‘This is nuts,’’ Connor said for the tenth time.
We were sitting in his car two blocks from the little house that Jack used as an office. We’d stopped at the mall for supplies. When I’d come out of the dressing room, Connor gulped audibly. Yep. There were a few universal truths about straight men. That they were visual was pretty near the top of the list.
‘‘It’s a great plan.’’ I tugged at the short leather skirt. Connor watched my every move. It was turning me on. I was definitely going to wear this later. Under different circumstances. He reached out and I slapped his hand away. It was either that or jump him in the front seat of the car in the middle of broad daylight. The sacrifices I made for my job.
‘‘It’s not my fault that skirt is giving me ideas.’’
‘‘Lint gives you ideas. Focus, please.’’ I leaned forward in the seat to check the mute button on my phone. My blue silk blouse gaped open. Connor sucked in a breath.
‘‘Need help?’’ he offered.
I looked at him, shaking my head, tugging the short red wig over my curls. ‘‘We don’t have time for your kind of help.’’ I squirmed in the passenger seat. ‘‘Or room, frankly.’’
‘‘I’ll buy an SUV tomorrow.’’
Connor the problem solver. I shook a finger at him. ‘‘First rule of spies, remember: Don’t get caught. Being in flagrante in the middle of the afternoon in this nice neighborhood in a convertible practically guarantees we’d . . . what was it you called it? . . . botto, something, anyway, flunk the first rule.’’
‘‘Bolo. We call it bolo.’’
‘‘Okay, bolo, then. Besides, I thought you were all hot to get t
he goods on your soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law. What about Siobhan?’’
‘‘I’m hot, all right, but it doesn’t have anything to do with my sister. You’re right. Business first. You good on the plan?’’
‘‘It’s not that complicated, Connor. I’m a writer looking for background. I get him to talk about himself. That’s cake. He’s a guy and, from everything everyone says about him, a pompous ass to boot. I try to find out about Charles Smiths in hypothetical terms. I try to get him to describe the real one. Then I seduce him on the desk so you can dissect him with a clear conscience.’’
‘‘That’s not funny. Although it has a certain appeal.’’
‘‘Relax, Connor. He called to check on my background. He won’t ask again.’’
‘‘He’s not stupid.’’
‘‘Neither are you, but your brain isn’t exactly operating at peak proficiency at the moment, is it? What is it with men and the happy-hooker look?’’ I pulled at the hem. ‘‘Even the best of you turns drooly at the first sign of thigh.’’
‘‘Yeah, well, I’m allowed. I’m not thrilled you’re using it on him. We know he doesn’t respect women.’’
‘‘Which is why you’ll be listening to every slobbering word. Really, Connor, what’s the big deal?’’
‘‘The big deal is he’s married to my sister and he shouldn’t be putting the moves on other women.’’
‘‘We don’t know he’ll put the moves on me. Maybe he’s strictly into blondes. Does this look okay?’’ I tugged at the wig. ‘‘Am I an ironed Little Orphan Annie?’’
‘‘He’ll put the moves on you. He’s a philandering bastard. Besides, in that outfit, you’d have monks walking into walls. You’re fine.’’
‘‘Fine as in fiiiine, or fine as in Bozo the Clown with breasts?’’
He tucked the red hair behind my ears. ‘‘Fine as in if he touches you he’s going to bleed. Get in. Get what you need. Get out.’’
I saluted. ‘‘Aye-aye, Cap’n.’’ I kissed him. I meant it to be a soothing kiss, but Connor didn’t believe in kissing for comfort. I was breathing hard when it ended. I fanned my face. Shook my head to clear it. ‘‘Well, okay, then. Relax. This is easy-schmeezy.’’
‘‘You’re probably right. I’m a macho jerk. I hate thinking of you sashaying into his office in that getup.’’
Doggone Page 18