Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

  “Of course,” I said. “Come in.”

  “Thanks.” He introduced me to the other agent and took a seat on my couch. “We just wanted you to know that we found your kidnappers, so you don’t need to worry about them anymore.” He was thinking that if I didn’t act surprised enough, it might indicate that I already knew they were dead. Then he’d know if I was involved, or had anything to do with their deaths.

  “Oh, that’s great news,” I said and waited for him to tell me more. When he didn’t, I asked, “So…are they in jail?”

  “No,” he admitted. “They’re both dead.”

  “Oh,” I grimaced. “What happened? Did they resist arrest or something?”

  “No. Someone killed them,” he answered and paused.

  This whole dancing around the issue was getting on my nerves. “You know, for coming here to tell me what’s going on, you’re doing a pretty lousy job.” Did I just say that out loud?

  The other agent spoke up. “You’re right. Sorry. It’s just that we were wondering if you knew anything about it.” Asking me that made him realize how silly it sounded. The only reason they even wondered was because I was gone about the same time the shootings happened. That didn’t mean I was involved. How could I be? Insinuating that I was that kind of person didn’t make any sense.

  “About who killed them?” I said, incredulously.

  He was ready to apologize when the other agent spoke up.

  “I know it sounds a bit far-fetched, but we still had to ask.” He was remembering how angry I was when I talked to him yesterday. Like he hadn’t been there to protect me from the bad guys. That set him off that something wasn’t right. Then, when they’d found the bodies and figured the time of death, it clicked in place, and he wondered if I knew who killed them. Of course, it was a long shot. His boss figured it was all part of the drug dealers taking care of ‘loose ends’ and didn’t really care who shot them, but he felt it his duty to ask.

  I was shaking my head. “I don’t have a clue.”

  The other agent was embarrassed and quickly stood. “Thanks for your time.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine.

  I stood, shaking his hand. “Sure. So does this mean we’re done? You won’t be watching my house anymore?” Did Dimples tell them about Mercer? I remembered that he was going to mention it to them. Should I say something?

  “No reason to. They won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  The other agent thought I was being sarcastic with my thanks. Especially when they hadn’t really done anything.

  “I’m glad you were here,” I looked at him. “Who knows, they might have come back otherwise. So thanks again.” I quickly opened the door. He was thinking that I was really good at picking up emotions. I would make a fantastic ‘reader’. They were always looking for people with that ability. That reminded him of Detective Harris, and it all fell into place.

  “Detective Harris said you were helping him with a case,” he said. “I remember now. What do you do for him?”

  Oh great. This guy was way too smart for his britches. And why had he forgotten about Mercer – the reason Dimples talked to him in the first place? I gave an embarrassed smile and shrugged. “I’m a paid consultant. I sometimes get premonitions about things. When he’s stumped with a case, he’ll give me a call and see if I can help. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

  “Hmm…well, we’ll have to keep that in mind.” He was thinking it probably wasn’t premonitions at all. I was just good at picking up non-verbal cues and reading facial expressions. I could probably tell pretty quick if someone was lying. “Do you have a business card?” he asked, thinking if I helped the police, maybe he could hire me as well.

  “Not yet,” I said, caught off guard.

  “Here’s mine.” He handed it to me. “If you are ever interested in a job with the FBI, give me a call.”

  “Oh…okay. Thanks.” I took his card and waved them out the door with a friendly smile. Whew. That wasn’t too bad, but it was sure a relief to have them gone.

  Hungry, I wandered into the kitchen. As I scrambled an egg, I wondered what it would be like to work for the FBI. I could probably help them out a lot. Maybe even save the world. Kidnappings, bombings, murderers, I could take them down. I chuckled. Now I was getting carried away. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about all that stuff. Helping Dimples was hard enough, and look at the mess I was in now. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get some business cards made.

  I needed to concentrate on my next move to give Uncle Joey back his money. But now that the Mexicans, along with Salazar and probably Mercer, were out of the picture, I wasn’t as anxious to talk to him. What if he guessed my powers were back? It made sense that he was the one who’d hired Mercer to kill the Mexicans. He wouldn’t want them to get the money, and that was a good way to take care of it.

  What bothered me was that Ramos didn’t seem to know what was going on. He was Uncle Joey’s right hand man. He knew everything. I tried to think of our conversation earlier. He’d said that he heard I got away. Who told him? Uncle Joey? Jackie? Mercer?

  I needed to talk to Ramos before I did anything else. Maybe I could call Jackie about talking to Uncle Joey next week, and find out where Ramos lived so I could take him some food. Of course, then she’d wonder why I wanted to wait until next week, and since the FBI weren’t watching me anymore I wouldn’t have an excuse.

  I decided to call Chris. He could help me figure this out. Besides, he wanted to be there when I talked to Uncle Joey. I placed the call and was surprised when he answered.

  “You actually answered your phone,” I said. “What’s the deal?”

  He huffed. “You make it sound like I never have time for you.” I didn’t know what to say, since that was pretty much right. “Okay, so maybe I’ve changed my priorities. After the last few days, I thought I’d better take all your calls. Just in case you needed me to save you or something.”

  I chuckled. “That’s nice to know. Can we meet for lunch? We need to talk.”

  “Yes, that should work. I’ve got a light schedule today, so how about noon?”

  “Sounds great, I’ll come to your office.” We disconnected, and I checked the time. If I hurried, I could get in a quick run before my shower. It hit me that for the first time in a while, I didn’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder. It felt amazing.

  ***

  I pulled into Chris’ parking garage five minutes late and hurried to the elevators. I was proud that I hardly even cringed in his parking garage anymore. Maybe it was because I was used to being shot at. There was something wrong with that thought, but I didn’t want it to mar my good mood, so I shoved it to the back of my mind.

  Chris was on the phone, so I gave him a warm smile and quick wave when I entered. He glanced at me appreciatively, noticing how nice I looked in my short denim skirt and new cowboy boots. I knew I was a distraction when he had to ask the person on the other end to repeat what he’d just said. I couldn’t help the grin that spread over my face.

  A few minutes later, Chris hung up and came around the desk to my side. “Babe,” he purred. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” He was thinking that after seeing me he wasn’t hungry for food anymore.

  I playfully swatted his arm and pulled him out the door. “You may not be hungry for food, but I certainly am.” He frowned, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Hey,” I said in defense. “You hardly have to be a mind reader to know what you were thinking.”

  “Where do you want to go,” he said, choosing to change the subject.

  “Some place where we can talk.”

  “I know just the place.” He tucked my hand through his arm and pulled me down the hallway. As we left his office, his secretary was thinking what a cute couple we made. I sent her a big grin and she sighed, wondering if she would ever find love like ours. It made me even more determ
ined to solve my dilemma and get Uncle Joey out of our lives.

  We walked to a nearby café and found a corner booth where we wouldn’t be disturbed. “So what’s going on?” Chris asked.

  I told him about my visit from the FBI and how they were hoping I’d know what happened to the Mexicans. “They gave me their card, in case I want to join up. Can you believe it?” I said playfully.

  Chris stilled. “Why did they do that?” He was hoping I didn’t give myself away again.

  “I didn’t give myself away. The guy thought I had good instincts. He called it ‘reading’ people, picking up on their facial expressions and being able to tell if they were lying.” At Chris’ frown, I continued. “Of course, he didn’t say all that to me, but that was the gist of it.”

  “Tell me you’re not considering it,” he said, his brows drawn together in worry.

  “Not right now. I only told you because…well…I guess I was flattered. I was thinking about having some business cards made up. You know, since I’m getting paid as a consultant for the police, it might look good to have a few on hand.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said, unenthusiastically. “What would you put on them?”

  “I was thinking something like…Shelby Nichols Consulting Agency…with my cell phone number on it. That way I wouldn’t need an office or anything. Since I’d be calling it a consulting agency, I wouldn’t be expected to do other things, like private eye stuff. I don’t think I’d like that so much. What do you think?”

  “Sure.” He nodded reluctantly and heaved a sigh. He was thinking that our lives had changed drastically since I could read minds, and worried what would happen next. He never imagined living like this…he glanced at me sharply. Damn, had I just heard all that?

  I ignored his thoughts and continued my story. “Anyway, I tried to call Uncle Joey, but the number I have was disconnected, so I didn’t get through. I thought about calling Jackie, but decided to try Ramos first.”

  “Did you get him?” Chris asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “He didn’t say much, but it sounded like he thought it was Salazar who got me yesterday, so he went after him.” I went on to explain that he’d been shot, but told me I didn’t have to worry about Salazar anymore. “I guess that’s why he didn’t call me back last night. He was pretty out of it, but he said he’d call me back after the pain pills wore off.”

  “Did he know about Mercer?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “He said he heard I got away from the Mexicans, but that doesn’t tell us much.”

  “So, who hired Mercer?” Chris asked.

  “Take your pick. But I don’t think it was Ramos. That leaves Uncle Joey. It must have been him. What should we do now?”

  “I guess our next step is to contact Manetto and give him back his money.” I nodded, but without much enthusiasm. Chris noticed my reticence. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid he’ll guess my powers are back,” I admitted.

  “I’ll be there with you,” he assured me. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him out of our lives.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then I’d better call Jackie and set something up.” Chris nodded his agreement. “Should I talk to Ramos first?” I asked.

  “I don’t think it matters. If he’s been shot, he’s out of the picture anyway. Manetto’s the only one who can make this right. He’s the one we need to talk to.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Why don’t you put in the call right now, while I’m here. Let’s get this over with.” He took my hands and squeezed them, sending the encouragement I needed to go through with it.

  I squeezed back, then released his hands to rummage through my purse for my phone. He noticed my stun flashlight and grinned. “Good call,” he said. “Is the gun in there too?”

  “No. It’s at home,” I answered. “But I think we should take it to Uncle Joey’s when we meet with him.”

  “I’ll take it,” he said. “You’ll have your flashlight. We’ll be all set.”

  He made it sound so easy. If only it were true. I found my phone and called Thrasher Development. Jackie answered right away. She didn’t seem surprised to hear from me, and was ready to set up a meeting. “Let’s see…can you come in to Thrasher tonight? Say…eight o’clock?”

  “Tonight? Why so late?”

  “Mr. Manetto has a lot to do today, so he can’t fit you in until then, but he’ll want to take care of this as soon as possible.”

  “Can’t we wait until tomorrow morning?” I asked, put off by her eagerness.

  “Mr. Manetto wouldn’t like that. It’s a lot of money. I’m sure you understand.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “But I’m bringing my husband with me.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “That should be fine,” she said. “Don’t be late.” She disconnected, leaving me listening to the dial tone. For some reason it sounded ominous.

  “That was strange.” I told Chris what she said.

  “I don’t like it,” he agreed. “But then, it sounds typical based on who Manetto is.”

  “Do we have to go?” I asked.

  “We’ve got to take care of this sooner or later,” he shrugged. “Why not sooner? Then it will be over, and we can put it behind us.”

  “All right,” I agreed.

  “Hey, it will work out,” he said. “If you hear anything you don’t like, we can leave. We have the money, so we’ll have the upper hand.”

  I nodded, but for some reason that didn’t reassure me like I hoped. “Do you think we should put all the money back into one account so we can transfer it more easily?”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that,” he said. “That’s probably a good idea. Do you want to go to the bank right now and take care of it? I think it will require both our signatures.”

  “Yes. Plus, we can see how much money we earned in interest, and it will make me feel better.” Chris glanced at me sharply. “Not that I want to keep the money. It’s just…you know…five million dollars. Don’t think I haven’t thought about what we could do with that much money.”

  “I know…I’ve thought about it too,” he agreed. His thoughts were centered on paying off the house and getting out of debt. He didn’t think we needed a nicer house or cars. Having that much money and not looking like it would suit him just fine. I frowned. His ideas were not at all like mine. It kind of made me ashamed.

  My phone rang, sparing me more guilt. “It’s the police,” I told Chris. “I’d better answer.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll pay the bill.”

  I answered, hoping it wasn’t bad news. “Hello?”

  “Hey Shelby, it’s Harris. I heard the news about the drug dealers who kidnapped you. Did the FBI tell you?” Dimples asked.

  “Yes, they came by this morning. I’m relieved I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Have you got any news on Mercer?” I thought I’d better ask since it would look funny if I didn’t.

  “No, but we’re not giving up. We think he might still be in the city, which doesn’t make sense on a practical level, unless he has some unfinished business…” he trailed off, probably because of how that might sound to me.

  “Like me?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s not you. I mean, I don’t think he would come after you. From what I’ve been able to pick up, he’s the kind who gets paid a lot of money, so I don’t think he’d kill someone for free.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.” Seriously? What was he thinking?

  “Oh. Yeah, that didn’t come out right.” He hesitated. “On a brighter note, I just got a call from Jessica Palmer. She has some information about the museum robbery and wants to meet with us right away. Are you free?”

  “Um…yeah. I can do that. I’m already downtown having lunch with my husband, so I could come over now.”

  “That would be great! And don’t worry, you’ll be compensated.”

 
What could I say to that? “Sure, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He thanked me and hung up.

  Chris heard what I said. “What’s going on?” he asked

  “The museum curator wants to talk to us. Do you think we could go to the bank after? I doubt it will take long, but it sounded urgent, and I’d hate to miss out on what she has to say.”

  “Okay, that should work.” We left the café and hurried to Chris’ office. He gave me a quick kiss. “Just give me a call when you’re done.”

  “I will,” I promised. “See you soon.”

  I took the elevator to the parking garage and started the car, realizing that in all the commotion, I had completely forgotten about the stolen art. As I drove, I wracked my brain to remember the guilty guy’s name. Then it came to me, Greg Bowman. Relieved, I let out a sigh; grateful I wouldn’t sound like an amateur since I forgot.

  Once again, I went into the police station. This time no one paid me any particular attention, and from their thoughts, I could tell they were getting used to seeing me come in. I took it as a good sign. Dimples waved me over, and I followed him out the back to a waiting car.

  “Thanks for doing this,” he said. “Ms. Palmer sounded a little panicked when she called, but wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone.”

  “What do you think is wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered.

  “Did you do any checking with Interpol about Greg Bowman?”

  “I haven’t had time yet.” He felt guilty about not checking, especially since he’d probably let me down, but he just had too much on his plate right now.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I sort of forgot about the art theft myself. Maybe if Greg is there I can figure out where the art is, and we can be done with the case.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, smiling, but inside, he didn’t think it would be that easy. Nothing was that easy. Then he mentally shook himself and decided to think positive. My premonitions had always been right, and he might as well take a chance. He smiled again, and this time, the smile was genuine.

  We pulled into the museum parking lot and hurried into the building. Entering the offices, we noticed the receptionist was gone. A chill of unease ran down my spine. Dimples narrowed his eyes, but he was thinking it was still close to lunchtime, so he wasn’t too concerned. I followed him down the hall to Jessica’s office. The door was closed, and he knocked, calling her name. She didn’t answer, so he turned the handle and pushed the door open. Empty.