by Gerri Hill
“No proof. Not me. Dee may have found something but she’s not shared. I know they found some bogus vendors but that money trail went cold.”
“Okay, so back to your frowning. We’re watching Duncan Frazier. But something you thought made you question it.”
Finn arched an eyebrow at her. “Think you can read me already, huh?”
Rylee gave her a rather flirty smile. “Yes, you’re easy to read.” She waved her hand in the air. “So tell me.”
“He’s got managers at each place. Surely they should know how much money they’re bringing in. How could he get that past them?” She leaned back in the seat. “Connie said he was very hands-on, involved in everything at every restaurant. So maybe the managers didn’t know.” She rolled her head to look at Rylee. “Or maybe the managers were involved. Maybe Daniel Frazier had nothing to do with it. Maybe he found out. Maybe that’s what he had on them. Something got him killed. Maybe that’s what they’re looking for.”
Rylee shook her head. “No. I don’t buy it. You own a successful business. You’re going to know how much money you’re making. You’ll know how much you’re supposed to make. No way the managers could pull that off.”
Finn let out her breath. “You’re right. Daniel Frazier knew. That doesn’t mean that one or more of his managers didn’t also know what was going on.”
“Where’s the money coming from?”
“Good question. Drugs? That seems to be the direction that the police are taking.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. Everything I could find on his background was squeaky clean. I don’t buy the drug angle.”
“How does this work? Someone with money approaches him, says we’ll give you X amount of money if you’ll wash the cash through the restaurant?”
“Something like that, yeah. Unless, of course, he’s involved directly.”
Rylee shifted in her seat. “Have the police questioned the children?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, Dee isn’t inclined to share a whole lot about the case with me.”
“Why not? You’re friends, aren’t you? Or…or is she…your girlfriend?”
“Not my girlfriend, no. But it’s an open case, ongoing investigation. Besides, she thinks I’m involved.”
“What? How could you be involved?”
“Inadvertently involved,” Finn clarified. “And we’re new friends. We haven’t shared deep, dark secrets with each other yet.”
There was a pronounced pause before Rylee spoke. “Do you have deep, dark secrets?”
Finn picked up the binoculars, scanning the pizza joint, surprised that she spied Duncan Frazier through the windows. He was behind the counter, talking with one of the employees. She lowered the binoculars slowly. Did she have secrets? Not really, no. She had been a little angry that Dee did a background check on her, though. She wasn’t sure why, really. She didn’t have anything to hide. She wasn’t an open book and had no desire to be one. But secrets? Or was Rylee referring to…that night? The night they’d spent together.
At her silence, Rylee must have assumed she’d asked the wrong question. She shifted again in the seat beside her.
“Do you mind if I run inside?”
Finn looked over at her then. “Restroom?”
Rylee almost blushed. “Yes.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
Rylee opened the door, but before she got out, she paused. “You won’t like…leave me here, right?”
“I won’t leave you. Hurry up.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rylee didn’t realize how hungry she was until she walked into the cantina. The smell of fresh tortillas wafted in the air and made her stomach rumble. Instead of heading to the restroom, she went to the bar, which was mostly empty at this early hour.
“Can I get an order to go?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man said, sliding a menu over to her.
She flipped it open. Finn hadn’t had breakfast. If she had to guess, she’d say that Finn hadn’t had dinner last night either. So something quick. Something easy to eat in the car. Tacos? Burritos? Was Finn a picky eater? No. She didn’t seem the type, although she was rather thin. She looked up into the mirror behind the bar and smiled at herself. Yeah, she was thin because she didn’t eat and didn’t sleep.
“Two beef tacos and two grilled chicken burritos,” she said, closing the menu and handing it over. “And…kinda in a hurry,” she added with a smile.
“You want a margarita while you wait?”
“Oh, no. Thank you.” Sure, if she were still a beach bum and it was still summer, a margarita sounded good. But she wasn’t a beach bum any longer. She had a job now. She was doing surveillance.
And she supposed she could see why Finn said it was the worst part of the job. She imagined boredom would set in quickly. But to her, it was nice to be included, nice that Finn was sharing tidbits about the case with her.
She frowned. Case? Finn seemed to think of it as a case, as if she were still a detective. What was happening was obviously personal to her. As she headed to the restroom, she made a mental note to pry just a little. Maybe Finley Knight did have deep, dark secrets.
* * *
Not that she thought Finn would actually leave her, but she was relieved to find her car still parked in the lot. It took much longer than she thought, but the food smelled divine.
“Thought I was going to have to send out a search party,” Finn drawled when she got back inside. “You fall in the toilet or something?”
“Funny. And thank you for not leaving me.” She was smiling as she opened the bag. “I was hungry and I did have breakfast. You must be starving.” She handed Finn one of the tacos. “I also got you a burrito.”
“Thank you.” She unwrapped the taco with a nod. “Yeah, starving. I missed dinner too.”
“I suspected as much.”
“It’s good. What do I owe you?”
“You don’t owe me anything. My treat.”
But Finn shook her head. “You haven’t had a job for months. You’ve drained your savings. I haven’t paid you anything yet. So no, not your treat. How much?”
“I haven’t totally drained my savings.” The taco tasted as good as it smelled and she nearly moaned at the first bite. “This could be my new favorite place,” she murmured with a mouth full.
“How much?”
“Oh, Finn…my treat. I’ll let you get lunch next time.”
Finn stared at her for a long moment then finally nodded, to Rylee’s relief. The meal wasn’t much more than twenty bucks and yes, her cash was dwindling fast but she would never tell Finn that. They ate silently and she was so absorbed in her taco that she nearly forgot why they were there. Finn, however, did not and she reached for her camera, snapping off a series of shots as two men walked toward the Dodge truck they were watching.
“The younger one is Duncan,” Finn supplied. “Don’t know the other.”
“Manager?”
“Could be.”
“Looks like they’re arguing.”
The binoculars replaced the camera and Finn kept her attention locked on the two men. Rylee wondered if perhaps Finn could read lips. It wasn’t long before the other man went back into the Pizza Jamboree and Duncan Frazier got into the truck. He backed out without looking, nearly running into a car that was coming into the lot. He left with a squeal of his tires.
Before she could even register it, Finn had the car started and was dashing out into traffic, maybe four or five cars behind the maroon truck. She couldn’t take the suspense any longer.
“Well?”
Finn glanced at her. “Well what?”
“What did they say?”
Finn only arched an eyebrow.
“You can read lips, right?”
At that, Finn laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but no. Besides, they were talking too fast. More animated than arguing, I think.”
“Oh. So where do you think he’s g
oing?”
“Don’t know.”
Rylee reached over and took the last of Finn’s taco from her lap and wrapped it up for her, adding it to the bag with the two burritos.
“Why do you always call me ‘kid’?”
“Because you’re a kid.”
“I’ll be thirty next month. Not a kid, but thank you, I guess.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Christmas Day.”
“Really? That must have sucked.”
Rylee laughed. “Yes, it did. I don’t think I ever had a proper birthday party.” She paused. “How old are you?”
Finn sighed but said nothing.
“What? You don’t seem the type to really care about age. I didn’t think you’d mind the question.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“I’ll guess—and don’t get offended if I’m wrong—fortyish.”
“Fortyish?”
She couldn’t tell if Finn’s tone was annoyed or not. “Well, you don’t really look forty…I would even go as low as thirty-five. But you seem older. Like…your mannerisms and such. And your sometimes grumpy attitude.” She waved a hand at her. “Of course, the way you dress—jeans and all casual and stuff—makes you look younger, I think.”
Finn continued to stare at the road and there was only a slight shake of her head.
“You’re really not going to tell me?”
“I’m older than you.”
Rylee let the subject drop as she also focused on the road ahead of them. They were now three cars behind the truck, whose right blinker was flashing. Instead of turning when it did, Finn stayed on the main road and headed across the JFK Causeway and over the bay, back into the city. When Finn offered no explanation as to why, Rylee had to bite her lip to keep her questions from spilling out.
“You’re about to explode,” Finn murmured after a while.
“Are you testing me or what?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…you didn’t follow him. Am I supposed to know why?”
Finn glanced over at her quickly. “Sorry. I’m used to doing this solo.” She looked into the rearview mirror. “Detective Woodard was two cars behind us. I’d just as soon she not spy me out here. Besides, he’s going back to his hotel. Same routine as the last few days.”
“Oh. What about his sister?”
“She went back to college. Semester is over on the thirteenth.”
Rylee nodded. “Why is Duncan staying at a hotel and not his parents’ house?”
“It was trashed…bloody. I doubt anything’s been done with it.”
“That’s so sad. The kids are young. Now both parents are gone. Must have turned their world upside down,” she offered.
Finn nodded. “Yeah. The murder of a parent can be rough.”
Rylee stared at her, seeing her tight grip on the steering wheel. The words were spoken with such conviction, such certainty, she wondered again what Finn’s past held. Was that a part of the deep, dark secrets she kept hidden?
Considering that Finn wouldn’t even tell her her age…she was fairly certain that revealing hidden secrets wasn’t going to be on the agenda anytime soon.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dee was surprised to find Finn’s car at her office. It was after eight and long ago darkness had swallowed up the misty city. Moonlight Avenue was dark and a little eerie with the fog from the bay drifting inland. She could barely make out the tops of the palm trees. Her headlights splashed across the front door when she pulled up beside Finn’s car. She left her lights on as she walked to the door, knocking loudly several times. She heard nothing from inside and couldn’t tell if there were any lights on. Instead of knocking again, she called Finn’s cell. When she thought it would go to voice mail, Finn finally answered.
“Detective Woodard…to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Open your damn door.”
“Is that you knocking?”
“Surely you were expecting me.”
She heard Finn sigh. “I suppose.”
The call ended and she slipped the phone into the pocket of her jacket. She turned her back to the door, looking up into the dark sky, wondering when they’d see the moon again. Or the sun, for that matter. It seemed like most of November had been cloudy and drizzly. She hoped December—which was only a day away—would offer more warmth and sunshine. With a sigh, she walked to her car and killed the lights.
She looked up when the door opened. Finn stood there in her normal attire—jeans and leather boots. She had a sweater pulled over a collared shirt today. She looked rather nice.
“You’re mad, I suppose,” Finn said, in lieu of a greeting.
“You think?”
Finn stepped back, letting her inside. She closed and locked the door, then walked down the hallway, bypassing her old office. Dee followed silently behind. Sitting on Finn’s desk was a bottle of scotch and a glass, perhaps a swallow or two remaining. Finn grabbed another glass from the credenza and held it up.
“Are you off duty?”
Dee nodded. “Although plying me with scotch won’t help your case.”
Finn shrugged slightly as she added a generous amount to the glass, then added more to her own. She offered the glass to Dee, then sat down at the desk.
“I like your new office,” Dee commented. “Quite a bit larger than your old one.”
“Yes. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Going to rent out the extra space again?”
Finn smiled. “I’m not sure Rylee would allow it. I think she’s got her sights set on getting that office someday.”
“Rylee? Your new receptionist?”
“She prefers assistant to receptionist.”
“She was the one with you today in the car? More than a little cute. Quite attractive.”
Finn ignored the question…and the statement. “Where were you?”
“In the same lot you were in.”
Finn took a swallow of the scotch, then set the glass down. “What interest do you have in Duncan Frazier?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Perhaps I was simply out to lunch.”
Dee leaned closer. “Let’s cut the crap, Finn. You have no business doing surveillance on Duncan Frazier.”
“Are you any closer to solving these murders?” She picked up her glass again. “Actually, Sammy’s is the only one of concern to me.”
“Are you just doing the legwork for me and then you’re going to present me with the suspect or do you plan to take out the guy when you find him?”
“I haven’t decided which.”
Dee shook her head. “I would like to think you’re joking, but I don’t believe you are.” She leaned back again. “I thought perhaps that whatever it is Michael Drake is looking for might very well be at one of the pizza places. What better way to get inside than by using Duncan.”
Finn nodded. “Great minds think alike. I’ve also been wondering about the affair.”
“What do you mean?”
“The purpose of the affair,” Finn clarified. “Something Connie Frazier said to me that day I stopped by. She said Drake—Mark Condra—had never been to her house. She said he wanted to, but she wouldn’t allow it. Said he asked—begged—to come over frequently, but she said no.”
“So what are your thoughts?”
“The purpose of the affair…to get into the Fraziers’ house. Whatever Daniel Frazier had, Drake obviously knew about it. I think the affair was a guise to get into the house.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Drug Connie or something. She’s unconscious. He’s got time to look around.”
“She comes to and thinks what? That it was really good sex?”
Finn gave a humorless laugh. “Considering the dreamy look she sported after being with him…yeah. But did Michael Drake know Daniel Frazier or did Drake work for someone else?”
“If he’s our killer—which we both thi
nk is the case—then he works for someone. As I said before. Professional, all the way around. This isn’t the first time he’s killed.”
“Connie didn’t know what he was looking for. I would go so far as to say she was in love with this guy. If he came to her house that fateful night, she willingly let him in.”
“No evidence of a break-in,” she confirmed.
Finn tapped the rim of her glass with her index finger. “If she knew what he wanted, she would have handed it over. No way she takes torture, not from a guy she’s been sleeping with.”
“So maybe it wasn’t Michael Drake.”
Finn shook her head. “Michael Drake wasn’t emotionally involved in any way. When I was watching the motel where they hooked up, when she left the room, the smile disappeared from his face as if someone had flipped a light switch. Whatever he was doing with Connie Frazier was strictly for show. Strictly business. Based on what I observed, I don’t think he would have had a hard time killing her.”
“Since we’re going with the assumption that he never found what he was looking for—”
“You’re at a dead end?” Finn guessed.
“Pretty much. The money trail was covered up so nice and tidy, there isn’t even a trail to consider.”
“Why haven’t the Feds swooped in yet? Money laundering gets them all excited.”
Dee shook her head. “Because we haven’t reported it yet. Mabanks wants to keep it in-house for now. Once they’re involved, they’ll swoop in as you say, shut the business down, and conduct an audit that’ll take months. Our murder investigation won’t be their main concern.”
“They might be able to find the money trail, get you some suspects.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, not with Daniel Frazier dead. The audit will tell them how much money got washed through, that’s about it. Where it came from is anybody’s guess.”
“Unless, of course, one of the managers was involved.”
Finn didn’t seem surprised by the statement. “One or more, yes.”
“The more people that are in the know, the harder it is to keep under wraps.”
“If you’re a manager, you’re going to have your hand in the books. You’re going to know how much money should be flowing through. From what I saw, this has been going on for five years or more.”