by Trixie More
Clicking on a link, a photo opened up and she felt her breath catch. It was a photo of the older Camisa at a blackjack table, grinning at the camera and holding up a stack of chips. Sophia’s heart started to pound. Seated two chairs to his left was Michael Nuri, deep in conversation with another man. Michael Nuri was speaking to the same man Deb had identified. The man with the hairy arms. Suddenly, helping Doug Lloyd out didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
The only light at Sophia’s desk was from overhead fluorescents and did nothing to dispel the gloomy mood she was in. The guy, two seats over, wore yellow-tinted glasses to keep out the blue light, maybe she should try that, not. Sophia shook her head. Another guy on this team spent his weekend online gaming. Most days, she wondered how the hell she’d landed in this division.
“Sophia?” The voice at her shoulder was deferential.
Instead of just calling her, Joe from the front desk, had walked up.
“Yeah? What’s up, Joe?”
“There’s a man downstairs who insists on seeing you,” he said.
“Who is it?”
“His name is Doug Lloyd,” Joe said.
That was interesting, especially after her reading last night.
“I’ll come down and speak to him,” she said. Joe didn’t move. Sophia spent a few seconds gathering a pencil and a note pad, but he made no move to leave. “Go ahead, Joe. I’ll be down in a minute.” She felt a tiny twinge at his crestfallen face, but she squashed it. He wouldn’t have waited for Jacob, heck, he would have just called Jacob.
She let Lloyd wait a bit, and then she headed to the lobby. He was on the other side of the metal detectors, standing by Joe’s desk.
“Mr. Lloyd,” she said as she approached the backside of the lobby desk.
“Ms. Moss,” he replied. Today he had on his leather jacket, jeans, and a dark blue button-down shirt. He looked her straight in the eyes, and she found it disconcerting.
I’m just not used to that, she thought.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked.
“I’d like to speak to you,” he said. “Did you read my notes?”
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, I’d like to speak with you about the Colton Gerrimon case,” he said. He had his chin tilted up, showing the slightest hint of a cleft. His head was tipped to the right just a bit, and the rounded muscles, orbicularis oris they were called, showed up as crescents at the sides of his mouth, a small, smug half-smile pushing them into prominence. His eyes mocked her.
He’s daring me to help him, she thought.
“Fine,” she said. After Jacob’s behavior yesterday, she didn’t want to bring Doug upstairs. It also didn’t look good for her to be walking outside with a known felon. “Come through the metal detector, and I’ll escort you upstairs.”
Sophia watched, her arms crossed on her chest as he took off his jacket and laid it on the conveyor. The shirt was an athletic cut and fit him well. He waited in line, his face impassive. His brow slightly overshadowed his eyes, the leanness of his face gave his face a sculpted look at this angle. Overall, his face was nothing to write home about.
A woman with two small children was behind him, and he twisted slightly, looking back at her. One child was on her hip, listlessly laying against her, short limbs dangling, but the other was swinging from the conveyor. She was trying to take his coat off and still hold the little one. Doug turned toward the conveyor and squatted down. Sophia could see the side of his face, his brow raised and wrinkled as he spoke earnestly to the child. The boy glanced up to his mother and then let go of the machine, docilely allowing his coat to be removed. Doug rose in a fluid motion and continued on.
Once Doug was through the line, he turned. Spotting Sophia, he turned that direct and disturbing gaze on her once again.
“Lead on,” he said.
They rode upstairs in silence, the only two in the elevator. Doug stood next to her, a few feet away, and she found herself supremely conscious of where he was. What was it about him? He was so ordinary. Not tall, not handsome, not ugly. He was an ordinary-looking man with short-cropped hair, a scruffy red beard, slight mustache, smallish eyes, smallish mouth, a nose that looked flat from the side. She stole a look at him. He turned and looked directly at her, his expression inscrutable. She glanced away, and the doors opened, thankfully.
“Follow me,” she said and walked away without glancing back. She entered one of the conference rooms on the floor below hers and left the door open. She gestured to a chair and took a seat herself, finally feeling in control. She opened up her notebook and started a section labeled “Gerrimon.” “Now, what is it you want to discuss?”
With Doug sitting in the chair where she’d seen so many people seated, she could tell what was different about him. His thighs were thick, and he kept his legs spread, his chair well back from the table. His shoulders filled the chair, but his waist was lean, caving inward as he sat, slightly slouched. He had his eyebrows raised in slight interest, mirrored by the faint lines on his brow. She found his attention unsettling, as if he saw something different than other men.
He sat forward, his elbows on his thighs, hands folded together, hanging between his knees. “I think a crime was committed.”
“You think Gerrimon was killed,” she stated, and his mouth turned down, brows raised farther.
“Yeah, that’s what I think,” he said.
“Mr. Lloyd, a lot of people think that,” she said. “Almost all his investors are filing a suit against the company. Why not join them?”
“Because I’m not interested in a long, drawn-out case trying to prove malfeasance against a company, in hopes of getting back pennies on the dollar,” he said.
“Really, and what are you interested in?”
“I want to find who killed Gerrimon because I don’t think any of the money is stored in the cold wallet. I think it’s all been moved already.”
Well, that was undoubtedly a different theory of the crime. Sophia glanced at the door. She didn’t want Jacob to catch her away from her desk. Her locked desk.
“What makes you think that?”
“Before I give you my thoughts, I want to know what this department is pursuing regarding this case,” he said.
“Fine,” she said. “At this time, there’s no current investigation into Colton Gerrimon. His death was ruled an accident.”
“So, how do I get one started?” Doug said.
She’d be lying if she said it didn’t give her a bit of pleasure to stick it to this ex-convict no matter how intriguing his notes were. He was a bad man, and she’d do well to keep that in mind.
“You can’t, Mr. Lloyd,” she said. “Like I told you before, you can report a crime to your local precinct...”
“Which I’ve done!” He stood.
“Well, then, I’d say you’re right on track then. If the detectives find anything of interest, I’m sure they can handle it.”
The pale brows drew together, his mouth shut tight. He was shaking his head just a bit, frustration evident on his face. At this moment, he was so expressive she could almost read his mind.
“Did you have any actual evidence, anything beyond what was on that paper? Anything related to the Camisa family, maybe?” Sophia glanced at the door again.
“What are you worried about?” Doug asked.
Sophia frowned. “In relation to what?”
“The door,” he said abruptly. He didn’t elaborate, but his face was an open book. Gone was the frustration, replaced by sharp curiosity.
“My boss reacted...” She shut her mouth. Why the hell had she started to speak?
“To what?” he asked.
“Never mind. I have your phone number. If something comes up, I’ll be in touch,” Sophia said.
“I have a witness that connects Camisa to Gerrimon.”
That was very interesting.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“You have to hear the whole story,” he said.
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“Mr. Lloyd, you’re here without an appointment, and I don’t have time.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
“Let me walk you out. Like I said, I’ll be in touch,” Sophia said.
He followed quietly until they got to the exit. Lloyd turned to Sophia as if he wanted to say something, but then he rolled his shoulders and walked across the lobby, pushing open the large glass door without looking back. Sophia watched him walk away. She couldn’t explain why she felt cheated.
Chapter 7
It was a week before the too-pretty prosecutor called him. When she did, he got her to agree to meet him at a bar. So now, Doug had an hour more to kill at work before he could head over to find out what she wanted. The suspense was killing him.
“Hey.” Tommy looked around his monitor at Doug. Their desks were facing each other, next to the big windows. Across the floor, a dozen people were working. “You want to go get some dinner?”
His best friend’s face was starting to fill out again, his color was back, and the dark circles under his eyes were getting lighter. Renting desk space to solopreneurs had been Tommy’s idea. Each filled chair was another dollar in the accounts.
“We’ve got three more possible renters,” Doug said. “When do you want to meet with them?”
“Not today,” Tommy said. “I’m not working another minute.” He stood up and walked to the windows, reaching above his head to stretch. He dropped his arms. “You coming?”
Doug was about to say no, but Tommy cut him off.
“It might be nice, you know, for us to just relax, be just ourselves for a night?” Tommy had the oddest expression. His face was like he was holding his breath, like he was hoping for Doug to join him.
“Fine. If it means that much to you,” Doug said. “I’ll come, but I only have an hour.”
The disappointment was much easier to read on Tommy’s face. “That’s all? What are you doing? Getting your nails done?”
Doug smiled. He didn’t have much in his life other than work, that was true.
“Tell Alice you’ll call her later,” Tommy said.
“I’m meeting a prosecutor,” Doug said. “Don’t look so alarmed. I’m trying to figure out how to get our money back.”
“The money that’s in the cold wallet?” Tommy sounded incredulous. “Give it up, Doug.”
“What would you say if I told you I think that wallet’s empty?”
His friend looked at him with wide eyes. “Whatever makes...” Tommy stopped. “Whatever, Doug. Let’s go eat.”
They had burgers at a diner, and just as they were finishing up, Doug got a text from Sophia Moss. She couldn’t find the place.
He gave her permission to see his location and texted back.
I’m heading there now. Follow me.
“I gotta go, Tommy,” he said.
“You want me to come?” Tommy asked.
“Nah, this one’s nice looking. If you’re there, she’ll just ignore me and talk to you,” he said.
“Doug, when have you ever seen me with a girlfriend?” Tommy was staring at him. Doug shrugged his coat on, but something in his friend’s expression stopped him.
“What? Women love you,” Doug said.
Tommy started to speak but wound up saying nothing.
“I’m going,” Doug said.
“Fine,” Tommy said. “Have a good one.” He shoved a cold fry into his mouth, refusing to look at Doug. For his part, Doug dropped a twenty on the table and clapped his friend on the back.
“Good meal. Thanks for getting me down here.”
“Sure, Doug.” Tommy was already flicking at his cell phone.
“‘Night,” Doug said. “See you in the morning.”
He headed out and down the street to the bar, and he waited outside until he saw the too pretty prosecutor coming. She was taller than other women she passed, but not taller than most men. Maybe he should have brought Tommy to tell Prosecutor Moss firsthand what had transpired with Camisa, but Doug wanted to meet with her alone first. He had no interest in giving her Tommy’s name until he trusted her.
She was almost here, ivory trench coat firmly in place, a dark bag on her shoulder, slacks, flat shoes. He wanted to know what had been bothering her during their meeting in the conference room. Honestly, his attraction to her had existed since that first day he’d seen her before he went inside. His comment to Tommy hadn’t been a lie. Women all loved Tommy, which was ironic since he was pretty sure his friend was gay. It wasn’t something they discussed. To that point, people often thought he and Tommy were a couple, which was ridiculous on so many levels, but there it was. He didn’t want this woman to make that mistake.
Foolish, since she was stunning and if there was one thing he didn’t want, it was a beautiful woman. He’d had Janice and look how that turned out.
“Where is it?” Sophia said as she walked up. “I’ve been up and down this block.”
Doug gestured to the door behind him.
“That’s it?” she asked. “It’s a dive.”
“It’s good whiskey, not overpriced,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “The windows are blacked. I’m not going in there.”
“Just look inside.” He held the door open for her, and she squeezed past him, craning her neck.
“It’s dark,” she said.
“It’s cozy,” he countered.
She backed up. “I’m not going into a bar with blackened windows.”
“Okay, fine. Where do you prefer?” he said.
She gestured down the way she came. “There’s an Irish pub about two blocks that way. Since you like whiskey.”
“Let’s go.”
They walked in silence for a block before she finally decided to speak to him. “I guess you’re surprised we’re meeting outside of my work.”
Was she uncomfortable?
“Not really,” he said.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her face guarded.
“I want to ask you some questions,” she said.
He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Shoot.”
There were a lot of people on the sidewalk tonight, and he had to keep stepping away from her, moving through the crowds. When he did, she kept track of him with little glances.
They were at the pub soon enough; broad windows, with shamrocks painted on the glass, a polished bar with hanging lights, and a modern vibe. Their hands collided as they both reached for the door handle and he stepped back, waiting, while she opened the door herself.
He didn’t like that she’d opened the door herself and for some reason that made Sophia smile. This bar was much, much better. It was open and friendly and she knew the bartender. Also, it was not a cop hangout either.
“Sophia. What’ll you have?” The bartender tossed his white rag under the bar.
“I will have an Irish Hillside, if you please,” she said grandly, and the bartender groaned and laughed.
“You try my patience, Sophia” he said. “I’m not even sure I have a cucumber around here.”
She smiled and waved her arm. “I’m impressed you know it. My friend here will have...”
“Powers Gold on the rocks, if you’ve got it. If not, Jameson will do.”
She leaned over and whispered to Doug, “Try the Green Spot, he’s got to get it out anyway.”
“I’ve been told I’ll have the Green Spot,” Doug said, and that got a laugh.
She smiled at him. In this light, in an Irish bar, he was almost attractive.
“Ben stopping in tonight?” asked the bartender.
She read curiosity and tension in Doug’s expression, almost like he was jealous.
“We’ll see,” Sophia said and settled on her stool. The cocktail she’d ordered would take a while.
“So, I looked into your notes, which weren’t much to go on,” she said.
“And?”
“And I want to know more,” Sophia said. “For instance, how come you have Nuri and Macd
onald written on the back of that page?”
Doug stood, reaching into his hip pocket, taking out his wallet.
“I’ll pay for my own drink,” she said.
“I’m happy to pay.” His voice sounded harsh to Sophia’s ears.
The bartender set their drinks, and Doug gestured at a booth. “Let’s get some privacy.”
She noticed that his first inclination was to turn toward the back of the bar, but then he glanced at her and the windows. She expected him to be gracious and defer to her preference for windows, but then, he turned again and headed to the back. She followed.
When they were settled, he leaned into the corner of his side and put one leg on the bench. She watched him swallow his first sip. The first sip of the whiskey was the one to savor because it revealed the real flavor, although the second was always the tastiest. Doug closed his eyes while the liquor rolled down. His eyes were still shut as he started to speak.
“While I was inside, my friend had power of attorney. Marco Camisa Junior approached him and offered him an investment with an attractive return,” Doug said. “It was in Colton Gerrimon’s business.”
“What kind of investment?” she asked.
Opening his eyes and turning to her, Doug said, “an unusual one.”
She sipped her cocktail, the pale green cucumber shaving twisting in the glass.
Doug sighed, and she noticed again the appealing timbre of his voice, smooth, low.
“An offer that was too good to refuse. He should have taken a pass on it but he was desperate. I was getting out soon and he hadn’t told me yet how much money we’d lost. He kept thinking that the business would rebound.”
