by Kay Bigelow
“Let’s not quibble over details,” Quinn said with a smile. “Let me show you how to fire this beauty.”
The “beauty” was light and fit into her hand as if it had been made for her. It occurred to her to wonder if Quinn had had it made for her. There was no trigger per se. Instead, where the handle met the business end of the weapon there was what felt like a small toggle switch.
“You can’t test fire the gun without putting a soccer ball–sized hole in the wall,” Cots told her. “You’re going to have to trust me that it’s deadly.”
“Okay,” Leah agreed, not wanting to test Cots’s assessment of the damage it could do.
“Give me your police-issued weapon. You can’t wear it into this meet.”
Leah took off her weapon and immediately felt vulnerable and naked. This is truly a stupid idea. But Quinn and Cots were right. If they found out she was wearing a weapon, they would assume she was acting in bad faith and probably kill her and Quinn before she’d have a chance to pull her lemon reamer on them.
And there’s no way I’m going to pull a citrus reamer from my pocket in front of a mob boss. If she couldn’t get it to fire or it didn’t do what Cots and Quinn thought it would, she’d become the laughingstock of the city in a matter of hours, assuming she lived to tell the tale. Her days as a cop would end shortly thereafter not only because she had an illegal weapon, but because once the media got hold of what she’d done, every criminal in town would be laughing themselves silly every time she tried to arrest one of them. Not that I’d live long enough for that to happen. And what if Grandini’s goons patted her down? They’d find a lemon reamer in her pocket. This was not a good idea.
“I’ll meet you at the end of the corridor,” Quinn said, stepping out of the condo.
She’s probably calling Grandini to tell her we’re on our way. Or maybe she’s just nervous.
“What’s the safe word?” Cots asked, testing her.
“Triangle.”
“Okay, we’re good to go,” Cots said. “The van’s ready, too.”
“How do you guys have a surveillance van already?” Leah asked Quinn as they headed up the stairs to the floor above their condo.
“Cots has a few carefully chosen clients,” Quinn said.
While that didn’t explain the van, or anything, really, it would have to do for time being. They exited the stairwell and went down a long, well-lit corridor. At the end of the corridor, they went through a door on their right that led to a flyaway, an enclosed bridge, that crossed over the street below and into another building.
Inside the building, Cots led them to a fire door, used a pass key to open it, and they went down a flight of stairs, out into another hallway, through a door, across another flyaway, and exited into a third building two long blocks away from the condo. They went down the stairs to an underground parking structure for the building’s residents. A black van was parked at the back of the structure. Cots used his remote entry code to open the van for them. Peony got out of the driver’s seat and followed Leah into the back of the van while Cots went to the driver’s side door and Quinn to the passenger side. They didn’t have to wait long for the van to be warmed up and ready to go. Leah could only imagine what the residents’ heating bills were like since they chose to heat their garage. Maybe Cots lived in this building. She’d have to ask him some day. She realized she’d come to both like and respect him over the last few days and hoped she’d have the chance to talk to him again when this was over. She replayed his warning about Grandini and forced herself to focus.
Cots took them out of the garage and onto the street. It was the first time Leah and Peony had been out of doors in what seemed like weeks but in reality was only a few days.
Cots drove them on one-way streets whenever possible. It was safer than trying to negotiate two-way streets that had become clogged with snow by the onslaught of the long series of winter storms that had hit the city. If you met a car coming toward you, it became a waiting game to see who would back up first. They didn’t have that kind of time. On one street, a car turned onto the street when they were thirty feet from the intersection. The other car refused to back up. Cots kept advancing on the car, but the driver was stubborn. However, Cots had the larger vehicle and continued to advance. The other driver simply sat where he was, refusing to budge. Cots stopped within two inches of the other car’s bumper. The other driver still refused to move.
“Leah, give me your weapon, please,” Quinn said.
“Why?”
“I’m going to shoot the son of a Drularian dog.”
Leah chose to keep her lemon reamer. Quinn pounded the dashboard in frustration.
“Push him out of the way,” Quinn said.
Cots eased off the brake and they felt the big van’s bumper tap the car in front of the them. Still, the man didn’t put his car into reverse. Cots eased off the brake again. This time, the van managed to move the car an inch or so backward. When the man stepped out of his car to inspect the damage, Cots pushed the smaller car back into a snowbank. The man drew a weapon and advanced on the van. He was halted in his tracks when he recognized the police badge that Leah was holding against the glass next to Cots.
The man retreated to his car and waited until the van passed before he gunned his car and fishtailed down the street and into another snowbank.
“Did we get the stupid asshole’s license plate?” Quinn asked.
“Sure did,” Cots said.
“Unfortunately, we can’t call it in,” Leah said.
“Why not?” Quinn demanded.
“First, we don’t have the authority to do that. Second, there isn’t a law against being a stupid asshole,” Leah said with a smile.
Cots pulled the van over to the sidewalk when they were four blocks from the museum. Quinn and Leah got out. Peony moved into the passenger seat without having to get out of the warm van. Leah and Quinn would walk the rest of the way. They gave Cots a ten-minute head start by stepping into a coffee shop and getting the largest coffees they could buy. The sidewalks were cleared of both snow and people. They seemed to be the only people on foot. Leah readily understood why only fools were out of doors. Adding misery to the cold was the wind whistling down the corridors formed by the tall buildings on either side of the street creating a wind tunnel. The wind had to have dropped the wind chill factor to minus fifty degrees, or at least that’s what it felt like. As they hurried down the four blocks toward the museum, Leah thought about the state of her marriage. She wasn’t one to second-guess herself, but now she wondered if it would have been smarter to have brought Cots with her instead of Quinn. Or if the meeting wasn’t one of her dumbest ideas ever.
When they arrived in front of the museum, Leah glanced at the museum parking lot. It was empty. She wondered where Grandini and her people had parked. There weren’t that many cars on the street, and Leah spotted their van a half block up the street. Cots had parked at a meter. If they had to flee for their lives, his choice of parking spots was perfect—easy access for Quinn and Leah and a quick getaway.
They went up the stairs, finished their coffees, and threw the containers into the recycler beside the museum doors. Best to have both hands free. As they entered the warmth of the museum, a fast look around told them that they were some of the few to brave the elements to visit the museum. Leah wondered why the museum even stayed open on a day like today. She saw two men standing ten feet away from one another, but it was clear they were together because they both looked out of place and they kept throwing each other glances. They were still bundled up as if they were outside. Leah was glad they weren’t the brightest mob boys since they’d have difficulty accessing their weapons, regardless of where they were hidden. Their thick gloves would make handling a gun impossible. Their heavy boots would slow them down, too. While she didn’t completely rule them out as possible threats, she demoted them down the ladder by several rungs. She wondered how many other men Grandini had brought with her after agreei
ng that she and Leah would only bring one person each. Apparently, the rules didn’t apply to mob bosses.
A man stepped out of the shadows and approached them. He had removed his outer clothing and was dressed in an expensive navy blue suit, pale pink shirt, and a navy tie. He wore loafers, and his hair was slicked straight back with so much styling gunk it looked greasy. It was his eyes that troubled Leah, though. He had the dead eyes of one of those giant sharks that the museum had hanging from the ceiling near something called a whale. The placard near the shark explained that the fish was a man-eater and would attack anything that moved. Everything about this man exuded the same kind of danger.
“Devarian?” the man asked as he ran his eyes over Quinn.
“Yes.” Quinn looked as calm as though she’d just agreed it was cold outside.
“Ms. Grandini is expecting you.”
He spoke as if Grandini owned the museum. Maybe she did. The man had barely looked at Leah and didn’t speak to her.
“This way, please,” the man told Quinn. He led them to a door near the visitors’ desk. “You can go in,” he told Quinn.
When Leah started to follow Quinn into the office, the man stepped in front of her.
“Not you. Just her,” he said, nodding toward Quinn.
Before there could be a confrontation between the man and Leah, Quinn said, “She’s going in or I’m not. Explain that to your boss.”
“My orders are explicit.”
Quinn turned around and headed for the front door. Leah fell in beside her. In a way, Leah was glad the meeting was canceled by the stubbornness of one of Grandini’s goons.
“Quinn,” a voice behind them called.
“Stephanie,” Quinn murmured to Leah.
Quinn stopped and turned around, but not before Leah caught the smile of pleasure that flitted across Quinn’s face, though it was quickly hidden. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed the bile in her throat. She knew that look well, and what it meant.
The woman was beautiful. She had high cheekbones and dimples. Her blond hair was too blond not to be the work of her stylist. Her makeup was expertly applied. She oozed confidence, power, and sex appeal. Leah couldn’t keep her mind from going back to Cots’s words that Grandini thought Leah had “stolen” Quinn from her. Is it any wonder Quinn is attracted to her? Leah felt decidedly at a disadvantage.
Grandini started across the marble floor toward them. Quinn took a conciliatory step toward her, giving Leah a moment to study the lady mobster.
Grandini wore a navy suit, but hers was obviously tailored for her. She had on a white silk shirt with a stand-up collar. She wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail tied at the neck. Her blue eyes first inspected Quinn and then turned to Leah. Leah watched as Grandini looked her up and down like a shark assessing her next meal.
“Lieutenant Samuels, I’m Stephanie Grandini. Thank you for agreeing to meet here. Did you have much trouble getting through the streets?” she asked as if they were meeting to discuss a legitimate business deal. Damnation, that voice is sexy as hell.
“I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me,” Leah said. Chitchat, even with mobsters, still wasn’t her strong suit.
“Why don’t we adjourn to the office? I’ve got a pot of coffee there.”
Grandini didn’t wait to see if they would agree to do that. She turned and walked toward the office. Leah watched the ponytail sway gently back and forth in rhythm with her tight ass as she walked. Leah didn’t dare look at Quinn for fear of what she would see on her face. Drude, I hope I get to arrest this woman.
“Coffee?” Grandini asked when they were in the office.
Both Leah and Quinn declined. Leah wondered if Grandini thought it was because they thought the coffee was poisoned. Now you’re being silly. But anything is possible these days.
Grandini poured herself a cup. She sat sipping it as she watched them.
“You called this meeting,” she finally said to Leah. “It’s a shame about Bishop Cohane. Is that why you’re here?”
“This was slipped under my door this morning,” she said, ignoring Grandini’s question and sliding a copy of the note across the table.
Leah studied Grandini as she began reading the note. Almost immediately, her left eyebrow slowly rose. When Grandini looked up from the note, she cut her eyes to Quinn then said to Leah, “Do you think I sent this note to you?”
“Ms. Grandini, I don’t know anything about you except what’s in this note. So I don’t have a clue whether you had this note delivered to my door, or if someone is genuinely pointing the finger at you. However, it would be logical if you wanted me to know you’re sleeping with my wife. A kind of simple opportunity, really. Immature game-playing, but an opportunity nonetheless.” Leah hoped Grandini would be so outraged, she would say something incriminating.
“Lieutenant, if I’d wanted you to know I’m fucking your wife, I would have told you myself. I wouldn’t slip an anonymous note under your door.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her cold blue eyes.
“Much more important to me than you fucking Quinn is the note implicating you in the murder of Bishop Cohane. What can you tell me about that?” Leah asked, aware that Grandini knew the bishop had died in the park murders and that her source for that information could only be one person, and she was sitting in the chair next to hers.
“You don’t really think I would admit or deny complicity in the murder of the bishop to the detective investigating the murder, do you?”
“Well, denying it would make sense, if you didn’t have anything to do with it,” Leah said wryly. “Who would want to implicate you in the murder of the bishop?”
“Lieutenant, is my name anywhere on your fancy murder board at the condo? No? Since it’s not, why are you here?”
“I was curious to see if you knew who hated you enough to implicate you in a high-profile murder.” She’d known before leaving the condo she probably wouldn’t have much time with Grandini, and she knew Grandini was too smart to implicate herself. All the other questions she had about her relationship with Quinn wouldn’t be answered in her lifetime.
“I have no idea who would do that. I’ll let you know when I find out.” Grandini stood up, signaling the meeting was over. She held out her hand to Leah and said, “It was nice meeting you, Lieutenant.”
Leah shook the mobster’s hand knowing there was something in Grandini’s voice that made Leah feel like she’d been bested by her. She’d have to go over every word spoken to figure out what Grandini thought she’d accomplished.
Grandini next held her hand out to Quinn. “It is nice to see you again, Quinn.”
Leah noted Grandini’s use of the present tense and the change of tone from arrogant and professional to something softer and sexier. Again, her stomach clenched and she felt a headache coming on.
Once Quinn and Leah were outside the museum, Leah said, “Cots, we’ll meet you where you dropped us off. I don’t want them knowing about the van.”
“Assuming, of course, that they don’t already know about it,” Cots murmured into Leah’s earpiece.
They didn’t wait to see Cots drive slowly away from the museum in the opposite direction they were walking. They turned into the wind and headed for the rendezvous point. The wind whipped their words away as soon as they were spoken, making conversation impossible. Which was fine with Leah. She didn’t know who she was angrier with—Quinn or Grandini—or both equally. The only thing she’d gotten out of that meeting was that Cots had been right about the two women fucking, and Quinn was almost assuredly providing Grandini information about her murder investigation.
Once inside the warmth of the van with Peony in the driver’s seat, Leah unwrapped the scarf from her nose and mouth, and asked Cots, “Were you able to get the conversation?”
“No. They had jamming devices set up in the room you were in. I couldn’t overcome them. Did she admit to anything juicy?”
“The only thing she admitted was that she and
Quinn are fucking.” The second that was out of her mouth, she regretted having said it. I need to get a grip on my emotions. They cannot be allowed to rule my thinking about this case. There was dead silence in the van. Quinn didn’t say a word, but Leah could sense the tension strumming through her. Quinn’s lover had outed her without batting an eyelash. She glanced at Quinn. Her body language confirmed the tension, and it also told her Quinn was furious, but whether at her or Grandini, she had no way of knowing.
Leah remained silent for the rest of the trip home, mulling over the meeting, what was said, and what wasn’t said. She was trying very hard not to punch Quinn in the nose for her lying, cheating ways.
“Cots, pull over. Now,” Leah said with some urgency. When the van came to a stop she stepped out and barely got to the nearest snowbank before she threw up. She took a handful of snow and wiped her mouth.
No one said anything to her when she got back in the van. Quinn reached over to take her hand, but Leah jerked it way. She didn’t want, or need, Quinn’s sympathy or pity.
Back in their condo, they shed their outerwear and hung it in the closet. Leah gave the citrus reamer laser gun to Cots while Peony put her non-police-issued weapon in the safe beside the closet. Leah didn’t ask Cots for his personal weapon because she assumed he wouldn’t give it up.
“I put the coffeemaker on a timer and there should be a full pot if anyone’s interested,” Cots told them.
“Coffee’s not my favorite drink, but I’ll drink anything that’s hot, including car sludge,” Peony told them as she bounced up and down trying to get warm.
