Gretel closed the door behind him. There was no apology for waking her, no asking how she was, and no hello. All she could do was pretend concern over what he said. “That’s dreadful. What happened?”
He turned around and looked her up and down.
“It’s ten in the morning. Were you asleep?”
“Late night. Watching too much TV. Wait, wasn’t there crime scene tape around the house?”
“Yes. They ignored that. It was a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Welch looking for Mrs Welch. Apparently, he was drunk and upset about what had happened to Mr. Welch. Fortunately we had the house on regular patrol by the local police. One of the patrol cars saw the lights in the house on, and called it in. They found his friend at the bottom of the driveway.”
That must’ve been the intruder she'd seen. Maybe. “That was lucky. Did they get his name?”
“Yes.”
“Test him for drunkenness?”
“He confessed he was drunk. There was no need.”
“And, Josephine said she knew him?”
“Correct.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’ve got it written down somewhere.”
The guy who grabbed her foot in the Welch garden had not been drunk at all. If Josephine knew him, maybe he was working for her. Perhaps an investigator like she had first thought. Or this was a different man altogether?
“We’ve got Mrs. Welch coming in today.”
“So soon after her husband’s been killed?”
“In a murder case time is of the essence. It mightn’t be the best timing for the family but it’s our best chance of finding the killer. Then the family can have closure.”
“Closure is good.” She nodded, and then looked down at herself. “I guess I should get changed.”
“Yes, and hurry.”
“While I’m doing that do you want to make yourself some coffee?”
“Sure. You want one?”
“Yes, please,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to her room. Intending to put a proper effort into helping Jack with his case, she decided on her most conservative outfit. A pencil-thin cream skirt with a black blouse, and black pumps. No jewelry.
She pulled a brush through her hair and did her makeup as fast as she could. It didn’t seem like Jack was a patient man and she didn’t want to keep him waiting.
When she walked out, he saw her and raised his eyebrows.
His face said, ‘Wow,’ even though he didn’t utter a word. Then he looked down at something in his hand.
“What have you got there?” she asked.
He passed her a coffee and then opened his other hand to reveal a wrapped candy, a promotional giveaway item from the rental car company.
Her heart nearly stopped. Why had she taken it? And how stupid to leave it lying about like that?
She thought fast. Fixing a smile on her face, she snatched it from him and then threw it in the kitchen waste bin. “I’m trying to stay off sugar. It’s a hard habit to break.” She giggled. “Someone was giving those away in the street yesterday. Not sure why I took one.”
He took a sip of coffee while staring at her. “Yes, sugar’s a hard habit to break.”
“Tell me about it.” She hoped he believed her and wouldn’t remember which rental car company it was from. Good luck with that, she told herself. It's likely seared into his memory.
Later that morning at the FBI interview area, Mrs. Welch walked in with a man she introduced as her brother-in-law, Reginald Welch, who was also a lawyer. When Gretel heard his raspy-toned voice, she knew without a doubt he was the man who’d accompanied Josephine to her house last night. Being a lawyer, he’d positively know better than to cross crime scene tape. That told her he wasn’t the most upstanding lawyer in town.
While Jack interviewed Josephine, Gretel listened from the other room. It was then Gretel realized Josephine had lived most of her life surrounded by lawyers, with both her first and second husbands being lawyers. And now her brother-in-law.
After a half-hour-long interview, with Reginald stopping his sister-in-law from answering practically every other question, Jack excused himself and walked into the adjoining room where Gretel had been listening.
He leaned against the door and locked eyes with her. Slowly he walked forward and sat on a desk close to her. “What do you think?”
“She’s guilty. She killed him, took the jewels, and aims to pocket the insurance money too.”
His lips twisted into a smirk. “What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling.”
“I tend to agree with you, but we’ll need evidence.”
“Why does she need a lawyer? I mean, isn’t she trying to help you?”
“She’s just being cautious. Her lawyer knows we look at the family first when there’s a murder.”
Gretel nodded. “They must know you doubt the whole story about the intruders killing Glen Welch.”
“Maybe they do.” He looked down at his shoes and then looked back at her. “If she’s guilty, that means there was no robbery. Where would she have hidden the jewels?”
“Could be anywhere. She had someone else do the job – the pretend robbery and the killing. The jewelry could be anywhere. Maybe even still in the house somewhere.” Her mind was drawn back to the other man, the one hiding in the house.
“I’ll get a warrant and have the house searched from top to bottom.”
“I know you’re good at your job and everything, but I don’t think you’ll ever find who killed him. The person who did the actual killing.”
“Why?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Could be anyone, and by now they could be anywhere. Bermuda, Honduras, Dubai, Paris.”
“We will get them. We’ll see what the forensics have to say. Be more positive, Gretel. We usually get our man.”
Gretel wished she could say the same. The only man she’d gotten was a useless, lying, double-crossing rat. Looking back through the glass at Josephine, her gaze drifted to Reginald, the brother-in-law lawyer. Why had he been with Josephine at the house? “Okay, sure. I’ll try to be more positive, Jack.”
“That’s the way.” He took one of the three bottles of water on the table and passed her one. When she shook her head, he unscrewed the cap and took a mouthful. “Time to go back in and ask some more questions.”
“Good luck.”
Chapter 8
Later in the day, Jack and Gretel sat down in Jack’s sparsely furnished office. As she waited for him to check his emails, she noticed how neatly the files on his long desk were arranged into two groups. Two filing cabinets stood by the narrow window while the only thing adorning the gray walls was a large corkboard with notes pinned to it. The lack of personal mementos and family photographs reinforced her opinion of him being all work and no play.
Then he said, “Done,” and looked at her. “We’re going to have to check in with all the local fences.”
It surprised her that they’d have to do the groundwork like that. He was a special agent after all. “Wouldn’t the underdog cops do that stuff?”
His head tilted to one side as he clasped his hands together and rested them on his desk. “What do you mean by 'underdog cops?'”
“Well, you’re a 'special agent.' So don’t you have other people, 'not-so-special agents,' to do things like that? Or just send out a memo?”
“I’m not talking about going to see any leads that I know. I’m talking about the fences that you might know.”
The words were delivered like a knife to the heart. Immediately Gretel was sick to the stomach. Did he think she was going to be an informant? She would never reveal the people she’d worked with. “Look, that was never the deal. It’s not something I can do.”
“You help me, and I help you. One hand washes the other—”
She interrupted quickly, knowing his next words would be that he could always send her back to the prison she’d escaped from. “Yes, but I’m not helping you
so much that I’ll get myself killed.”
“Just as well I have someone who’s called in. He’s given us information before. Not me personally but people I work with. You might know him. Herman Smythe.”
She was relieved. He’d been seeing how far he could push her. “I’ve never heard of him,” she lied. Herman Smythe was a low-level fence. She knew of him, but she’d never worked with him. He’d never be able to move the kind of goods that she dealt in.
“Well, we’re on the way to see him.” He bounded to his feet.
Looking up at him, she asked. “Right now? Aren’t you going to finish talking to Mrs.—”
Jack’s eyes bore into hers. “It’s under control. Unless you have something better to do?”
She looked at her nails. “I need time off to attend to a few personal things. I have to get my nails done.” More important than needing her nails done or visiting the hairdresser was finding her rotten ex-boyfriend. Where was she going to find time for that? Even though she had Kent on the job, it annoyed her that she couldn’t do anything to help. Jack was taking up all her time.
He didn’t look pleased with her. “There'll be plenty of time for your nails once we have Welch’s killer behind bars.”
Out of frustration she bit the inside of her mouth.
“Once we locate your boyfriend and the diamonds you say he has, and then find out who killed Glen Welch and stole the jewelry, you can have all the pedicures you want. But right now we’ve got things to do.”
She smiled at him not knowing the difference between a manicure and a pedicure. “I won’t argue with that. I could use a pedicure, too.”
He narrowed his eyes, and then he looked over at the door.
Gretel turned around to see him looking at a very attractive woman who was smirking at him. Straight blonde hair stopped bluntly at her shoulders and she wore a figure-hugging skirt with matching jacket. Her blouse was undone way too far.
“Just stopped by to see if you wanted help on the Welch case.”
“No, it’s under control, thanks.”
She folded her arms and walked further into his office, looking at Gretel. “Who do we have here?”
Gretel stood up and reached out her hand. “Gretel Koch.”
“Gretel’s working with us. Gretel, meet Monica.”
“Hello, Monica,” Gretel said, letting her arm drop down by her side when the woman ignored it. She’d only glanced at her before her gaze swept back to Jack.
“I heard about her coming here and I thought it was a joke.”
“It’s not a joke, Monica,” Jack said.
Monica shook her head, still staring at Jack. “I’ve just wrapped up my case, so if you need help, you better be quick.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She smiled at him and then shot a frosty look at Gretel before she walked out the door.
“Wow.” Gretel couldn’t believe how rude the woman had been. “Who was that?”
“Monica Blaze, one of the agents. I’m sorry about that. She is a good agent believe it or not. Let’s go.”
They walked out of his office to the elevator. The last office on the left side of the corridor was Monica’s, Gretel noticed. She’d have to keep an eye on that one.
Half an hour later, Gretel Koch and Jack Fletcher walked into Herman Smythe’s pawnshop. There was only one man behind the counter, a bald-headed guy with well-muscled, hairy arms and wearing an assortment of gold bracelets and heavy gold neck chains. The diamonds in the square ring on his pinkie sparkled. He was the typical man you’d need working in a pawn shop to deal with the many disgruntled customers coming in to collect their goods past the due date. “Is Herman Smythe in?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Jack Fletcher. I called this morning, he’s expecting us.”
“He didn’t mention it, but that doesn’t mean nuthin’.” He looked from Jack to Gretel and back to Jack. He picked up a phone’s receiver and pressed a button and said a few words to Herman, while Gretel had a casual look around observing the security. When he ended the call, he looked up. “Come this way.”
They followed him through to the back. “Second door on the left.”
Jack knocked. “Jack Fletcher and associate here.”
“Come in.”
They walked into his room. A small skinny man sat behind a large desk with various instruments and weighing scales strewn over it. “Nice to meet you.” He leaned across the desk offering his hand. Jack shook it and then Gretel offered her hand and he shook it looking into her eyes. “Have a seat.”
Once they were seated, Jack said, “Thank you for seeing us.”
“How can I help you?” Before Jack could answer he looked at Gretel and pointed at her. “I know you.”
“Oh.” Gretel didn’t know what to say. She’d never met him, only heard about him.
“You’re Gretel Koch.”
“Yes, she is,” Jack answered, “and she’s helping us with a few things. You told one of my associates you had information about the recent robbery at the Welch home. I’m guessing you heard Glen Welch was murdered and his home robbed?”
Gretel was grateful Jack had steered the attention away from her.
Smythe licked his lips and leaned back in his chair. “Yes. I heard. None of their jewelry has come here. I’d know if it had. We got an email alert yesterday listing the stolen items.”
“So, what do you know?”
Then he moved closer to them. So close that Gretel could smell the alcohol on him. “There was a similar robbery months back. The man wasn’t killed, but it sounds like it might’ve been the same crew.”
“How was it similar?” Gretel doubted what he said. He was clearly not one to be trusted.
“He was left for dead on the floor in front of his safe. They took everything.”
Jack pulled a notepad and pen from his inner jacket pocket and then clicked on the end of his pen as he flipped the notepad open. “Name? I’ll look it up on the system.”
“There won’t be anything to look up about it.”
Jack paused to stare at him. “Why do you say that?”
“He never reported it to the cops. The goods weren’t come by the right way if you know what I mean. And you didn’t hear that from me.”
Gretel sensed Jack was getting frustrated. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Few weeks.”
Jack frowned. “How badly was he hurt?”
“He was pretty badly banged up.”
“Name?” Jack repeated. “He could know something that would help. Even if it’s something small.”
“I’ll tell you.” He picked up his phone and scrolled through it. “Ramsey Goldbloom. I can give you a phone number, but on the way out, you’ll have to ask Pete for his address.” He picked up his phone’s receiver, pressed a number, and then asked Pete to have Goldbloom’s address ready. He replaced the receiver and looked over at them. “That’s all I can help you with. If I hear of anything else, I’ll let you know.”
That was his polite way of asking them to leave.
After they collected the address from Pete, they headed out of the shop.
“That was awful. He recognized me. I wasn’t happy about that.”
“You might have to get used to that. You caused quite a sensation.”
“Something best avoided. That’s always been my policy. Lay low, keep out of the spotlight. Thanks to you arresting me that’s all gone by the wayside.”
“I just need to make a few calls.” He nodded to a café. “Order me a coffee and something to eat and I’ll be over in a minute.” He passed her a fifty. “Get yourself something too, of course.”
“Is this breakfast?”
“I haven’t eaten today if that’s what you mean.”
She smiled at him and then headed to the café. Hanging out with Jack was far better than being in jail, and it also kept her mind off Ryan who was probably long gone by now. Although, it wasn’t exactly helpi
ng to keep her on the straight and narrow.
She made a food and drink order and then sat at a table and waited for him.
Sitting by the window and looking out, she watched him pace up and down talking on the phone. He certainly was handsome. Was he married? He didn’t wear a ring, but some men didn’t. As she’d observed that morning, there were no signs of a wife in his office. Nothing would ever happen between them. Not when he saw her as a criminal. Still, she could dream.
He ended his call and walked into the café. When he'd sat down across from her, he said, “I found out he came in there with a concussion, and he had some pretty serious cuts and abrasions.”
“Excuse me? Who are we talking about?”
He frowned at her. “Ramsey Goldbloom.”
“Ah. You confused me when you said, 'came in there.' Did you mean he went to a hospital?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Gretel. I tend to think people know what’s going on in my head. We were just talking about him. Anyway, he’d been knocked out cold. Nothing was reported to the police. He told the hospital he’d fallen down some stairs and his head hit the banister on the way down.”
“Ah, good work getting the info from the hospital.”
He gave half a smile. The waitress brought their coffees over and said their food wouldn’t be long.
“What are we eating?” he asked Gretel.
“Toasted sandwiches. I hope that’s all right. I didn’t know what to get you.” She pushed the change over to him.
He took it, shoving it all in a pocket. “Thanks. Sandwiches are fine. Anything’s fine. I'm not a fussy eater.”
“I’m guessing we’re heading to see Ramsey Goldbloom after this?”
“Ah, you remembered his name. I was getting worried about you for a moment.”
“I do have a good memory for names.”
“We’re meeting him in an hour. He thinks we want to talk to him about his hospital visit. He owns a car wash not far from here.”
The first thing that sparked in her mind when she heard the words ‘car wash’ was money laundering.
Shiny Things Page 4
