Love on the Edge: Nine Shades of Romantic Suspense, page 60
David nodded. “Thought Hayes was too whacked out to be a real pro. Only as good as your hold on him.”
Bates shrugged. “A fanatic kills just as well as a capitalist and sometimes he’ll take more risks. He was useful, but not anymore. Let’s end it quickly.”
“Right.” David turned to go, then stopped. “What about the romance writer? I’ve got Dent on call, if she’s spotted.”
Bates hesitated. Dent was a messy killer, couldn’t spell finesse, let alone define it. Her threat was to Hastings, not him. His wife did like her books, but how would it look if he backed off a contract? “Make it official. The hit is his. And put some pressure on our snitch at the DPD. I want to know what the cops know before they know it.”
David nodded. “Just wish we knew what the Feds know. McBride’s being kept so far out of the Marshal’s loop he’s no help. We’re flying blind there.”
Bates shrugged. “He’ll have to be taken care of, too, when the dust settles.”
“When the dust settles he might be useful again,” David pointed out.
Bates shook his head. “He’s tainted. I wouldn’t trust him, why should they?” He looked hard at David. “We gotta get clean here, David, or Orsini takes us both out. We stay together or we die together. Clear?”
David nodded, comprehension of the implied threat in his placid gaze. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it all.”
He eased out of the room, leaving Bates convinced he had better watch his back. This was just the kind of situation he had used to rise another notch in the organization.
Chapter Eleven
The sign outside the bookstore was big enough to catch the eyes and attention of even the most preoccupied person, but it wasn’t size that stopped Dani. It was what the sign proclaimed so enthusiastically.
BOOK SIGNING TODAY! Romance novelist Kelly Kerwin signs her newest release Love and Lust.
Kelly? How—the flyer about the writers conference she saw when she was assessing Matt Kirby’s tush outside Boomer’s office. Dani smiled. She’d only had to go through blood, fire, and excessive altitude to make wild child Kelly look like a better prospect than an ex-spook with a crush.
Her plot was taking a macabre turn, she decided, with a distant fatalism that could be the bi-product of her pissed off vantage point. Inside the sense of the fictional was further enhanced by Kelly, who was seated at a table stacked with books, positively awash in organza ruffles and lace, with a Scarlet O’Hara floppy-brimmed hat on her golden locks, languidly signing her books with a feather pen.
It seemed Dani wasn’t the only one loaded for bear this fine summer day. She lifted a book from a stack and set it down in front of “Scarlet.”
“You want this personalized or generic, sugar?” Kelly’s voice was weighted with a sultry, Southern drawl.
“Oh, Miss Kerwin, most definitely personalized,” Dani gushed, “to Louise?”
Kelly stiffened, lifting her flawlessly sculpted chin up until she could see out from under the floppy brim. With no trace of Southern and a boat load of skeptical, she said, “Louise?”
“Yeah. Wanna see my ID?” Dani sat on the edge of the table, the action hiking the already dangerous hem line higher on her silk-covered thighs. She leaned close enough to confide, “I made it myself.”
Kelly gave two men who’d stopped to stare at Dani’s legs a severe look that sent them on their way, before asking, “What you doing here? I thought you were in solitary confinement or something?”
“I was. I’m out now. You have a break any time soon? I need to talk to you.”
“If I didn’t deserve a break soon, I’d take one anyway.” Her limpid blue gaze narrowed in scrutiny of Dani, what she could see of her hair under the brim of the smart hat, her red dress. All she said was, “Why don’t you plant it here and sign with me for a bit?”
“Louise isn’t an author.”
“Oh. Right. Well, plant it anyway.” Kelly patted the chair next to her. Dani took it with a wriggle that stopped another male customer in his tracks. She ignored him and waited for Kelly to sign a book, then asked, “What’s with the Scarlet ensemble?”
Kelly shrugged elegantly. “I had an interview before this signing. Some idiot at the local paper who was obviously expecting Scarlet. So I gave her to him. But good.” She smiled wickedly, then did a quick switch to charming when a woman approached. When they were alone again, she said, “Red is your color, but the blonde locks are definitely plagiarism. Do tell, who pissed you off?”
Dani laughed, leaning back and crossing her legs at the ankle. “Just about everyone. How could you tell?”
“Because that dress could fry men’s brains and turn their parts to stone. Not exactly your normal style.”
Dani smoothed the skirt a millimeter closer to her knees. “Maybe I’m tired of my normal style.”
“Well, well. Better tell Miss Scarlet all about it so I can exploit it shamelessly. I’d hate to see a long overdue bad mood go to waste.”
Dani’s eyes narrowed, her mouth curving in a dangerous smile. “Don’t worry. It won’t.”
Later, in a quiet little bistro deep in the mall, Dani told Kelly all about it. Kelly being Kelly, took notes and offered a stringent critique. Still feeling removed from the crap and yet strangely normal in a very surreal but comforting way, Dani studied her friend over the top of her drink cup. “I thought you were holed up finishing your book?”
“That was last month. This month I’m here for the conference.”
“This is what, Tuesday?” It was getting harder to keep track. “I thought the convention didn’t start until Thursday?”
“It doesn’t. But our publicist thought it would be a hoot if I did some signings and an interview or two.”
“Ooh.” Dani grimaced wryly. “I guess there are some benefits to being hunted like a dog.”
“Yeah, no one’s gonna be asking you at seven a.m. tomorrow morning how you research the sex scenes in your book.” Kelly sighed and fluttered her false lashes wistfully. “So where you staying? Or aren’t I supposed to ask?”
“I was hoping I could stay with you. I’ll clear out in the morning. And before you say yes, be aware you’ll have my Fed on your butt if they figure out you’re helping me.”
“Really? Your own Fed. Cool.” Kelly leaned back in her chair, her pose sultry. “Is he cute?”
Cute? Matt was too easily conjured up and replayed feature by feature, right down to the jeans and boots. “Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “Dang annoying, completely opinionated, definitely cute.”
“So why you running from him? You know better than to mess with the basic plot.”
Dani gave her a Look. “This isn’t a romance.”
“Everything is a romance. Don’t you read our PR?”
“All I been reading lately are bumper stickers,” Dani shot back. “According to them, life’s a bitch.”
Kelly grinned. “And here I thought I was the bitch.”
Dani grinned back. “No comment. I’m not obliged to incriminate myself.”
“Smart girl. So, now that you’re out and about, you gonna do the conference? Lots of our friends around. Not to mention the tax benefits.”
“Have you forgotten my Fed isn’t the only one after me?”
“No, but you’ve already wailed on him. If he’s got half a brain, he won’t be back.”
“Richard can’t be too happy he missed again,” Dani agreed. It was the main reason she felt comfortable seeking temporary asylum with Kelly. It would take them some time to regroup. What would he do with that time? That was the question. Would he try to find someone else? Could he? How many hit men could he know?
Kelly straightened, “You need a place to stay with someone who isn’t known to know you.” Kelly’s mind tended to run along plot lines, too.
“Well, that would be nice, but the problem is, people who don’t know me, don’t know me enough to give me aid and shelter.”
“Yeah, but if they know me—”
Dani didn’t take advantage of that big opening. It was too easy. No challenge. Kelly gave her a suspicious look that Dani met with one of innocence. It left her friend nowhere to go but on with her thought. “My ex-mother-in-law is from here. We’re still friends because she thinks her son is a jerk, too. And, even better, she has this little guest house on her property.”
“Really?” It would have a telephone. Guest houses did. Kelly would have a laptop—she loved expensive toys—so Dani could make contact with Spook without seriously depleting her money supply. And Matt the Marshal hunter? Oh yeah. She had some things to say to him, too.
“Yeah, and Dobermans,” Kelly said, still following her own line of thought.
“Really?” Dobermans would discourage any killers Richard hired, wouldn’t they? “My motherin-law was a Doberman.”
Kelly grinned. “No kidding. I’ll call her. Mine, not yours. If no one’s visiting, I’ll bet we could move in tonight.” She shoved her chair back. “Let’s get out of here. Suddenly I’m suffering from Southern Belle overdose. I gotta get changed before I’m forced to slay someone with my eyes.” She slid her arm through Dani’s. “Dang, I’m glad you showed up. Was wishing I had someone to go out with me tonight.”
“Out?” Dani asked, not in protest, but because it was their routine.
“That’s right. Out. Time you kicked up your heels, girl. Did the wild child thing.”
“Every time we do the wild child thing—”
“—we have a great time.”
Too true. Dani smiled. “I can’t afford to get arrested this time, Kel.”
“Trust me.” Kelly crossed her heart. “There is absolutely nothing that can go wrong in my tender care.”
Famous last words, Dani thought in a detached way. They usually are uttered just prior to brown stuff hitting the fan. Only the fan had already received a boat load of the stuff. How much more could there be out there? “I need to buy a toothbrush.”
Kelly looked mock serious. “Won’t get any argument from me on that one. I’m committed to good oral hygiene.”
Dani grinned. “So how is your dentist?”
Kelly grinned. “Showing no signs of decay.”
Dani’s grin expanded into a laugh. It felt good. It was a scientific fact. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. I think you’re a treasure.”
“I know. And I sell more books than you, too.”
“Bitch.”
Kelly laughed and looked at the parking lot. “Now where did I park my stupid rental car? Last time I let them give me a white one.”
*
State Attorney General Dennis Sheridan held back a sigh as he watched Richard Hasting’s lawyer wear an agitated groove in the carpet in front of his desk with his expensive leather shoes. Sweat glittered like diamonds in the places where his graying hair had given up trying to cover his large, round head. Greedy, hunted eyes peered out of indention’s in his bread dough face. Beneath a pug nose, his nauseatingly pink cupid’s bow mouth twitched with an uncontrollable tick.
Agitation wasn’t a good look on Digby Prescott. Not that Sheridan had seen an emotion that was good on him in the six months they had been on opposite sides of the case of State of Colorado vs. Richard Robert Hastings.
The saint-turned-accused-killer had been an interesting problem. If Dani Gwynne hadn’t seen Hastings kill the Jane Doe, his ties to organized crime would have stayed hidden, lost in the glare of his “good works” foundation. Now that the tangled mob money-laundering web was beginning to unravel for Hastings—and become a political bonanza for Sheridan, he could lean back in his chair and enjoy the sight of Prescott caught in the cleft stick of his own greed.
Prescott would have taken on the Hastings case at the request of Paul Orsini, the man who controlled organized crime activities from the West Coast to the Mississippi, a man who had more money than places to launder it. At the time it had probably seemed like a simple matter. Stall the case until the sole witness of the crime is dead and the Feds admit they couldn’t find anything in Richard’s Hastings closet.
Except the witness hadn’t died. And the mob’s man in the FBI hadn’t been near as good at hiding as Orsini and was getting ready to cut a deal. The whole package was coming apart and Prescott’s short legs were straddling the crack. No wonder he was twitching like he had St. Vitas Dance.
Orsini would take him out for what he was saying, for being here when Richard Hastings began his roll. Though Sheridan had a feeling that Hastings hadn’t told his attorney until they were safely inside. Had to know the only place his legal advisor would take him was to a quiet meeting and an ending in a shallow grave somewhere. Prescott was going to have to do some fancy footwork or request protection, too. He wasn’t light enough on his feet for plain footwork, let alone the fancy kind.
This weekend, when Sheridan thought he had lost his witness and his case, had been bad. The worst in his career. It wasn’t often he liked a witness, but it would be hard not to like Dani, harder still not to want her, particularly after he’d read one of her books. Who would have thought that much passion lurked beneath her quiet exterior? He had felt as much regret as he was capable of when he got the news she was dead.
Amazing what a few days could do for his prospects. Way things were going, it wouldn’t matter to the case if Dani didn’t make it. Sheridan’s smile widened as he studied his perfect manicure. He was in the catbird seat and he intended to enjoy it.
Prescott finally stopped talking and looked at him. “Well?”
Time to toy with the mouse. Wouldn’t do to appear hungry. “Your guy’s up to his armpits in it. Why would I want to pull him out?”
“Because he can give you Vernon Bates.” Saying the words out loud moved Prescott’s twitch another notch up the Richter scale. “And Bates can give you Orsini.”
“I thought Richard Hastings didn’t know Bates?”
Prescott’s little mouth worked for a minute before he said with controlled rage, “We gonna talk deal or not? You know you got nothing without your witness—”
Sheridan straightened. It was almost too easy. “Who told you I don’t have my witness?”
Prescott’s tiny gaze narrowed to nearly invisible. “I could go to the judge and force you to produce her.”
While Dani was living, Sheridan had no compunction about bluffing. Prescott was holding the worse hand. He shrugged. “Do it. Dani’s more eager than ever to nail your client. The sooner the better.” He smiled reflectively. “I can’t wait to see her in action. She’s a dream witness for a prosecutor. She has that—extra something that plays well with a jury. Then there’s the pathos of her dead baby. The Virgin Mary wouldn’t be as sympathetic.”
Prescott stared at him, indecision written large across his florid face. “You…she…I don’t believe you. She’s dead. We both know she’s dead.”
Sheridan adopted mock surprise. “Who told you she was dead?”
Prescott saw the danger too late. “Client-attorney communications are privileged—”
“—and apparently incomplete. I wonder why Bates didn’t tell you she’s very much alive? That his expensive killer missed his mark again?”
Prescott’s mouth opened, then closed. He dropped in a chair, his shoulders rounding in defeat.
“You’re right,” Sheridan stood up. “It probably isn’t a good idea to say anything else. You’ve already incriminated yourself enough for one day.”
He loved it when a plan came together.
*
“Tell me what you got, Riggs.” Matt paced restlessly away from the speaker telephone on his desk, whirled around and headed back.
“Not much. She was here at the mall, Saks Fifth Avenue again. Bought a red dress.”
“Red? That’s a red dress?” What? Trying to figure out what was going on in her head was like trying to work his way out of a maze in a blizzard.
“Affirmative. Clerk showed it to me. All I can say is, wow. She’s got someone in her sights.”
Despite clamping down on his thoughts, Matt felt a pang at missing the dress. With her legs—he frowned. Who was she targeting? He almost looked behind him. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. She was pissed at him. Not all the other people, good, bad and ugly, she should be pissed at. Him. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t caused the mess at the boarding house. She had. She had no right to put him in her sights. “Then it ought to be easy to track her.”
“You’d think. She doesn’t exactly look like the picture I’m showing, but I still have a few places left to check. Oh, and just to stay with the bad-news, no-good-news theme, I talked to that guy, Adams, s at the DPD?”
“Yeah?”
“His snitch claims Bates has put Dent on Gwynne and Copeland on Hayes.”
Matt wheeled around. He’d be perfectly happy to have Copeland take out Hayes, but— “Dent? He’s almost as bad as Hayes.” He saw Sheridan approaching. “Let me get back to you, Riggs. Sheridan’s here.” Matt broke the connection and watched Sheridan approach. His face was impassive, his pace relaxed, but Matt could tell he was both satisfied and excited about something. Matt’s senses went to full blown wary when Sheridan sat down without asking for news about Dani, a small smile flickering the edges of his narrow mouth.
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know the case is breaking wide open, before I talk to Anderson.”
Matt’s gaze narrowed. Only one reason Sheridan would need to talk to Anderson. He needed a witness protected.
“FBI’s finally starting to unravel the mystery of Richard Hastings,” Sheridan went on, oblivious to Matt’s knife narrow gaze pointed at him. “Seems Bates had a friend in the ranks muddying the waters for him or we would have had Hastings cold months ago.”
“What’s the scam?”
“Money laundering through his charitable foundation. They tell me it would have been a slick deal if Hastings hadn’t screwed up the works by toasting our Jane Doe. Which is why Bates was so willing to provide a hitter to clean up his mess. Course now Hastings is crying dupe and seriously worried about his own worthless hide.”
“Oh?”
Bates shrugged. “A fanatic kills just as well as a capitalist and sometimes he’ll take more risks. He was useful, but not anymore. Let’s end it quickly.”
“Right.” David turned to go, then stopped. “What about the romance writer? I’ve got Dent on call, if she’s spotted.”
Bates hesitated. Dent was a messy killer, couldn’t spell finesse, let alone define it. Her threat was to Hastings, not him. His wife did like her books, but how would it look if he backed off a contract? “Make it official. The hit is his. And put some pressure on our snitch at the DPD. I want to know what the cops know before they know it.”
David nodded. “Just wish we knew what the Feds know. McBride’s being kept so far out of the Marshal’s loop he’s no help. We’re flying blind there.”
Bates shrugged. “He’ll have to be taken care of, too, when the dust settles.”
“When the dust settles he might be useful again,” David pointed out.
Bates shook his head. “He’s tainted. I wouldn’t trust him, why should they?” He looked hard at David. “We gotta get clean here, David, or Orsini takes us both out. We stay together or we die together. Clear?”
David nodded, comprehension of the implied threat in his placid gaze. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it all.”
He eased out of the room, leaving Bates convinced he had better watch his back. This was just the kind of situation he had used to rise another notch in the organization.
Chapter Eleven
The sign outside the bookstore was big enough to catch the eyes and attention of even the most preoccupied person, but it wasn’t size that stopped Dani. It was what the sign proclaimed so enthusiastically.
BOOK SIGNING TODAY! Romance novelist Kelly Kerwin signs her newest release Love and Lust.
Kelly? How—the flyer about the writers conference she saw when she was assessing Matt Kirby’s tush outside Boomer’s office. Dani smiled. She’d only had to go through blood, fire, and excessive altitude to make wild child Kelly look like a better prospect than an ex-spook with a crush.
Her plot was taking a macabre turn, she decided, with a distant fatalism that could be the bi-product of her pissed off vantage point. Inside the sense of the fictional was further enhanced by Kelly, who was seated at a table stacked with books, positively awash in organza ruffles and lace, with a Scarlet O’Hara floppy-brimmed hat on her golden locks, languidly signing her books with a feather pen.
It seemed Dani wasn’t the only one loaded for bear this fine summer day. She lifted a book from a stack and set it down in front of “Scarlet.”
“You want this personalized or generic, sugar?” Kelly’s voice was weighted with a sultry, Southern drawl.
“Oh, Miss Kerwin, most definitely personalized,” Dani gushed, “to Louise?”
Kelly stiffened, lifting her flawlessly sculpted chin up until she could see out from under the floppy brim. With no trace of Southern and a boat load of skeptical, she said, “Louise?”
“Yeah. Wanna see my ID?” Dani sat on the edge of the table, the action hiking the already dangerous hem line higher on her silk-covered thighs. She leaned close enough to confide, “I made it myself.”
Kelly gave two men who’d stopped to stare at Dani’s legs a severe look that sent them on their way, before asking, “What you doing here? I thought you were in solitary confinement or something?”
“I was. I’m out now. You have a break any time soon? I need to talk to you.”
“If I didn’t deserve a break soon, I’d take one anyway.” Her limpid blue gaze narrowed in scrutiny of Dani, what she could see of her hair under the brim of the smart hat, her red dress. All she said was, “Why don’t you plant it here and sign with me for a bit?”
“Louise isn’t an author.”
“Oh. Right. Well, plant it anyway.” Kelly patted the chair next to her. Dani took it with a wriggle that stopped another male customer in his tracks. She ignored him and waited for Kelly to sign a book, then asked, “What’s with the Scarlet ensemble?”
Kelly shrugged elegantly. “I had an interview before this signing. Some idiot at the local paper who was obviously expecting Scarlet. So I gave her to him. But good.” She smiled wickedly, then did a quick switch to charming when a woman approached. When they were alone again, she said, “Red is your color, but the blonde locks are definitely plagiarism. Do tell, who pissed you off?”
Dani laughed, leaning back and crossing her legs at the ankle. “Just about everyone. How could you tell?”
“Because that dress could fry men’s brains and turn their parts to stone. Not exactly your normal style.”
Dani smoothed the skirt a millimeter closer to her knees. “Maybe I’m tired of my normal style.”
“Well, well. Better tell Miss Scarlet all about it so I can exploit it shamelessly. I’d hate to see a long overdue bad mood go to waste.”
Dani’s eyes narrowed, her mouth curving in a dangerous smile. “Don’t worry. It won’t.”
Later, in a quiet little bistro deep in the mall, Dani told Kelly all about it. Kelly being Kelly, took notes and offered a stringent critique. Still feeling removed from the crap and yet strangely normal in a very surreal but comforting way, Dani studied her friend over the top of her drink cup. “I thought you were holed up finishing your book?”
“That was last month. This month I’m here for the conference.”
“This is what, Tuesday?” It was getting harder to keep track. “I thought the convention didn’t start until Thursday?”
“It doesn’t. But our publicist thought it would be a hoot if I did some signings and an interview or two.”
“Ooh.” Dani grimaced wryly. “I guess there are some benefits to being hunted like a dog.”
“Yeah, no one’s gonna be asking you at seven a.m. tomorrow morning how you research the sex scenes in your book.” Kelly sighed and fluttered her false lashes wistfully. “So where you staying? Or aren’t I supposed to ask?”
“I was hoping I could stay with you. I’ll clear out in the morning. And before you say yes, be aware you’ll have my Fed on your butt if they figure out you’re helping me.”
“Really? Your own Fed. Cool.” Kelly leaned back in her chair, her pose sultry. “Is he cute?”
Cute? Matt was too easily conjured up and replayed feature by feature, right down to the jeans and boots. “Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “Dang annoying, completely opinionated, definitely cute.”
“So why you running from him? You know better than to mess with the basic plot.”
Dani gave her a Look. “This isn’t a romance.”
“Everything is a romance. Don’t you read our PR?”
“All I been reading lately are bumper stickers,” Dani shot back. “According to them, life’s a bitch.”
Kelly grinned. “And here I thought I was the bitch.”
Dani grinned back. “No comment. I’m not obliged to incriminate myself.”
“Smart girl. So, now that you’re out and about, you gonna do the conference? Lots of our friends around. Not to mention the tax benefits.”
“Have you forgotten my Fed isn’t the only one after me?”
“No, but you’ve already wailed on him. If he’s got half a brain, he won’t be back.”
“Richard can’t be too happy he missed again,” Dani agreed. It was the main reason she felt comfortable seeking temporary asylum with Kelly. It would take them some time to regroup. What would he do with that time? That was the question. Would he try to find someone else? Could he? How many hit men could he know?
Kelly straightened, “You need a place to stay with someone who isn’t known to know you.” Kelly’s mind tended to run along plot lines, too.
“Well, that would be nice, but the problem is, people who don’t know me, don’t know me enough to give me aid and shelter.”
“Yeah, but if they know me—”
Dani didn’t take advantage of that big opening. It was too easy. No challenge. Kelly gave her a suspicious look that Dani met with one of innocence. It left her friend nowhere to go but on with her thought. “My ex-mother-in-law is from here. We’re still friends because she thinks her son is a jerk, too. And, even better, she has this little guest house on her property.”
“Really?” It would have a telephone. Guest houses did. Kelly would have a laptop—she loved expensive toys—so Dani could make contact with Spook without seriously depleting her money supply. And Matt the Marshal hunter? Oh yeah. She had some things to say to him, too.
“Yeah, and Dobermans,” Kelly said, still following her own line of thought.
“Really?” Dobermans would discourage any killers Richard hired, wouldn’t they? “My motherin-law was a Doberman.”
Kelly grinned. “No kidding. I’ll call her. Mine, not yours. If no one’s visiting, I’ll bet we could move in tonight.” She shoved her chair back. “Let’s get out of here. Suddenly I’m suffering from Southern Belle overdose. I gotta get changed before I’m forced to slay someone with my eyes.” She slid her arm through Dani’s. “Dang, I’m glad you showed up. Was wishing I had someone to go out with me tonight.”
“Out?” Dani asked, not in protest, but because it was their routine.
“That’s right. Out. Time you kicked up your heels, girl. Did the wild child thing.”
“Every time we do the wild child thing—”
“—we have a great time.”
Too true. Dani smiled. “I can’t afford to get arrested this time, Kel.”
“Trust me.” Kelly crossed her heart. “There is absolutely nothing that can go wrong in my tender care.”
Famous last words, Dani thought in a detached way. They usually are uttered just prior to brown stuff hitting the fan. Only the fan had already received a boat load of the stuff. How much more could there be out there? “I need to buy a toothbrush.”
Kelly looked mock serious. “Won’t get any argument from me on that one. I’m committed to good oral hygiene.”
Dani grinned. “So how is your dentist?”
Kelly grinned. “Showing no signs of decay.”
Dani’s grin expanded into a laugh. It felt good. It was a scientific fact. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. I think you’re a treasure.”
“I know. And I sell more books than you, too.”
“Bitch.”
Kelly laughed and looked at the parking lot. “Now where did I park my stupid rental car? Last time I let them give me a white one.”
*
State Attorney General Dennis Sheridan held back a sigh as he watched Richard Hasting’s lawyer wear an agitated groove in the carpet in front of his desk with his expensive leather shoes. Sweat glittered like diamonds in the places where his graying hair had given up trying to cover his large, round head. Greedy, hunted eyes peered out of indention’s in his bread dough face. Beneath a pug nose, his nauseatingly pink cupid’s bow mouth twitched with an uncontrollable tick.
Agitation wasn’t a good look on Digby Prescott. Not that Sheridan had seen an emotion that was good on him in the six months they had been on opposite sides of the case of State of Colorado vs. Richard Robert Hastings.
The saint-turned-accused-killer had been an interesting problem. If Dani Gwynne hadn’t seen Hastings kill the Jane Doe, his ties to organized crime would have stayed hidden, lost in the glare of his “good works” foundation. Now that the tangled mob money-laundering web was beginning to unravel for Hastings—and become a political bonanza for Sheridan, he could lean back in his chair and enjoy the sight of Prescott caught in the cleft stick of his own greed.
Prescott would have taken on the Hastings case at the request of Paul Orsini, the man who controlled organized crime activities from the West Coast to the Mississippi, a man who had more money than places to launder it. At the time it had probably seemed like a simple matter. Stall the case until the sole witness of the crime is dead and the Feds admit they couldn’t find anything in Richard’s Hastings closet.
Except the witness hadn’t died. And the mob’s man in the FBI hadn’t been near as good at hiding as Orsini and was getting ready to cut a deal. The whole package was coming apart and Prescott’s short legs were straddling the crack. No wonder he was twitching like he had St. Vitas Dance.
Orsini would take him out for what he was saying, for being here when Richard Hastings began his roll. Though Sheridan had a feeling that Hastings hadn’t told his attorney until they were safely inside. Had to know the only place his legal advisor would take him was to a quiet meeting and an ending in a shallow grave somewhere. Prescott was going to have to do some fancy footwork or request protection, too. He wasn’t light enough on his feet for plain footwork, let alone the fancy kind.
This weekend, when Sheridan thought he had lost his witness and his case, had been bad. The worst in his career. It wasn’t often he liked a witness, but it would be hard not to like Dani, harder still not to want her, particularly after he’d read one of her books. Who would have thought that much passion lurked beneath her quiet exterior? He had felt as much regret as he was capable of when he got the news she was dead.
Amazing what a few days could do for his prospects. Way things were going, it wouldn’t matter to the case if Dani didn’t make it. Sheridan’s smile widened as he studied his perfect manicure. He was in the catbird seat and he intended to enjoy it.
Prescott finally stopped talking and looked at him. “Well?”
Time to toy with the mouse. Wouldn’t do to appear hungry. “Your guy’s up to his armpits in it. Why would I want to pull him out?”
“Because he can give you Vernon Bates.” Saying the words out loud moved Prescott’s twitch another notch up the Richter scale. “And Bates can give you Orsini.”
“I thought Richard Hastings didn’t know Bates?”
Prescott’s little mouth worked for a minute before he said with controlled rage, “We gonna talk deal or not? You know you got nothing without your witness—”
Sheridan straightened. It was almost too easy. “Who told you I don’t have my witness?”
Prescott’s tiny gaze narrowed to nearly invisible. “I could go to the judge and force you to produce her.”
While Dani was living, Sheridan had no compunction about bluffing. Prescott was holding the worse hand. He shrugged. “Do it. Dani’s more eager than ever to nail your client. The sooner the better.” He smiled reflectively. “I can’t wait to see her in action. She’s a dream witness for a prosecutor. She has that—extra something that plays well with a jury. Then there’s the pathos of her dead baby. The Virgin Mary wouldn’t be as sympathetic.”
Prescott stared at him, indecision written large across his florid face. “You…she…I don’t believe you. She’s dead. We both know she’s dead.”
Sheridan adopted mock surprise. “Who told you she was dead?”
Prescott saw the danger too late. “Client-attorney communications are privileged—”
“—and apparently incomplete. I wonder why Bates didn’t tell you she’s very much alive? That his expensive killer missed his mark again?”
Prescott’s mouth opened, then closed. He dropped in a chair, his shoulders rounding in defeat.
“You’re right,” Sheridan stood up. “It probably isn’t a good idea to say anything else. You’ve already incriminated yourself enough for one day.”
He loved it when a plan came together.
*
“Tell me what you got, Riggs.” Matt paced restlessly away from the speaker telephone on his desk, whirled around and headed back.
“Not much. She was here at the mall, Saks Fifth Avenue again. Bought a red dress.”
“Red? That’s a red dress?” What? Trying to figure out what was going on in her head was like trying to work his way out of a maze in a blizzard.
“Affirmative. Clerk showed it to me. All I can say is, wow. She’s got someone in her sights.”
Despite clamping down on his thoughts, Matt felt a pang at missing the dress. With her legs—he frowned. Who was she targeting? He almost looked behind him. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. She was pissed at him. Not all the other people, good, bad and ugly, she should be pissed at. Him. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t caused the mess at the boarding house. She had. She had no right to put him in her sights. “Then it ought to be easy to track her.”
“You’d think. She doesn’t exactly look like the picture I’m showing, but I still have a few places left to check. Oh, and just to stay with the bad-news, no-good-news theme, I talked to that guy, Adams, s at the DPD?”
“Yeah?”
“His snitch claims Bates has put Dent on Gwynne and Copeland on Hayes.”
Matt wheeled around. He’d be perfectly happy to have Copeland take out Hayes, but— “Dent? He’s almost as bad as Hayes.” He saw Sheridan approaching. “Let me get back to you, Riggs. Sheridan’s here.” Matt broke the connection and watched Sheridan approach. His face was impassive, his pace relaxed, but Matt could tell he was both satisfied and excited about something. Matt’s senses went to full blown wary when Sheridan sat down without asking for news about Dani, a small smile flickering the edges of his narrow mouth.
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know the case is breaking wide open, before I talk to Anderson.”
Matt’s gaze narrowed. Only one reason Sheridan would need to talk to Anderson. He needed a witness protected.
“FBI’s finally starting to unravel the mystery of Richard Hastings,” Sheridan went on, oblivious to Matt’s knife narrow gaze pointed at him. “Seems Bates had a friend in the ranks muddying the waters for him or we would have had Hastings cold months ago.”
“What’s the scam?”
“Money laundering through his charitable foundation. They tell me it would have been a slick deal if Hastings hadn’t screwed up the works by toasting our Jane Doe. Which is why Bates was so willing to provide a hitter to clean up his mess. Course now Hastings is crying dupe and seriously worried about his own worthless hide.”
“Oh?”
