by MJ O'Neill
“No. But I think the police have it wrong about the burglary.”
“Me too. No one would have left that crystal egg collection.”
Surprise flashed across his face. “You did some homework.”
“You’re right that it doesn’t seem to be what the police claim it is. We could try Madame Rosa, my personal astrologist. She might be able to point us in a direction.”
“That’s about the only thing we haven’t tried, Burns. Maybe Kat can give us a recommendation.”
“Funny.” He screwed the cap back on his water. “The cops think Gillian surprised the burglar in the middle of his break-in, causing him to panic and kill her and then run with whatever he had, leaving the rest.”
“I suppose it’s plausible.” I mentally turned over the crime scene photos of Gillian.
“I ran every pawnshop in St. Louis. The jewelry never turned up. If it were a run-of-the-mill break-in, someone would have fenced the stuff,” Neutron said.
The receptionist appeared in the door with a tray of coffee, water, and pastries. She had a snooty attitude, but her bold green gingham A-line skirt was to die for, and she had brought pastries. I could overlook snooty for pastries. They looked incredible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had pastry.
“Thank you, Amber.” She set the tray down and left.
I perused the pastry plate and took a muffin. “Maybe the robber’s smart and didn’t want to be connected to the murder.”
“Maybe,” Burns said. “But then they would have dumped the body somewhere and someone else would have picked it up. Burglars aren’t known for their self-control. I’d be surprised if the perp was sitting on it. Too much temptation.”
I contemplated while I let the sugary goodness of the pastry cream hit my system. “Maybe we do need to see Madame Rosa. It all seems to be so cosmically connected—Gillian, my dad, Dr. Jaffe, the Russians, the mob...”
“What do you mean ‘connected’?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure I meant to say that out loud, but here we were. I liked Burns, and I didn’t want to keep secrets from him. After all, he hadn’t freaked out about me knowing about Covana. Maybe he wouldn’t freak out about this either. “When I looked into Gillian’s case file at the morgue yesterday, I found this.” I took the photo out of my bag and passed it to him. I guessed I had decided to tell him.
“Okay.” He looked relieved and put the photo down. “Kat, just because the mob is connected to the prostitute killings doesn’t mean it’s connected to your dad. Reid only runs the speculation stories about your dad and the mob to sell papers. He doesn’t care whether they’re true at this point. In fact, if it were true, he’d be quiet until he had an exclusive with real proof.”
“You don’t understand. I haven’t bought in to some hype. See those codes on that piece of paper sticking out from the corner? My grand found a matching set of numbers in my dad’s papers.”
“What do you mean?” Burns asked.
“An exact match. Not something like them, but those specific codes.”
He picked up the photo again. From the look of surprise on his face, he didn’t know a connection existed until now. Good news. I could see him trying to calculate what this meant.
“Your dad is an insurance broker, right?”
“Yes. Wills, estates, insurance, some occasional estate planning. These codes don’t match anything I’ve ever seen attached to the business. Grand thinks they’re missile launch codes. You deal in defense. Do these look familiar?”
“No, why would you think that?”
“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give Grand’s crazy connections much thought. When you’ve run the social circuit as long as I have, you learn that there is no such thing as a coincidence in networking. Yesterday I learned Dr. Jaffe”—I pointed at Dr. Jaffe’s photo on the board—“is a gambling addict. Like a cash-business gambling thing.” I looked at Neutron and pointed up at the screen to Chentinko’s photo. “Last night at the benefit, I discovered that he’s the godson of Charles Montgomery.”
“Montgomery? Teradyne Defense Montgomery?”
“Yes. They were arguing and were not at all pleased that I had overheard them.”
“You’re sure?” Burns asked.
“I’ve been a socialite in high society since my sweet sixteen ball. I’m an expert at subtext.” I searched the board until I found the photo I was looking for. “You spent a lot of time investigating Gillian’s case. Do you know what those are?” I asked and pointed at the photo that matched the codes from Grand’s scrapbook.
“No. Neutron pored over them for weeks, and we always came up empty.”
Neutron pulled up the photo of numbers on the big screen and said, “They aren’t bank account numbers or credit cards or anything else we can match. From the way they’re put together, I thought they might be serial numbers for products, but it might take months of searching manufacturers’ databases to confirm.”
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence that these numbers are the same,” I said.
“Or maybe that’s why Chentinko is stalking you.”
I breathed out heavily. I hadn’t wanted to believe that my dad was actually connected to all of this. It had to be some mistake. But Chentinko was calling me. He’d sent me flowers. There was a connection, whether I wanted to believe it or not. “Yes. I had considered that. I just didn’t want to say it out loud yet.”
“There is an obvious solution to our problem.” He poured a cup of coffee but failed to look casual, eyeing me. “Go visit your father and ask him.”
“I can’t.”
“‘Can’t’ as in ‘don’t want to’ or ‘can’t’ as in ‘don’t have that option’?”
“So far, my mom and Grand’s requests to visit have all been denied, supposedly for his own safety. It’s driving them nuts.” I hated to admit it, but I had been trying to avoid the whole visiting thing, as if my not acknowledging his imprisonment made it less real. With such a good reason for needing to see him, I couldn’t keep sticking my head in the sand. “The lawyer’s filed an appeal for them, but that could take months. I can put in a request. Maybe his unassuming daughter will have more luck, but with this problem at the morgue, I can only imagine I’ll be denied too.”
“And you don’t find the denials a little suspicious?”
“I didn’t until this week. Now I find everything suspicious.” We were told that it wasn’t that unusual in mob cases for visitation to be denied, but still, they hadn’t seen him in months, and it felt like an eternity. He sent letters when he could and sounded okay. The lawyer said he was fine, but still. “Suspicious or not, without a way to see him, we can’t get any answers. My grand might know more than she’s said. She got this paper from somewhere. There might be more.”
“Okay, you work that angle. Neutron can take another run at these numbers, but I don’t know that we’ll make any progress. Our best bet is to focus on your friend here.” Burns pointed at Chentinko.
“Any more on your side?” I asked.
“We got a hit on the partial plate of the van that picked them up. A warehouse in Midtown. It’s new but not tied to the Russians.”
“Are you going there?”
“Yes.”
“I want to go.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no, just like that? If you really want to find out what happened to Gillian, that photo proves my family is connected to this somehow. Look, this isn’t about making sure I can hold on to my job anymore.” I pushed the half-full plate away and stood. “This is about someone needing to stand up for these girls. And this is about my family. I need to know what’s really going on. My whole life, I’ve thought I was this one thing. Now I learn I may be something different. An awful something. You want information? So do I. Like it or not, we need each other.”
Burns sat there for a long time, looking up at me. I could see the gears turning in his head, running tactical battle scenarios, each to its own conclusion, like a bad
simulation from the movie War Games. Eventually, I knew he’d ended at the same place I had. His face softened, and he smiled gently at me. We were stuck with each other.
“Fine. But I’m in command. When I give you an order, you follow it, unquestioned.”
“Great. Then it’s a date. I have more.” I told him all about Sam, Henry, and Jaffe.
“Wow, I thought it might be a myth that only nutjobs worked at the morgue,” Neutron said.
“If DC were here, he’d tell you it’s not good for your karma for you to label people. But I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised that we have so many angles to run down.” I took a last bite of pastry and stood up. “The only person we don’t have anything on yet is Meg.” I pointed at her picture on the board. “And thanks to you, I’m going to be taking care of that today.” I held out my hand.
Burns looked at it. “Thanks to me?”
“Yes, as our party sponsor, you’re covering Meg’s and my shopping trip. If I’m lucky, in addition to some lovely accessories that will make the morgue feel way less like a morgue, I might be able to get us another lead.”
Burns opened his wallet and handed me his credit card.
“Ah, the power,” I said with a maniacal tone.
“Ha. Just like a real girlfriend,” Neutron said.
It made me warm inside to hear that.
“You’ve never been shopping with DC, or you wouldn’t stereotype so blatantly,” I said, putting the card in my wallet.
MEG PICKED ME UP OUTSIDE of McPhee’s in her adorable little yellow Smart car.
I slid into the passenger’s seat. “Great car.”
“Thanks. I live too far for public transportation, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still try to be nice to Mother Earth.”
“I have a hybrid.” I clicked my seat belt into the buckle. “No. I guess that’s not right. More like the repo man has a hybrid.”
“Those are cool, too, but you’re better off with something that doesn’t have such a big footprint, anyway.”
I could still smell the fresh leather of the seats. The car wasn’t new. It took a lot of care to keep that new-car smell going once it wasn’t new anymore. “And you’re proof that environmentally friendly doesn’t have to be unfashionable. It’s so sporty.”
Meg had pulled her short bob into two tiny pigtail buns that looked like alien antenna. She wore a black silk button-down over a dark plaid mini with knee-high leather boots that had four-inch heels and ten buckles up the back. I wondered if those boots would be comfortable for a shopping trip. “Did you want to change before we go?”
“I already did.” She smiled at me and put the car into gear.
“I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be able to keep my foot out of my mouth.”
“All things considered, I think you’re doing pretty well. At least you don’t hate us anymore.” She looked across traffic and turned as she spoke in a steady, casual tone. I wondered how such a confident person could be so tentative around Henry.
“Hate you? My goodness, no. I’ve been way too self-focused to bother with hating anyone.”
Meg laughed, but I was serious. One reason that I hadn’t gotten to know any of my coworkers was that I’d been busy trying to pretend that any minute, my life would go back to the way they had been. With the appearance of Grand’s launch codes or the mob codes or whatever they were, I couldn’t keep my head in the sand any longer. “I don’t know what your family situation is like, but my father was our rock.” I looked out the window at the passing people as I thought about him. It had been so long since I’d heard him laugh. “I’ve been running around trying to manage my eccentric grandmother and stunned mother, neither of whom appreciates being managed. I suppose I figured if I kept busy enough, maybe I wouldn’t notice I wasn’t in Boston anymore.” I turned my attention back to her. “Rule number eighteen—Avoiding things takes a lot of energy.”
“My family is pretty tight too. I can’t imagine what I’d do in the same situation. I think you’re dealing with it the best you can. And I still give you props for the way you handled Marshall that first day. Henry still talks about it.”
“He does?”
My first day at the morgue, Marshall had decided to initiate me by having me fish through some poor old man’s intestine to recover his wife’s wedding ring. The widow had given several stories of how the ring ended up there, but none of them changed the fact that it had to be retrieved. I had barely seen blood before, let alone someone’s intestine. Things with my family were bad enough, though. I would not be intimidated by a reject from a grease farm.
Marshall looked stunned when I walked over and untied his cheap loafer, removed the shoestring, and fashioned a makeshift fishing pole from it, aided by one of DC’s hook earrings.
“Simply brilliant,” Meg said.
“That Dr. Jaffe can be pretty maddening, that’s for sure. Did you see how mad Sam was at him? It was like he stole his Harley or something.”
“I think everyone noticed. Do you have any idea what they’re fighting about?” I kept mum about what Big Max had witnessed. I wanted to know what she knew and not spook her.
“No. I asked Henry about it, but he didn’t know. Only that Dr. Jaffe had done something to make Sam want to pound him into little pieces.”
The moment we walked through the doors of the Galleria, I felt better. I took a deep breath of the money-filled air and let the shopping endorphins fill me. We hit all the biggies, filling bags with accessories for the new coffee bar and the employee lounge. At first, Meg had been a little reluctant to spend someone else’s money, but once she loosened up, she surprised me with her terrific eye.
From the mall, we headed to one of my favorite boutiques. I hadn’t been back to my neighborhood since I’d watched the police cart away my life in several boxes. It felt good to be somewhere familiar, even if I did feel out of place in the midst of the obvious decadence. Even the planters framing the entrance were plated in gold.
“You’ll love it here,” I said to Meg as I opened the door. The store’s soft lighting offered a refreshing contrast to the bright spring sun and accentuated the crisp, neutral décor.
“May I help you?” A short, older man with glasses approached us. He must have been new. I didn’t recognize him. He moved his glasses down his nose and looked at us. “Hmmm.”
Meg looked around. “Some of the lighting pieces here are spectacular.” She picked up a Schonbek French gold and crystal table lamp and traced its shape.
“Excuse me, miss. Please don’t touch that.” The little man, whose name tag said Barney, hurried over and took the lamp from Meg.
She looked at the floor and tugged on her mini.
“I don’t think we’ll have what you’re looking for,” Barney said as he set the lamp back down.
“Oh, and what exactly is it that you think we’re looking for?” I asked, crossing my arms and giving Barney my best hairy eyeball.
“It’s okay, Kat.” Meg headed quickly for the door.
He grimaced at me then took a towel from his back pocket and began to clean the lamp as if Meg had contaminated it.
“Let me tell you, Barney”—I pointed my finger at his bald head—“you’re going to regret that.”
I ran after Meg, who was already outside. “I’m so sorry. Some people are just boobs.”
“It’s not your fault. I know I look different.”
“I don’t think bald Barney, with his horn-rims, is one to be calling anyone out for how they look.”
She smiled. “Can I take you somewhere? I want to show you something.”
We drove to a part of town near the university and pulled into the driveway of a restored Victorian.
An acorn-and-leaf iron fence framed the walkway to the beauty. The fine metalwork continued up the steps leading to the door. Italianate features such as curved window caps and corner boards in an exuberant, eclectic style caught my eye first, but it had a Neoclassical Revival front porch with Ionic columns
and an open staircase turret in Queen Anne style. The three-story tower and elaborate iron ridge board suggested Second Empire style. Whatever its story, the detailing was impeccable, and the remodel had really done the house justice.
A sign planted in the lawn read “Too Good to Be Threw.”
“This place is gorgeous, Meg.”
“Wait until you see the inside.”
I wasn’t disappointed. Not only had the detailing of the restoration continued in the interior, but also the store inside the house had the most charming and eclectic accessories. I ran my hand over a beautifully stitched tablecloth made from what looked like antique wedding dresses and fawned over a collection of hand-embroidered pillows.
“Over here.” Meg motioned from where she stood in front of a table. It contained a collection of dazzling lamps fashioned from old piping, gears, and other industrial parts. They looked more like art than light but were wonderfully functional. A small card on the table read “Megathons.”
“Did you make these? They’re wonderful.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“Gosh, no. First, we have to have some of these for the morgue. They’re perfect. And second, I know how I’m going to get even with Barney.”
Meg smiled big. “How?”
“It’s a surprise, but you’ll love it. Now, how about some of that ice cream from that shop on the corner? Burns is rewarding us for our hard work.” I giggled as I held up McPhee’s credit card.
Once we were situated in front of a bowl of Jamocha Almond Fudge, I figured it was time to get down to business. “Thanks for doing this with me today. I really had a lot of fun.”
“Me too.”
“Most of my close friends don’t live here anymore, and the ones left don’t exactly want to be seen with me these days.”
“Well, that just makes them boobs, and you now know who your real friends are. It’s for the best, anyway, not to have cling-ons who only love your money.” Meg patted her head repeatedly. “Brain freeze.”
“I need to ask you something personal.”
