“Of course, most of the time, but don’t get me started on the Kardashians.”
Actually, I couldn’t shut her up about them.
Finally, though, I said, “Hey, I pity you, but tell me more about the guy from Hong Kong and his manager. By the way, I assume you have an alibi for the night the kid vanished.”
She laughed like I’d praised her to the skies. “You’re welcome to give me the third degree, but Sparkle and I were on a plane to Hawaii that evening. The head stewardess will remember us because we helped her get over a breakup with her cheating Romeo. Girl Power.”
Lovely, blonde Sparkle worked in a shop at Pam’s hotel, and they’d been a couple for over a year. Sweet Sparkle wasn’t much of an alibi, but the airline’s manifest would be. “Be sure to invite your main squeeze to our little get-together tonight. Back to the real subject. What exactly did Wang’s manager do to piss you off?”
“He was unhappy about everything. His prodigy needed special drinks, vitamins, cushions, and a gofer, even though the star kept telling us he was fine. Naturally, the manager wasn’t happy with the many extras we provided. Kept telling me that people back in Hong Kong who pissed him off ended up dead. At the time, I thought he was joking, but after Wang vanished, I heard lots of rumors about his family and triads. That was scary.”
I had a little more for her. “Keep it to yourself, but that manager has a real problem. Hasn’t been seen since he returned to Hong Kong.”
“Oooh. Maybe I said too much. I hate to speak ill of the departed.”
“Did you exaggerate?” I asked.
“No, but still, I keep telling myself I need to be less catty.”
She probably was right, but that made her a great source for local gossip. I asked, “Of all the rappers you met, who would be most likely to talk to me about Wang?”
“I’d say Lil’ Rebel. The two of them hung out together, at least in the beginning. Don’t know what happened later. By the end of their four-day workshop, I was dealing with a Saudi prince and his harem. One of his wives was a kleptomaniac.”
I didn’t know most of the stage names yet. “Who’s Lil’ Rebel?”
“She came from Denver. Dinah White.”
That was good news. I could probably get permission to travel there, once I was formally back on the job.
While I had Pam on the line, I had to snoop about someone else. “Hey, what do you know about Charlotte Higgins? She seems to be connected to the Wang case, at least tangentially. Anything I should know?”
“Sparkle and I like her a lot. I was shocked to hear about her being attacked. Can’t believe what happened to poor Charlie.”
We talked about him a bit, but neither of us had known him well. I brought the conversation back around to Charlotte. “Any shadows following her around?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Very smart, particularly with money and high tech. A great cook, especially French and Italian food. Loves the outdoors, like you, and before she vanished, I was thinking of arranging a get-together with you and her. Is she okay, do you know? This morning, the radio said the assassin was Russian.”
“According to my sources, she got away clean. The trouble came from some super-secret government work she does that pissed off the Russian mob. Charlotte needs to stay hid for a while. I doubt she’ll ever come back to Aspen.”
After I hung up with my former flame, I started work on a memo justifying trips to Denver and LA to interview witnesses who’d avoided giving official statements to Aspen PD.
Chapter 6
I spent the afternoon riding Rambo in the high country above my cabin and keeping Boomer in sight. Some of the aspens were already starting to change colors, and in a few weeks the mountains would be covered with gold.
When we returned to my cabin, I checked my voicemail. Six messages, but none from Randy telling me I was back on the clock. The first was from Jasmine at the local radio station, but she’d have to get her news officially this time.
Several of the other messages were from friends worried about me, and I responded to them on Facebook. The last one came from Mom.
Like most of the folks in Gunnison, my folks were ultraconservative. Since I came out, Dad pretended I didn’t exist, Mom still talked to me, but she did everything possible to change what she called my “alternate lifestyle.” She was particularly keen on conversion therapy.
That naturally strained our relationship. Over the last few years, all we did was speak briefly and exchange cards on holidays and anniversaries. They had their view of the world, and I had mine.
But this time, Mom sounded different. Her message in a quivering voice said, “I saw pictures of you on the news. Can you call me to let me know whether you’re really okay?”
I did call.
She immediately began sobbing. It took me twenty minutes to calm her down. At least she still cared about me. That warmed my heart.
Neither of us mentioned Dad.
Relationships had always been hard for me, but Mom’s voice rather than her words told me we still had a chance to share our lives with each other. And, for once, she didn’t mention therapy.
We made vague plans to get together for lunch sometime, but I couldn’t commit to a specific date until the Wang case ended.
After hearing from so many people about how terrible I looked, I went online to check the photos for myself. Nothing official had been posted on the department’s website, but Facebook was full of pictures cops had taken with me, all of us grinning like we’d just gotten off of one of the world’s most dangerous roller coasters. Which, of course, we had. There was nothing like dodging bullets to get the heart pumping.
At dinnertime, I gave Boomer his kibble. Also, because he’d been a hero yesterday, I gave him half of a steak I’d grilled for myself.
For some reason, I wasn’t as hungry as usual. The shootout with the Russian had been the closest I’d come to dying. It was worse than being blown up in a Hummer by an IED. The driver had died, but I was sitting in the back. I’d just lost my foot and ankle.
To help get rid of the intense emotions flooding through me, I offered a prayer to the Almighty asking that I’d never come this close to flying bullets again.
Boomer and I ate out on a deck in front of my cabin and watched thunderheads building over the Elk Mountains. I couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful and serene. But it wasn’t getting me any closer to solving Splendid’s murder. I wasn’t going to feel beautiful and serene inside until I found the killer. Jenkins and my parents needed to know that a disabled, gay woman was any man’s equal when it came to solving crimes.
-o-o-o-
As I was about to go to bed, my phone rang. The Caller ID said Sutallee, Georgia. I didn’t know anybody there, or even within that state, so I ignored it. Too often, lately, I’d been getting robocalls from the weirdest places.
And whoever it was left a message. I checked my computer while I sat back against the headboard in my bed.
A familiar haughty British voice sent a chill of excitement through me. Charlotte Higgins.
She sounded annoyed. “I’ve called several times to check on you, Hank, but I keep missing you. Can you call me back?” She left a number then said, “Please, don’t give that out to anyone.”
I dialed. “Sorry, didn’t recognize your number. How’d you get mine?”
“We cannot speak over an unencrypted network. I’ll send you a program to allow secure communication. Install Shazam’s Sassy Cleaner on your computer. And please don’t dawdle. I’ve been worried to distraction about you.”
She hung up before I could say anything.
So much for going to sleep. My heart raced. Why was I so anxious to talk with a tall, slim woman who kept so many secrets locked inside?
Something about her voice had triggered a sudden hunger, something far out of reach. I couldn’t let my mind think about how beautiful she was. Higgins was gone from Aspen for good. That much was
obvious.
Even so, when an email popped up in my personal account, a thrill raced through me, until I realized it was spam. Some company named Shazam! was promoting cleaning products. I was about to delete it when I vaguely remembered that Higgins had mentioned that name.
Was this her being sneaky? The ad contained the typical hard sell pitch for cleaning products. I looked closer, and the ad mentioned purifying my hard drive and had a spotted picture of an ugly old witch with green skin typing on a computer. The ad copy said, Rid All Your Electronic Devices of Nasty Viruses by Using Sassy Cleanup!
Filled with doubt, I clicked on a button that said, Save Me Now!
Microsoft immediately flashed a box in the center of my screen. It said, don’t be stupid and recommended against installing a program from an unknown source. Gritting my teeth, I clicked Continue anyway.
You are an idiot. She’ll only get you in trouble.
Whirring noises started, and cryptic messages flashed on the screen too quickly for me to read. Had I been conned?
Finally, Higgins’s smiling face popped up in a window in the middle of my display. A wave of relief flowed through me. Her furrowed brow showed her worry and warmed my heart.
Relief changed into hunger. Her long chestnut hair cascaded in waves past her shoulders. Her long, narrow face belonged on the cover of Vogue. God, she was beautiful.
“First, Hank,” she asked, “how are you? The news reports make it sound like you were in a gun battle with the Russian thug who broke into my home. And your face looks better than online but not like it used to.”
Her question transported me back to Ernie’s place and the ruthless killer. “I guess, I was in a gunfight. We exchanged bullets, for damned sure. Several of his shots came too close for comfort. But most of the cuts to my face happened when one of his rounds shattered a window near me. Overall, though, I’m fine. Again, how’d you get my personal number and email?”
Her beaming smile caught me off-guard. “I snoop, my noble knight. It’s what I do for a living. I happen to know all about Deputy Henrietta Annabelle Morgan.”
Creepy! I already had enough trouble in my life without a long-distance sexy stalker. “Cut that out, or the Russians won’t be the only ones after you.”
She giggled. “You look awfully cute when you’re annoyed. Actually, I told you, my job consists of protecting financial networks, mostly ones operated by sovereign governments. As part of my work, I’ve learned the tricks criminals use to hack into private networks. By the way, your department’s security is terribly out of date, and your favorite password, Dirtyharry, was pitifully easy to guess.”
I needed to take a few seconds to consider whether I had any secrets left. What did I really need to keep away from her? Nothing crucial came to mind. My bank account was almost empty, and my credit card was maxed out.
She seemed to read my thoughts. “Of course, I could draw down all your accounts, but there isn’t much, is there? More importantly, Hank, I only use my knowledge to protect others, or myself.”
She was right about my lack of assets. It took most of my salary to pay the mortgage and pay my basic expenses.
With a mischievous smile, she said, “And I won’t tell anyone about your girl-on-girl video collection.”
That set me off. “You’ve no damned right to snoop. I could issue an arrest—”
“Calm down, my lovely Amazon. I needed to make sure you weren’t hiding some threat to me. And I have to admit Taylor Goes Wild sounds sizzling.”
It was wowzah, but I wasn’t going to let Charlotte distract me. “What about you? You know all my secrets, but I don’t know a damned thing about you. Not even your real name.”
“I love the way your voice deepens when you’re feeling righteous,” she said. “I’ve always been strongly attracted to powerful, determined women.”
Not subtle, but I wasn’t going to be deterred from asking her some personal questions. And I was sure one look at my stump would cool any excitement she felt. “Look, you can dial back the sexy. I’m big on honesty and candor. Most cops are. And you have to be a good five years younger than me.”
She pouted like she was surprised that I’d seen through her act. “Eight, since you treasure the truth so much. I’m twenty-five. What else do you need to know about me? I’ve been vetted by national security experts in the United States, Great Britain, the European Union, Switzerland, Singapore, and Japan. Why isn’t that good enough? I’m not asking you to give me anything but a little time and attention. Next weekend, I could fly you to New York for a couple of shows. The Bolshoi is appearing at the Met. I know how much you love the ballet.”
Mom had instilled a love of dance in me, and I would’ve given odds that Charlotte had been a ballerina once. It was easy to see from the way she moved. “Sorry. I’ll be working constantly until I find Splendiferous Wang’s killer. Have you trained as a dancer?”
She tittered. “Glad you noticed. Growing up, I took fifteen years of ballet lessons. Performed innumerable times with a troupe in Lyons.”
“Lyons, France? You’re really French instead of English?”
“Mais, oui!” Her accent changed in a flash, and she showed a picture on-screen of her from probably a decade ago. She was dressed in one of those gauzy ballet costumes that seems invisible.
Talk about wowzah. She looked like a fairy. The camera had caught her in mid-leap, with her long, flowing hair wrapped around her neck. I was entranced, but I did my best to keep a straight face.
“Nice. I’m guessing Balanchine’s Midsummer Night's Dream, but look, I have to protect myself. What’s your real name, and where did you grow up?”
She sighed, and the French accent strengthened. “I would never tell you, except for the fact that I have checked you out thoroughly. You were a female Marine who’d requested work in Iraq. And our mutual friends in Aspen trust you completely.”
She didn’t mention my wound, and I hoped she didn’t know. “The sisterhood is unbelievably strong here,” I said. “I’m so sorry you had to leave. Okay, you’ve stonewalled long enough. Real name, and where are you from?”
She hissed out of breath. “Guard this information with your life, Hank. I was born as Christine Fleury in Lyons. My parents still live on a farm a half-hour northeast of the city. Satisfied?”
“For the moment. How did you get away from here? I heard about the rope ladder in your bedroom.”
“I’d made prior arrangements with a neighbor who, for a considerable fee, had promised to drive me anywhere I chose at a moment’s notice. She kept her word and drove me to Aspen’s airport. I barely missed a flight for Houston. The next departure wasn’t scheduled for two hours, and I was afraid to stay. My neighbor took some persuading, but she drove me to Colorado Springs. From there, I caught a plane to Kansas City.”
“What name did you use?”
“Julie Reynolds, an escape ID provided by the US Marshals. Now, I’m using still another name.”
Her flight as Reynolds would be easy enough for me to check. “Thank God, everything worked out. I was worried sick when I first got the call early Friday. I assume you know Charlie Raton gave his life to save yours.”
Her eyes teared up. “I’ve said many prayers to the Virgin asking her to honor him in heaven for his sacrifice.”
During a moment of silence, I said a prayer for him, too. Then, I added, “It’s obviously too dangerous for you to return here.”
“For now, but the marshals tell me the CIA has been ordered to destroy the bratva cell in St. Petersburg. Very senior American officials are beyond frustrated with the brazenness of Russian organized crime.”
The sooner I got off this video chat with her, the better. She wouldn’t be able to come back to Aspen, even if the CIA wiped out her tormentors. Her cover here had been blown for good. “You’re lucky to have such powerful friends. Please stay safe.”
“Not so fast, mon amie. Why are you trying to brush me awa
y?” she asked with a smirk. “I might be able to help you with your rapper case. Just my way of thanking you for obtaining justice for Charlie Raton and his family.”
“Too dangerous for you. Plus, Splendiferous Wang had his own mob ties.”
“I will come back to you after the American spies take care of the bratva. Even before, however, I can assist you remotely. I perform most of my work from afar.”
I wasn’t supposed to be investigating the murder case, but I’d already broken that rule. In for a dime, in for a dollar.
“Do you know anything about Chinese triads, particularly those from Hong Kong?” I asked.
She grimaced. “As bad as the Russians, if not worse. Why do you think they’re involved?”
I explained what little I’d learned about Splendid’s family connections. Then I said, “In short, those dirt bags are always fighting one another, and I haven’t found any other possible motive for murder.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m fluent in many European languages, but I can barely converse in Cantonese. That’s the common tongue in Hong Kong. If your theory about triad involvement is right, you’re going to need an interpreter fluent in Cantonese. While you search for a translator, I’ll see what I can find out about the crime families there.”
“Whoa,” I said. “I don’t want you to risk exposing yourself to more danger. You’re in enough trouble already.”
She smiled at me so tenderly, I knew I had to fight any thoughts about romance. She didn’t know the real me.
“I deeply appreciate your concern, Hank, it’s truly touching. Rest easy. The only work I will do is subtle snooping through Internet sources. I allowed too many people to know about my activities on behalf of the Belgians. In this case, I will only reveal my undercover work to you. I’ve learned my lesson.”
I had no idea how to protect her online. The only response I could come up with was trite. “First rule of law enforcement, girl, stay safe.”
“I will, ma héroïne.”
Which led me to wonder what to call her. I couldn’t keep using Charlotte. “Did you have a nickname as a kid?”
His Song Silenced Page 5
