by Ellen Butler
“We have our ways,” he repeated.
Realizing it was likely they’d illegally tapped Tazim’s phone, I blew out an audible sigh.
“Relax. We’re the good guys. Remember?” he cajoled.
“You know what—forget it. I don’t want to know. Tell me, are the police involved?”
“I’ve been talking with a detective I know at D.C.P.D. who works for the Intelligence Unit. They’ve been trying to shut this Russian family down, but nothing sticks. Tazim may be the catalyst. They’re surveilling the fence.”
“I see.” I fidgeted with my earring again.
“Hey. This is good news. If all goes well, Sadira will be out by the weekend.”
“Right, right. Great.”
“That doesn’t sound great. What’s going on?”
“It’s—” I struggled to put into words my confusion over Sadira. Rick’s new revelations about Tazim toppled all of Jillian’s conjectures, and my own, on their head. “It’s nothing. I believe I’ve allowed my sister to spin me up and go against my better judgement.”
“You were thinking Sadira had actually stolen the gems,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Maybe. Yes,” I confessed, “we thought there might be a possibility.”
“Because?” he drawled.
I squirmed in my seat, a bit embarrassed to confess, “We found a hidden safe in her apartment.”
“Lots of people have safes in their homes.”
“True.”
“People keep money, jewelry, personal property titles, birth certificates—”
I interrupted his list. “Court documents.”
“Correct. We didn’t find a safety deposit box for Sadira at her bank. She probably keeps her documents at home. It’s smarter than leaving them in a desk drawer.” His arguments, delivered in a no-nonsense style, made me realize I’d gone against commonsense and followed my sister down a rabbit hole.
“Yes. You’re right. Of course.” If Sadira had her birth certificate and court documents from her name change in that safe, it could be the very reason she didn’t want Jillian to open it. She’d changed her name for a reason and seemed very protective of her old life. Even if she had a juvie record, as far as I could tell, she was on the straight and narrow path now. Still, hanging out in jail seemed a bit extreme to hide your childhood identity from a person who’s shown you nothing but friendship. On the other hand, if she did a stint in juvie, maybe jail wasn’t too difficult for her to handle. “Thanks, Rick.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And, Cardinal, bring your stun gun. I want to make sure you know what you’re doing with that thing.” He hung up before I could answer.
I stared blankly out of the windshield, trying to put all the pieces together. Were Jillian and I a pair of fools searching for conspiracies around every corner? Did my past dealings with nefarious characters cloud my judgement? Was Jillian creating schemes because she was bored, or was she simply angry at her friend who’d broken her trust? I loved my sister, but growing up, she always had a tendency toward drama. She’d been a terrible gossip in high school—a trait she’d forsaken after rumors turned back on her in the summer between her junior and senior years.
Jillian trotted into my line of sight, carrying a case of cat food and a bag of kitty litter. She tossed it into the back of her car, then got into the passenger seat of my car.
“Did you get everything put away?” I asked.
“She’ll never know.” She wiggled her fingers at me.
“What about the cash?”
“Blue envelope is back in the glovebox. What did you find out from your friends?”
“Well, it looks like we’re barking up the wrong tree. Tazim reached out to a fence with a bunch of diamonds to sell.”
“No,” she breathed.
“Yup. The exchange will happen soon. The police will be involved. If all goes as expected. Sadira will be out this weekend,” I said succinctly with little inflection.
“Well, hm.”
“Just so.”
“I still think the envelope full of cash is suspicious.”
I pursed my lips. “It does seem odd, but Sadira did perform a service. Maybe part of what those people are purchasing is Sadira’s discretion. It did seem to be a pretty fancy party.”
Jillian shifted to face me. “You know, she could be couriering other things—like drugs.”
My brows rose. “Perhaps. But we have absolutely no proof she’s ever done anything like that.” I raised a finger, cutting off my sister’s rebuttal. “Or that she’s involved with drugs or anything else illegal for that matter.”
Jillian harrumphed and crossed her arms.
“By the way, did she ever tell you that Sadira was not the name she grew up with?” I asked the question simply, keeping all manner of accusation out of my tone.
“As a matter of fact, she did. Said her childhood sucked and that she wanted to get rid of all memories of it.”
I tilted my head in surprise. “She told you that?”
“Well, something like it. When I asked her what her real name was, she basically shut me down.” Jillian shrugged. “And then the fashion show started, and nothing more was said about it. Why?”
“No reason.”
“Was she a bank robber or did she murder her parents in their sleep and then change her name?” Jillian leaned forward, her eyes wild. “And she’s on the run? And now we know who and where she is, we can tell the police, and you’ll be protected because she misrepresented herself to you?”
I pulled back and choked out, “Lord, no! Jilly, you should write thrillers with that imagination.”
“Maybe I will. I’ll call it Murder in the Night. Mwahaha!” She laughed like a character in an old B-movie horror flick, tapping her two forefingers together.
“Her parents are alive and well and living in Oklahoma, as far as I’m aware,” I said archly.
She dropped her nefarious character act. “Bummer. Thought we were on to something exciting for a moment.”
“No, it looks like we’ve simply allowed our imagination and prejudices to jump to conclusions.” I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes.
“Oh, come on.” Her hand whacked my shoulder and my eyes popped open. “Admit it, there were some weird things going on. We just followed the trail.”
“No. You pried into your friend’s private files. A person who trusted you.”
Jillian folded her arms in front of her chest. “She still lied to me.”
“And apologized for that lie,” I pointed out.
“Well, if Tazim really did steal those jewels, then I do feel bad. But what about the girl who threw the milkshake at the car? She’s got something against Sadira.”
“Like you said—disgruntled student. Whatever the case, I suggest you let Sadira know what happened when she gets out of the clink. If that girl is on drugs, she might be a danger to Sadira.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So—want to grab some chow?”
“No. As fun as this adventure has been today, I now have to catch up on work. There’s a swath of emails in my inbox that need answering,” I replied tersely.
A crestfallen look crossed her features and her mouth drew in. “Fine.” She opened the door to step out.
Feeling guilty for my irritation, I grabbed her arm. “Jilly, wait. I’ve been . . . meaning to talk to you about . . . taking some self-defense classes. I’ve been taking them for a while now and was wondering if you wanted to join me. I think it would be good for you to have some skills.”
Her pinched demeanor changed to hesitant interest. “Sure, okay. How much do they cost?”
“I’ll take care of your first lesson. If you like it, we’ll figure something out. Meet at my place tomorrow evening at six. I’ll drive.”
“Okay, great. Uh, thanks for inviting me.”
“Don’t be bummed about the Sadira stuff. We just got carried away.
These self-defense classes will cheer you up and take your mind off everything. I know the teachers. They’re really good at their job and will prepare you to . . . well . . . to defend yourself, should the need ever arise.”
Confusion crossed her pretty features. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No. It’s simply smart for single women like us to be prepared for anything. You watch the news, violence can happen anywhere.”
“Like today? With that girl?”
“Sure.” I nodded in agreement. “Would you have been prepared for her to physically attack you?”
“Well, no. But the car was between us. I would have had time to evade her,” Jillian replied in a sulky manner.
“But what if it wasn’t?”
She chewed her lip. “Yeah, you’re right. I should get some moves under my belt. See you.” The door slammed shut.
“Tomorrow. Six. Sharp.” I called through the open window.
She gave an absent-minded wave and climbed into her car.
I waited until she was gone, despising myself for the misgivings about Sadira that were still hanging about in my head, tapping my shoulder like an invisible ghost.
Chapter Fourteen
The X-Files theme song drew me out of the report on the new teen vaping statistics I’d been reading. The clock read half past nine and my living room had grown dark, lit only by my computer screen and my now glowing phone. The eerie song reverberated through the gloom. Months ago, I’d sworn to change it, but sentiment kept me from acting. I switched on a light, took a deep breath, and answered the call.
“Hello, Mike,” I said neutrally.
“K.C., I got your message.” His voice sounded wary but positive.
So much had happened today. It seemed a long time ago that I’d left that stammered message for Mike. “Right. So . . . how’s it going?”
“Fine. It’s fine. . . .” he trailed off, as unsure as I.
“I should tell—”
“Listen, I’m really—” We both spoke at once and then stopped.
“You go first,” he said.
“No, I think I’ll cede the floor to you.”
Mike sighed, and I envisioned him running a hand through his dark hair the way he did sometimes. “I’m sorry. There’s not much more I can say. I wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I wanted to help.”
“Our relationship put you in a difficult situation.”
“Yes.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said plainly. “And I need to apologize. I should have called you earlier.”
“Why didn’t you?”
It was my turn to sigh and stare up at the ceiling.
“K.C., are you in trouble?” His tone was curious with concern but without the censure I’d come to expect.
“No, I’m not in trouble. However, my sister has a friend who is in trouble, and I offered to—well, maybe a better way to put it—Jilly forced me into helping.”
“How can you be forced into helping?”
“My sister is better than a Jewish grandmother at delivering a guilt trip.”
He laughed. “What’s the story? I’m all ears.”
“How much time have you got?”
“Until six a.m. tomorrow.”
I launched into a truncated version of Sadira’s story, leaving out the courier services we’d provided and my sister’s snoop-fest through Sadira’s house. Although, I did tell him about the hidden safe she’d stumbled across. Mike, like Rick, felt the clue insignificant, and after hearing more about Tazim, dismissed the hidden safe all together.
“Tons of people have safes in their homes.”
“Hidden behind a shoe rack?”
“You wouldn’t believe the places we’ve found contraband and hidden safes.”
I hear a distinct rustling and crunching, a sound I recalled from our college days. “Wait a minute, I know that sound. Are you eating those nasty pork rinds?”
He paused mid-crunch. “Um.”
I rolled my eyes. “For the life of me I can’t understand how you can eat those things. Your arteries are clogging as we speak.”
“Yes, I’m aware of your feelings about the pork rinds. I remember being in your dorm room one night watching a football game, having my snacks unceremoniously snatched from my hands and a tirade of their nutrition-less value rain down upon my head. Then I believe you flushed them down the toilet.”
I blushed at his recall of the memory. “I think that’s an exaggeration of what happened.”
“It’s exactly what happened.”
“Well . . . I . . . thought you’d taken my lecture to heart and stopped eating them.”
“Only in your presence.”
“Oh.”
“And now only on rare occasions. You’re right, they are not good for anyone.”
“Ha!” I said triumphantly.
He didn’t respond, but I could hear, clear as if he was sitting next to me, the snapping crunch of those fried rinds, and it suddenly occurred to me that there might be a reason he chose to indulge today. “How has your week gone?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Not much I can talk about.”
“Buuutt . . . you’re okay?”
“I’m okay. There’s nothing wrong.”
My stomach grumbled. Mike’s late-night snacking set off my own appetite. Dinner had consisted of a cup of yogurt and a pickle a few hours ago. I headed to the pantry to see what I could dig up. “Well, then, where were we? Oh, right, the safes. Tell me some of the nuttiest places you’ve found them.”
“In the dishwasher. He’d pulled out all racks and stuck a big one in there.”
I pushed some canned goods out of the way and rummaged in the back, pulling out a box of cereal. “What was in the safe?”
“Ten keys of heroin, a hundred thousand in cash, and some jewelry.”
The bowl I’d just laid hands on landed with a clank on the counter. “Holy crap. Is this something you should be telling me?”
“The case is closed.”
“In comparison, behind a shoe rack seems relatively tame.”
“Actually, many people hide safes in their closets. Sounds like your friend is a bit fancy with the shoe rack, but to each his own,” he said with indifference.
I knew Mike had a safe for his gun in his bedside table, but our discussion suddenly made me wonder if there wasn’t another one. “Do you have a hidden safe?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” I froze with cereal poised above the bowl.
“That would be telling. I can’t give all my secrets away.”
“Is it like an FBI secret?”
“No. One day I’ll show you,” he hedged.
“Huh, one day? Like when I make it into the inner circle?”
He grunted. “I think you’re already in my ‘inner circle.’ If you really want to know, I’ll show it to you when I get back.”
Okay, I’ll admit, that made my heart do a little pitty-pat. Reanimated, I tilted the box and the cereal rattled into the bowl. “Now you’re making me think I should get a hidden safe.”
“Do you have a safety deposit box?”
“Yes, I got it years ago.”
“Then you probably don’t need a hidden safe.”
“Why? My stuff isn’t important enough for a hidden safe?” I teased, pouring the milk.
“I didn’t say that. A home safe is good for things you want to be able to access easily. For you, something like any high end or sentimental jewelry would be a good reason to get a safe.”
“Hm.” I spooned in a mouthful of the fruity cereal as I contemplated. “I do have my grandmother’s sapphire ring sitting in that safety deposit box. I don’t wear it because it never occurs to me to go fetch it before fancy affairs, and I don’t want it hanging around the apartment.”
“Have you had it assessed?”
“Yeah. I
t’s worth about twenty-eight grand.”
He whistled.
“Yeah, Gramps must have had a good day at the stock market. It is a pretty piece and fits perfectly on my ring finger. I really should make an effort to take it out more often.” I slurped up another mouthful.
“Tell you what, when I return, I can help you find a small safe to install, and you’ll have a place to put Grandma’s rings and pearls and whatnot. Sound good? And what are you eating?”
I swallowed, wiping milk from my chin. “Sounds good. Cereal. Your pork rind binge made me hungry. I only had some yogurt and a pickle for dinner.”
“Don’t tell me you’re eating that sugary, fruity cereal with zero nutritional value? The box you keep hidden in the back of the pantry?”
Caught. “Uh.”
“We all have our vices.” I could visualize the triumphant grin on his face as he delivered the jab.
“Hoisted with my own petard,” I conceded good naturedly. “Can we hide it behind my shoe rack?”
“Hide what? The cereal?”
“No, silly. Can I hide the new safe?”
“Darling, you can hide it wherever your heart desires.”
I grinned.
We both chewed our fatty, sugary foods for a moment before Mike asked, “What’s on the calendar for tomorrow?”
“Normal work stuff. No fundraisers or anything. I don’t think I have any meetings on the Hill. So probably a quiet day, overall. You?”
“Last day of training, then dinner out.”
We hung up a few minutes later. That little cloud of discontent that I’d been dragging around since my fight with Mike disappeared, tilting my world back on its axis. I finished the cereal and, still hungry, rummaged in my fridge for something nutritious, and barring nutrition, I searched for something edible that hadn’t surpassed its expiration date.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday, a day a restaurant chain was established to celebrate, a day working slobs like me rejoiced in achieving by either dancing or, depending upon the week, crawling across that finish line at five o’clock. Today, I planned to meander across it in a stately manner; however, it was only morning, still hours away from the goal. I arrived at work on time with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stupid grin plastered across my face. I’d slept well, awoken refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Moreover, it was casual Friday, and since this was the first time in months when I didn’t have a meeting outside the office, I was able to participate. I’d chosen a pair of dark skinny jeans, ballet flats, and a flowy blouse.