He was a good looking man, sort of. A shade over six feet with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He worked out a lot. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. When she made love to him, she appreciated the strength and power of that body. She felt like she was controlling a dangerous animal.
He was brown over brown, dark brown hair and brown eyes. His face, well, he had suffered a skin condition when he was young. His complexion resembled the craters on the moon. If she was honest, she would have said that he had a rugged handsomeness.
“Tom, what do you have for me?” It was safer if she got right down to business.
“I got the coroner’s report back on Donna Harrison. We still don’t have any physical evidence. No obvious suspects. The husband’s alibied. He’s a stay-at-home house husband. He was with his kids at the time. They’ve both confirmed it. She was the president of some sort of high tech security firm. No one seems to know what she was working on.”
Should she share what she knew? “I find that hard to believe.” No, there was no reason to show her cards too early. “How can someone as visible as the president of the company not have anyone know what they’re doing?”
Tom unbuttoned his coat. Cat always kept her car warm.
“It smells to me, too, but they’ve buttoned up tight. Husband, secretary, other corporate officers all refuse to tell me anything.”
Cat scanned her rearview mirrors. She never sat still in one place for long without checking her perimeters for threats.
“Everyone seems to like Mrs. Harrison. She won some kind of big industry award a few years ago for fighting computer viruses.”
“Could that have something to do with it? The Russian Mafia is into all sorts of computer crime.”
Tom shook his head. “It doesn’t look like a professional hit to me. I’m guessing that whoever killed her didn’t mean to do it. She was tortured, her heart gave out. I think it probably surprised him as much as it surprised her.” He took a sip of his coffee.
Okay, she thought. What was the bastard up to? What did she know that he wanted to know?
“It was an interesting case of torture.” Tom continued. “Except for the electrical shock, no other signs of trauma. No sexual trauma. He didn’t hit her, didn’t inflict any other kinds of pain. Of course, he could have pulled out her finger nails, we’ve never recovered her fingers or teeth.”
“Great, he was a considerate torturer.”
“It was definitely sexual-sadistic torture. I think that was as much for humiliation as it was to induce pain. This guy’s half a bubble off level.”
“I wonder if he’s going to strike again. Or was this just about Donna? He needed some information from her, now he’s done?”
Tom studied her for a minute. She could see his investigator’s wheels turning in his head.
“So, Cat, you’ve never told me what your interest in this case is. It doesn’t look like a divorce case to me. She seems to have had a happy home. No abuse, she was the breadwinner. I doubt if it’s sexual harassment, she was the top dog at her company. Who would harass her? What’s this all about?”
Should she tell him about her case? She was bound to keep Alison Clarke’s confidence, but this was now a murder investigation.
“It really doesn’t have much to do with the case I’m working on. I just stumbled onto Donna peripherally. She was a friend of my client’s and she disappeared. That’s all.”
“I get tired of this one-way street. You always come to me when you need something, but you never share what you know with me. You can’t always expect me to be there at your beck and call. Cat, either we get serious or we don’t, but you can’t just keep me dangling.”
This wasn’t about the case was it? It always came back to their relationship. Did they even have a relationship?
She liked Tom. He was always there when she needed him. But there were the trust issues, she couldn’t bring herself to trust any man.
“Well, whoever did it, whatever his reasons, he deserves to be punished. We have to find him. An eye for and eye, justice demands it. Someone like that has to be removed from society.”
“Cat, don’t go there. I know how your mind works. This isn’t one of your domestic violence cases. We’re going to get the bastard. Don’t get involved. Let us do our job. We’re pretty good at this, you know.”
A light rain splattered on the windshield. The evening darkened, along with her mood.
Chapter 15
The flight from Seattle to LA was a two and a half hour hop. Chris barely had time to get his long legs uncoiled and catch a nap when the captain announced they were preparing to land.
Ted fidgeted in the seat next to Chris. Ted’s anxiousness mildly amused Chris. He had visited Ted’s family a couple of times in college, but he’d never seen his friend so nervous.
The warm LA evening hit Chris in the face as he walked down the jet way. This sure isn’t Seattle in November.
It was all Chris could do to keep up with Ted as he sprinted to the baggage claim area.
“Where’s the damned baggage?” Ted danced on one foot at the side of the baggage carousel.
“Calm down, amigo. The baggage’ll get here when it gets here.”
Finally, after an inordinate amount of time, Chris’ TravelPro case and Ted’s backpack came down the chute.
“Let’s get a move on. Hope’s probably waiting for us.” Ted slung his pack over his shoulder and darted towards the door like he was returning a kickoff against UCLA.
Chris followed his friend to the sliding glass doors at a more sedate pace. By the time he made it to the pickup area, Ted had dropped his pack on the pavement next to an old white Chevy conversion van and swept his little sister up in his arms.
“Chris, you remember Hope don’t you?” Ted dropped the pretty girl back to the ground.
It always confused Chris. Half the time Ted called his sister Hope and the other half he used her Mexican name, Esperanza, which meant Hope. “Of course I remember you.”
Hope flung her arms around Chris and gave him a big hug.
“Hi, Chris. We’re all so excited to see you guys. We haven’t seen Teddy in months.”
“Wow! You’ve really grown up.” Chris held Hope by her shoulders and looked her up and down. Actually, she hadn’t grown up as much as she had filled out. She still couldn’t be a millimeter over five-foot-two, but she wasn’t the gangly teenager Chris remembered from his last visit. Here was one hell of a good-looking young woman.
Her deep chocolate eyes were what Chris’ mom would have called bedroom eyes. Her long black hair hung luxuriously down to her waist. She did a good job filling out the tight jeans and Old Navy T-Shirt too.
“Let’s get going, hermanos, your flight was late. Mom’s expecting you.”
Hope took the 105 to the 110, finally exiting onto S. Alameda Street. Friday night rush hour traffic was every bit the nightmare in LA that it was in Seattle. By the time Hope pulled through the wrought iron gates into the driveway of the modest Spanish Colonial style house, Chris was ready to stretch his legs.
The house was Papa’s pride and joy. He spent every off hour working on the yard or fixing up the house. A high stucco fence surrounded the property with a wrought-iron gate and matching wrought-iron bars over the windows. A fountain trickled in the driveway with an avocado tree to one side and an orange tree to the other.
Chris had been here before, but there seemed to be an energy emanating from the stucco walls and red tile roof of Ted’s house. He heard music coming from within.
The front door flew open.
“They’re here!” A dark-haired teenage boy cried back into the house. His deep tan belied the fact that it was November.
Chris wasn’t even wearing the heavy parka he’d worn onto the plane. It felt like summer here in palm tree land.
“Eduardo! Christopher!” Mama, a tiny, dark woman who looked much younger than her years came bounding out of the front door. She rushed, open armed to Ted.
<
br /> Ted picked her up and swirled her about.
“Chris. Mucho gusto.” Papa, a short dark man with a Pancho Villa mustache, put out a strong hand and grabbed Chris’, then pulled him into a big hug. Broad shouldered, barrel chested, Papa looked like an older, heavier version of Ted.
“Papa, good to see you.” Chris was swept into the house in a flurry of hugs, handshakes and pats on the back.
The house looked just like Chris remembered it. A worn sofa covered in a brightly colored serape against the wall, candles flickered at a shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe in the corner. Most of the furniture came from Mexico long ago. Scratches and rings covered the coffee table littered with copies of La Opinion.
Before he had time to put his bag down, Chris had a Dos XX in his other hand. Hope had her hands around his arm and led him to a back bedroom.
“You and Ted can sleep with the boys.” Two single beds crowded against the walls, and two mattresses lay on the floor between them. “C’mon. You’ve got to come out to the backyard. Papa has a big fiesta going on.”
Chris felt himself led through the small house and out the kitchen door. The backyard, surrounded by a high stucco fence trimmed with red bricks, teemed with people. Abuelita, Ted’s grandmother, sat on the brick-raised bed circling an avocado tree.
“Teddy, ven aquí!” She jumped to her feet and shouted at the sight of Ted.
Under the orange tree, four men, dressed in bright mariachi costumes, belted out a tune. Wow, it must have cost Papa a month’s wages to hire a band. Everywhere bougainvillea showered purples and pinks into the yard.
On a long table against the house, food of every description, nestled into brightly decorated terra cotta pots and trays, wafted hypnotic odors.
“Come, Christopher,” Mama said. “You must be hungry. Eat. Esperanza, triagas nuestro invitado un plato.”
Before Chris had time to respond, Hope was filling a plate from the table.
“What are those?” Chris asked as Hope scooped little red pieces of meat onto his plate.
“Carnitas en adobado,” she smiled. “Papa’s specialty.” She stopped and gave Chris an appraising look. “You’re way too skinny. You’re going to need lots of frijoles and tortillas.”
She heaped his plate with beans and rice, then rolled a tamal from its hoja and smothered it with Abuelita’s special dark red chile sauce, and finally shoved a chile relleno onto the over-crowded plate.
Chris was swept up in a swirl of kids and deposited at a wooden picnic table. Ted plopped down opposite him and Hope sat at his right. Two teenage boys fought for the position on his left.
“Carlito, Guillermo,” Hope barked. “Back off. You’re going to spill Chris’ food.” She smiled at Chris. “We don’t have many Anglo friends. It’s not often we have a blondie in our back yard.”
“Atención. Por favor. Todos, su atención.” Mama beat on the bottom of a sauce pan with a metal serving spoon. “Papa has some important news to announce. Teddy, come up here.”
Ted stuffed a tortilla full of carnitas and frijoles in his mouth, grabbed his beer bottle and jumped up. Chris smiled, his buddy sure wasn’t going to miss a bite if he could help it.
“Amigos, mi familia,” Papa looked like he was giving a campaign speech. “I want to thank you all for being here today.” He wrapped a muscled arm around Ted’s shoulder and pulled him tight. “I want to thank God and la virgin santísima for the good fortune they have brought to us.”
Chris noted a catch in Papa’s voice, tears forming in his eyes.
“Our Teddy has come home for a special event. As you all know, we had the good fortune to win the SuperLotto. Teddy and his friend Gina, in Seattle, have helped us work out what to do with all that money. Tomorrow, Teddy is going down to collect the money. On Monday, I am going to buy El Chaparral.”
El Chaparral was the restaurant where Papa had labored for over two decades.
The crowded burst into applause. “Ay, ay, ay!” Several of the men shouted loud gritos. The mariachi band began playing, all round Chris, people yelled and jumped and hugged. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, Chris thought to himself.
“And now, I hope I can ask Teddy for un favor mas.” Papa pulled Ted even closer to him. Ted had a wary look in his eyes. “Teddy, now that we’re going to own El Chaparral, I need you to come home. You come back and work with us in the restaurant, no?”
“Papa, you know I have a new job, a life in Seattle.” Ted looked like he was a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Si, but this is familia. Your Mama she wants you back home. Blood is thicker than money, no? You come home.”
Ted looked horror stuck. “Can we talk about this later?”
Chris didn’t hear what happened next. His Blackberry vibrated on his hip.
“Damn.” A text from Kathy. The Dragon Lady wanted him back in Seattle. Yesterday.
****
Neither Ted nor Chris were much in the mood for talking on the flight back to Seattle. Ted was lost deep in a dark mood. Chris’ Blackberry vibrated every few minutes until he turned it off on the plane. The Dragon Lady wouldn’t leave him alone. As soon as they were back on the ground, it started up again. By the time he got home, she had a week’s worth of work lined up for him. And she wanted it all on her desk by Monday night. What was she doing working on a Sunday anyway?
****
The world headquarters of Millennium Systems occupied the entire Millennium Tower at Fourth and Columbia in Seattle. The Tower, build on a pedestal that gradually widened to cover the entire block, had a grass and tree covered park at its base. The unusual building was often featured in architectural magazines.
After collecting temporary ID badges at building security in the glass and marble lobby, Ted and Catrina rode the elevator towards the forty-fifth floor, the executive office suite.
Catrina wore a tailored navy business suit with a short skirt and heels. The heels gave her a four-inch height advantage over Ted. Diamond studs and a gold chain finished off her outfit. She never wears jewelry at work. Her jacket hid her bust line, but her legs looked great. How come she‘s dressing up to see Alison Clarke? Ted couldn’t remember seeing her in heels before.
“These dudes certainly don’t scrimp when it comes to their building, do they?” Ted asked. In the lobby, a fountain danced in front of some sort of two-story tall modern art mural that he couldn’t understand. As they entered the elevator, Ted noticed the cherry wood and brass trimmed car.
“Terry Metcalf brought his company west from Baltimore in the eighties.” Catrina said. “He took a moderately successful family business and built it into a world powerhouse. There aren’t many people in the world who could have done what he did.”
“So how come they kicked him out?” Ted watched the floors light up on the control panel as the elevator climbed.
“He got in over his head during the dot com boom.”
Ted read about that in school. He was a teenager in LA, more interested in scoring, both on and off the field, than he was about keeping up with the business news.
“Metcalf invested big time in a bunch of dot coms.” Catrina went on. “It was like a gold rush mentality. Investors weren’t even interested in whether or not a company could make money, they were buying market share. When the whole thing blew up in 2000, MS almost went under.”
“That’s when Alison took over MS?” The elevator doors opened and Ted and Catrina stepped out into a posh lobby. Lush carpet was covered with expensive, ivory-colored furniture. Oil paintings with little spot lights over them hung on the walls. Large plants filled the corners.
A semi-circular marble desk covered one wall with two hotties, a blonde and a brunette, wearing headsets, sitting behind flat-screen computer monitors. They wore conservative business attire, but spared no effort on their hair or makeup.
“Catrina Flaherty and Ted Higuera here to see Alison Clarke,” Cat said.
“Ms. Flaherty, she’s expecting you. If y�
��all will just come this way please.”
Ted followed, almost in a trance, as the brunette’s hips swayed as she led the way. She opened an oak-framed glass door. “Ms. Flaherty and Mr. Higuera, Ms. Clarke.”
“Cat, Ted, good to see you.” Alison emerged from behind her desk, hand outstretched. As always, she wore an expensive business suit over her petite frame. Today it was accented by a silk scarf held in place with a diamond brooch.
“Wow! What a view.” Ted gaped out the windows.
One glass wall looked out over Elliot Bay and Puget Sound. The adjoining wall looked back towards the South. Mount Rainier towered over the Cascade Range like a giant snow cone.
“We got lucky with nice weather today,” Alison said.
Alison’s office was bigger than Ted’s apartment. The ceiling was two stories tall. A mezzanine ringed the office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, coffee tables and overstuffed chairs. It reminded Ted of the new wing of the Suzzallo Library at the UW.
Ted looked at the loveseats on either side of a glass-topped coffee table.
“Don’t bother sitting.” Alison waved towards the door. “We’re going downstairs to R&D.”
Ted noticed Catrina standing transfixed in front of an oil painting of a ballerina tying her shoes.
“It this . . . ?’ Catrina stopped in mid-sentence.
“Yes. All three of them are Degas.”
Ted noticed two other ballerina pictures on the adjoining wall.
“Wow,” Catrina whispered.
Alison led them to an elevator where she swiped her ID badge against a reader. “One of the perks of office. I get a private elevator. You could spend the rest of your life waiting for elevators in a building this tall.”
Ted’s ears popped as the elevator dropped forty-eight floors in a matter of a minute or less. When the door opened, they were in a different world.
Gone were the trappings of power and office. They stepped into a sealed off lobby. It could have been a bank vault. The only feature was a heavy steel door with a mirror in the top half. Alison stepped to a high-tech bio-metric reader and placed the palm of her right hand against the device. A red light flashed under her hand, like the barcode scanner in a super market, emitting a slight hum. The light turned from red to green. Alison entered a number on a keypad and a buzzer sounded above the door.
Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2) Page 14
